Furious

Chapter Thirteen

When I woke it was still dark, no light peeked in through the windows. I reached around my head in a sleepy haze, looking for my cell phone. What could have possessed me to wake up before the sun?

But there was no cell phone. There were no windows to let in light.

Because I'm not in my own bed.

I sat up slowly. All of the memories from yesterday—yester-whenever—came rushing back. Thanks to the new hell I found myself in, I knew of all kinds of monsters that could be poised under the bed, waiting patiently to grab my ankles and drag me away.

No need to throw off the blankets. I hadn't been covered and I was still wearing my shoes. Despite having slept in my dusty clothes, I felt infinitely better for having had some rest.

Jasper never needs to know. If he asks, the bed was lumpy.

Speaking of Jasper, what kind of mind control did he possess? In the dark I rubbed my face with both hands, breathing deeply to fend of the tendrils of panic I could already feel in the back of my brain.

In an alternate universe, I might have gone to the kitchen where I would undoubtedly find Jasper and asked him about mind control. Acted like a calm adult. But in this universe, the one with ancient gods and magic portals and control freaks, I vowed not to lie down and be the brunt of their cruel joke. So I summoned all of the anger and fear I felt at the hands of Jasper's tricks and turned it into something beautiful. Something furious.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed. They thudded to the floor. The darkness of the room threw my inner child into fits—don't look now but there's something under the bed—and my body tensed unnecessarily. I waited, testing the lengths of my new courage. Though nothing grabbed for me the tension did not leave my shoulders. I felt my way to the door, taking deliberate steps in the dark. When I found it, my hands trailed up and down until they landed on a knob. It didn't turn.

Not. Cool.

I gritted my teeth and I tried the knob again, turning in the other direction. It didn't budge. My chest closed up at the realization: they locked me in my own damn room like a misbehaving child or a dirty little secret.

Air flowed in and out of my nose in short spurts. My lips pressed together, my teeth clamped shut behind them. I wanted to scream. I ached to rip into something and tear it apart. My hands curled into fists.

And before I knew it I had taken a step back. A roar escaped my lips and in the dark I kicked the door open. In a moment of pure rage my body acted almost on its own.

Very cool.

Light streamed into the dark bedroom from the living room making me blink several times before stepping out of the dimness.

Stepping from the darkness and into enlightenment. Accompanying the Iliad, Plato's Allegory of the Cave was included on my advanced English syllabus last year. The man who escaped the cave was had no idea what waited for him outside of his imprisonment yet learned to accept the change, to embrace the new knowledge presented to him.

Allegory this was not. I knew exactly what waited for me in the light, Hector and Jasper, myths and war. But I wasn't about to return to the cave like the nameless character of Plat's allegory, back to ignorance and blindness, for any reason.

Two men sat expectantly on opposite sofas, conversation cut off by he sound of my violent entrance.

"Which one of you locked the door?" It seemed like a good place to start. I mentally patted myself on the back for speaking low and clear instead of growling.