Unwelcome

10

            I jolt awake with a scream stuck in my throat. There are tears on my cheeks that I don't remember crying. The erratic beat of my heart is deafening in my ears.

I just lie there for what seems like forever and stare at the ceiling trying not to panic at my foreign surroundings.

I take one breath. In. out.

in. out.

in. out.

     Everything slowly comes back to me,

Richard injured

Alan dead

Lance

Brothers, the Da Silvas

My room

Thats where I am. My room.

I close my eyes and let out a deep exhale.

Not. Again.

        This is the fourth time this week I wake up like this. From a nightmare, and a panic attack usually follows.

Cold clammy sweat coats my skin and the too soft sheets stick to my skin. Dim moonlight blankets the room giving it a icy feel. I slowly lift myself up from the bed and hunch over and immediately wince. The bruises on my skin are sore from all the movement I did in my sleep. I rub my lower ribs trying to ease the throbbing there.

        Inside the bathroom, I heave up the contents of my stomach. I say goodbye to the delicious chicken and rice I had for dinner and flush the toilet.

The reflection in the mirror looks like nothing like me 2 weeks ago. Her frame is skinnier than ever, and her hair looks like a rare species of birds nest. The dark circles under her eyes are concerning and theres a fading bruise on her collarbone and on the place where her neck meets her shoulder.

       Her eyes are lifeless.

I snort. Who would of thought. Me staring into the mirror sadly like a wannabe disney character.

I quickly stalk out of the bathroom before I start singing a weird disney song as well.

        After failing miserably at trying to fall back asleep I decide to go get a midnight snack to pass the time.

Thankfully, yesterday I explored most parts of the house and dropped locations for most of the places.

I open my phone and search for 'kitchen (a)'

Following the directions on my GPS I hum to a tuneless song that I make up on the spot.

The small kitchen that I reach is connected to a cozy living room with a huge flat screen TV.

       The cabinets are light gray and the island is powder white. When I make sure no one's in there I step in and look around. I rummage through the fridge and find an apple, a six pack of beer (are they alcoholics?) a plate (dunno what thats doing in there), and a stale pizza.

Shutting the fridge in defeat I settle on a glass of water. I pour myself a huge glass of water and sit my ass down on the plush couch in the living room.

         I stretch my stiff limbs and stifle a wince of pain at the movement. Rubbing my ribs again I pick up my phone. That fucker Richard. I hope he dies of explosive diarrhea and deathly STD. Even Alan Black wasn't as bad as Richard. This guy is literally every childs nightmare, the type of guy parents warn children about. Black was smart enough to know that he needed to train me, make me loyal to him, and trust him. So he never laid a finger on me. Ever. He had other forms of punishment.