Lead Me Out of the Dark

Blood, Bruises, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre

At six fifty eight, my hair was straightened, I had on black eyeliner, and my lips were coated in nude lip gloss. I was wearing a black shirt that had a bunch of ribbons tied in black bows on the back. I had on black skinny jeans and black heels, the only pair that I owned. I thought I looked alright. Jack showed up in his Mercedes, and we took off at seven twenty. He was going on about how the football game went today, so I nodded at the appropriate times. When we got to the theater, he bought the tickets and the candy.

                “Wait, what movie are we watching?” I asked. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I’d forgotten to even ask him what we were seeing. I had been silently cursing Deck with every swearword that my mind could possibly think up. We were already sitting inside the theater. I could be so ditsy sometimes.

                “Texas Chainsaw Massacre, in 3D,” Jack grinned. What? My breath hitched in my chest. He couldn’t possibly be serious. I hated blood! I couldn’t watch scary movies! He noticed my panicked expression and he chortled.

                “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to protect you,” he teased. It was funny how that didn’t make me feel better.

                Only thirty minutes had passed before I started getting nauseous. This movie was extremely graphic, and I didn’t have the heart to tell Jack that I hated blood. Forty five minutes into the movie, my mom’s face replaced the killer. I could see my mother laughing, pushing and pulling. I was caught, frozen, paralyzed. The ringing of Jack’s phone was the only thing to jolt me out of my reverie. He had been texting throughout the entire movie. I stood up quickly, excusing myself to go use the bathroom. I pushed my way out of the theater. I needed fresh air. I had my cell phone out and I was dialing instantly.

                “Linda, is Deck there?” I whispered.

                “Yeah, sweetie, just a second,” she exclaimed. “Is everything alright?” I didn’t answer. I just waited for Deck. She was stabbing him now, over and over and over. The crimson was running down his body in long streams of color.

                “Skye?” His voice made my knees weak with relief.

                “I need you to come get me. Please,” my voice was a wavering whisper. I was fighting gaseousness and unconsciousness. Black was pulsing at the edges of my vision.

                “I’m already on my way. Did he try something? Are you hurt?” 911, what is your emergency? Are you hurt? No, I’m not hurt you stupid fucking idiots! She killed my dad! My dad is dead!

                “Skye?” A voice called out. I looked up, up out of my memory.

                “John?” And then the black enveloped me.

My eyes opened slowly. It felt like I was floating. When had I gone swimming?

                “John?” I asked, my eyes finding him. He was carrying me somewhere. How had I ended up with John? Oh no, I gasped. Had I gotten high? Deck was going to kill me! He was going to throw me off of a cliff and never speak to me again! I was going to be buried six feet under the ground and I’d never return and-

                “Oh my God, please shut up,” John begged. My eyes widened. Had I been saying all of that out loud?

                “Yes,” John answered. My cheeks flamed. He laughed at my reaction, and I remembered why I liked him. He had never been an addict, like a lot of the other idiots at our school. He had sold it so he could take care of his little sister. They lived alone together, and he sold drugs to support the two of them. It was the only job he could get until he was eighteen. He couldn’t go into the foster care system for fear that they would separate him and his sister. I had always liked him. He had good values.