The Prison Project [-Editing-]

08: Linley

Meh.

I'll go to fix this one later too. :P

Picture of Jade to the right -->

Edited January 9, 2013

08: Linley

I wake up abruptly and sit bolt upright when a loud bang clangs throughout the house. I blink and let my eyes adjust to the darkness before taking in my surroundings. Why am I in the living room? I think. But then I remember that I fell asleep during the movie. Trey must’ve gone up to bed already. I cautiously look around once more. Nothing seems to be out of order, so I shrug and lay back down.

            I shift my position on the couch, trying to get more comfortable. Once I am satisfied, I close my eyes. But…I’m not comfortable. Something seems wrong. I feel another presence; an extremely unnerving presence, one that seems to be full of malevolence. I don’t think I’m the only one in the room anymore. Maybe Trey? Or even Boone? But no, I wouldn’t be so perturbed if it was either of them.

            I shift a little again, telling myself to push those thoughts out of my mind. But I can’t. I can’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, is in the room with me. Someone or something that might hurt me. Go upstairs, I tell myself. Go upstairs and wake up Trey. Maybe you can sleep in his room or something. Just get out of this room. Once I muster up enough nerve to get up and run upstairs, I throw the quilt off of me and stand. And I scream.

            Three people, all dressed in black, are standing before me, their intentions obviously that of malice. One of them lunges forward and takes hold of me before I can react further. I hear a crash upstairs and I scream again.

            “Let her go!” I hear Trey shout somewhere close by. “Leave her alone!”

            The person already holding me picks me up and begins to stuff me into a large, dark bag. I struggle and squeal, terror flooding through me. I see Trey swing a baseball bat at someone, but it practically ricochets off of them and hits Trey in the head, causing a loud thwack to ring through the room. He falls to the ground almost immediately, groaning in pain. I try to call his name, but someone puts a gag over my mouth. I kick and squirm desperately, but I can’t move.

            I catch sight of Trey’s reassuring blue eyes before they zip the bag all the way up, blocking my vision. I writhe around inside, but to no avail. I hear muffled voices, one of which is Trey’s. They begin to drag me across the floor. I scream in frustration and distress. I hear someone gasp in pain. And then I hear one small word before I can no longer hear any voices: “Lin.”

            “Trey!” I shriek behind my gag. I begin to hyperventilate. I feel someone sling me over their shoulder. It is silent for a few moments, but I break the quiet by wailing in dismay when I am suddenly airborne; they have thrown me. But all feelings of fear are instantly replaced with thoughts of pain when I slam into something cold and hard and thump my head on something solid.

            I moan in pain, my head pounding. I try to gather my wits, but the darkness of the bag becomes the darkness of unconsciousness before I can even decipher what has happened or what might happen to me.

• • •

            I come to when someone roughly grabs me and picks me up. I don’t even try to fight. I’m too tired. I’m in too much pain. I don’t have it in me to fight back anymore. I don’t have it in me to be the usual “tough girl” that I always have been. At this point, I can only hope that Trey is okay and that someone will find me soon.

            I squint as bright light bores down on my eyes that have been adjusted to darkness for so long. I can’t really see anything but light, to be honest. I can’t take in my surroundings. I can’t see where I might be able to run. I can’t see who else is with me. I whimper in hopelessness.

            Slowly, a face fades into my vision. A woman, who has golden hair and stern, brown eyes. She watches me with fascination, like I’m a frog freshly dissected in a high school biology class. Like I’m a piece of scientific study. Like I’m not an actual human being. And it really freaks me out.

            “Hello, Linley,” she monotonously.

            “How do you know who I am?” I ask weakly.

            “That isn’t important.”

            “Who are you?”

            “My name is Jade.”

            “Jade what?”

            “Just Jade,” she says firmly.

            “Why am I here?”

            “Because we need you to be.”

            “WHY? Why have you taken me away from my home, where I’m confortable, from the people I love? Why me?”

            “Because we need you.”

            “I want to go home. Please, let me go home. I don’t want to be here!”

            Jade chuckles cruelly. “Well, Linley dear, whether you like it or not, you’re stuck here, with us. And there’s no escaping, so don’t even try.”

            I suddenly become angry. They took me against my will. I think. They hurt me. They hurt Trey. I glare a little, my anger rising with each thought of the wrongs that they have done to me already. Don’t step down Linley. You’re not a wimp. And you will not play the damsel in distress. Get answers. Toughen up. Don’t you dare stand for this. I forget my physical and emotional weakness. I scowl up at Jade, and through gritted teeth, growl, “Why have you brought me here, Jade? I don’t just want a ‘because.’ I want a reason. I want answers. Now.”

            “You will learn soon enough, Linley, that you are not the one who gives orders around here,“ Jade retorts, her voice rising. “You will do as you’re told. You will cooperate. You will not try to fight back. Do you understand me?”

“No,” I scoff, now just trying to irritate her as a plan of attack.

She slams her fist down right next my head. I wince, but I refuse to let myself cry out or react in any other way. She glares at me coldly, her nostrils flaring as she does so. She moves her face so that it is right in front of mine; seemingly so that I cannot look anywhere or even just close my eyes without realizing that she is here and she is not happy with me.

“You better learn to,” she snarls. She moves away and takes a deep breath.

“But if you must know,” she continues calmly and confidently, “You are here because we have decided to make you a part of The Prison Project.”

            She breaks eye contact with me and looks to her left. “Keene,” she barks. “Do it. Now.”

            A man with tousled, mousy brown hair and deep set brown eyes enters my perspective. He looks almost kind, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looks like someone who might be on my side. He looks like someone who just might help me. But I realize that his supposedly kind smile is more of a smile of disgusting pleasure in others’ misfortune as he plunges a needle into my arm and I black out for the second time today.