Final Wishes

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

DANNY’S POV

                Sometimes being alive is harder than being dead.  At least if you’re dead people will mourn your loss.  You won’t be able to feel pain any longer, and death is a guarantee that you won’t be worrying about anything anymore. 

Being alive is the exact opposite.  It may bring you feelings and emotions. Rage, love, passion. Lust, hatred and disgust.  Life also gifts us with the ability to hope, to wish, to dream and to succeed.  There’s the revenge getting and the life altering moments that make being alive a non-stop roller coaster.  The ups and downs; highs and lows.  Everything about life is designed to make you crave what you’ll never have and reach for what can never be. My mom used to tell me, “reach for the moon, even if you miss you’ll land among the stars.”  I felt like laughing at her whenever she said this. 

No one wants to be another speck of dust floating through the sky.  We as people, all want to be someone special.  We all want to have our moment to shine.  That’s why people reach for the moon; in the hopes of becoming the next big sensation.  They don’t want to be a has-been or a hanger-on; they want to be the BIG DEAL. They want to be the person that everyone wants to be seen with; the dumper, not the dumpee, and the crusher, not the crushed. 

We all have these hidden depths inside of our souls; the little girls that scream out and cry in their need for attention.  These feelings may be buried deep, but they’re always there and will never go away.  It’s simple, deep down, we all want to be those rich mean girls that can make other people cry, steal the best cake, and have everyone hate them, as much as they’re loved.

Right now, I could care less about being the cake stealer or having people admire me because I’m a horrid human being.  At present, I could care less how many people would like to be me, or have my life.  I don’t care, because I don’t want to have my life right now.

I don’t want to be spending the rest of my life in a dark, dirty, dank cell, surrounded by the scent of dead rodents and bodily functions.  Instead of waiting for them to show me to my father, for him to turn his back on me, and for me to be killed, I want freedom.  These hostage situations get boring when there’s no one to talk to, no food, and threats of physical abuse. 

Daddy doesn’t think I know about the family business.  He tries to protect me by keeping me in the dark, but since my first abduction, I knew something was different.  He was the only dad on my block that was home in time for dinner each night.  He was the only dad who had more brothers show up at our house, with myriad wounds, than he had business partners show up with briefcases. 

Dad always tried to convince me that he was a CEO of some high-end technology firm, but I knew otherwise.  There were always the little things; the calluses on his hands, and the lacerations along his back were just the tips of the iceberg.  I was starting to be afraid of my own dad when I was snatched for the first time.

I was ten and I had been on my way home from school.  The sun was shining and I had stopped to pick some flowers.  Mom had warned me to never stop and play in the park, when I was walking home.  She told me that it was dangerous and that something bad could happen to me before I even noticed.  I listened to her and nodded my head.  I wouldn’t play in the park, but she never said anything about not picking flowers for her birthday.

I learned the lesson the hard way when I was snatched from the park.  I was locked in a closet for a week before my dad found me.  I was on death’s bed.  That’s when my courtship with the hospital really began.  Since then, I’ve been in and out of hospitals at least once a month.  When I get really desperate, we see each other three or four times a week.

Dad marched into the house like he owned the place.  There was a crack in the closet wall, so I could see everything that happened.  Dad had this really big Semi-automatic gun in his hand and he just started pointing and shooting.  Bullets flew, and by the time he reached me, no one else was standing.

He took me to the hospital, but I was drifting in and out of consciousness the whole time.  That’s probably why we didn’t have ‘the talk.’ He thought I wouldn’t remember anything, and if I did, he could pass it off as a hallucination.  Well, news flash dad, I knew!

“Hellllllloo?” I snapped.  “Is anyone gonna feed me, or am I just going to be left down here to starve before you get around to showing dad I’m here, and he gets around to caring?”

The door swung open and I was blinded by the rush of light that assaulted my eyes.  “Eat.” A tray of food was thrust across the room at me.  I tried to catch it with my feet, but the door shut again, leaving me in complete darkness.

A liquid sloshed across my bare leg.  The sticky substance made the short hairs on my legs stand on end.  I felt around for a spoon, but there wasn’t one.

“Can I have a spoon?” I called out as I tried to wipe the liquid off of my leg.

There was no answer.

After trying to sleep with no success, I just closed my eyes and relaxed my body.  Something scurried along my leg and sharp objects dug into my leg. “Argh,” I screamed as I jolted upright.  My legs wobbled as I tried to shake the thing off of my leg.  Somehow, it wouldn’t come off.

Dragging my hand down, I felt along my leg, trying to figure out, why my leg was throbbing in agony.  My hand came across something furry.  There was a tail, and big teeth. 

Oh my, gah . . . I screeched.  Deep in my throat, this roar of agony came throttling out.  It shook the cell as my body swayed. 

I felt so woo— woozy . . .

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So . . . Sorry it's short.  I'm super swamped right now with an essay and a poetry assignment due next week, and no weekend time because I have family commitments.  Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it.  FAN, VOTE, COMMENT.  Thanks