The Survivor (Book 2)

Chapter 7

I woke in darkness. Or, at least I think I woke up. I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my eyes, and I felt around my small confinement. A bad idea on my part, I’ll admit, since I was terribly claustrophobic at times. That was one of those times. I could reach my arms out a little on both sides before they hit the cold walls, and that was the only thing keeping me alive. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing for sleep again.

I sat in the darkness for what felt like days, but was probably only hours. My stomach growled ferociously, and my head pounded violently. I longed for Zack. The touch of his soft skin, the sound of his voice, his gentle words telling me I’d be okay, all of it. I wanted him next to me.

Finally, I wrapped my arms around my knees and breathed deeply into my skin, smearing blood everywhere. How my nose was still bleeding, I’d never know. I think I cried when I was in the dark and lonely and frightened. And hungry. Holy shit was I hungry. I didn’t sob, didn’t let the nerves and emotions take over me. Tears fell, and that was the end. No more, no less.

I figured out what was happening shortly after my tears stopped. Saint had kidnapped me, and he brought me to the humans most likely. I was pretty sure this wasn’t what it was like to be soulless since Zack had no soul, and he could see. Maybe my eyes were cut out.

The humans were disorienting me. Putting me in dark for so long would leave me weakened when I was brought into light again. And I was weak from lack of nutrition. But I wouldn’t die, which is what they wanted. They wanted proof. Because they were scared of what they didn’t know.

I heard voices echoing in my head, and squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face in my knees. A heavy door opened with a long moan, and the light pierced through my eyelids. Two sets of hands settled on my arms, and they ripped me to my feet.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to damn my fellow Beings to an eternity of nothingness and another war, but with humans. I screamed and thrashed about, trying to get out although I knew it would be pointless. I had arm strength, but not enough to break free. I could kill them. But I wouldn’t. Not yet, anyway.

“Let me go!!” I sobbed, although the tears were mostly fake. “My daddy’s strong, and he’s gonna beat the shit out of all of you if you don’t!!”

I earned a punch to the face with that, and I cried more fake tears. “The cops will find me. I’m important! I’m gonna be prom queen!!”

I wondered if I was good at lying. Only time would tell, I guess. If I got out soon, the answer was yes. If I didn’t…I had to learn how to be real quick.

“Put her in the chair,” a male’s voice commanded.

“The chair?!” I screamed. “You can’t kill me, please! Please don’t kill me! I don’t wanna die,” my voice died out in sobs. “Why am I here?” I looked up at the man who commanded I be put in the chair. I squinted around the bright light, but I still couldn’t see him well enough.

“You know why,” was all he said, turning to leave.

“Wait!” He stopped. “Where’s the boy? The one from before? Saint?”

“Why?”

“He promised…m-me a f-favor,” I stammered. “Before he t-took me.”

The man sighed, “Put her in the chair; I’ll get Saint.”

I sniffled and sobbed and choked, being shoved down a long hallway. The people holding me took me into a darker room–thank God–and strapped me down to a metal chair. I sobbed even harder, begging them to let me go. They wouldn’t, obviously, and I didn’t really want to be let go. I wanted to know what they wanted to know.