My Cold Days

Ch. 5

     I couldn't control myself. One single touch, that's all it takes. With one last moment of sanity, I looked into Jack Davis's eyes. He didn't even show a hint of panic. It was a strength unlike anything I've seen before. I could feel my heart beat speed up violently. I hated every second of it. This couldn't be happenning. I knew what I looked like when this happenned. Surely, I was smiling like a maniac, showing off a pleasure for my actions. People must think I enjoyed this.

Or maybe.... it wasn't me. All I know is that somehow he winced and pulled free after what seemed like an eternity. I dropped to the ground in shame. Tears started streaming down my face. I couldn't look at Jack Davis again. I started to quiver as I spoke.

 "I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't  mean to." He walked in front of me. He was somehow unharmed. He appeared as if nothing happened. He kneeled down to my level staring right at me. Eye to eye. 

"I'm so sorry. I am so so sorry Jack. No I mean, uh, I" I kept speaking in barely audible sobs. I don't mean to call him Jack. His name was Jack Davis and nothing less. 

"Relax," he began, "I like Jack. No one calls me that."

"How are you alright?" I inquired ignoring his statement. "That's impossible."

"What do you mean?"

"You t-touched me. Contact to my skin. I-"

"Let me stop you there. I'm wearing gloves. No contact. Maybe for a split second with this tear here, but why does it even matter?"

I couldn't tell him the truth. I wanted to keep him safe. Why? I just can't hurt anyone. 

"It doesn't." I replied. I didn't even look at him, my eyes were shut tightly. I didn't dare want to see where I touched him. Or if he was even wearing  gloves at all. Any contact whatsoever can entirely take me away. I opened my eyes to see Jack Davis directly in front of me. I fell back shocked that he moved anywhere near me. "Get away from me." I whispered, my voice still weak. 

"Tell me. What's the problem?"

"I can't Jack Davis. Don't you see?"

"You can still call me Jack. It's ok."
    I stood up and marched back to my bed furiously. I couldn't believe him. He was determined to figure out my secret. I was too nervous to even think about that though. Even if the touch wasn't long enough to hurt him, I still went under. I could've hurt him terribly. I don't want to ever touch him again.
    I pulled out my journal to try and get my mind off things. I started to sketch a hand in the corner of a new page. Sometimes my drawings had no purpose. Sometimes they were only to take the place of boredom in my life. Hours had passed and all I had done was sketch and look at the stories in the ceiling. I prepared myself for bed. I wrapped myself in my blanket and yearned for warmth. Soon I was fast asleep. Then, the dreams came.

~•~

"Don't you dare say a word! You have done enough damage, monster," scowled a tall grey haired man. Blood stained the wood flooring.

 "Do it again." repeated the man. A broad, muscular man drew back a whip and a hit a young girl. She was stripped of her clothes except for a tank top and underwear. Tears quickly dripping down the side of her face.

I ran towards her. I tried to stop the whip from hitting her, but when it got to me it just passed through, hitting the girl. It was like I wasn't even there. She yelped in pain and collapsed completely. Another wound opened over her other wounds. 

I wanted to yell. Scream. Hurt the people hitting the girl. Then I realized who these people were. The gray haired man. He was the same man I saw on my first time in this treacherous place. He was the same man standing there when I was being beaten. The girl in my dream... was me.

This wasn't a dream. This was a memory. This was my punishment. A guard grabbed me that day. I went under. Of course the pain of my burden was punishment enough, but it did not seem that way to anyone else. 

The man who had touched me, was escorting me to my cell, but decided to stop in a room where no one else was present. I was alone there with him. He didn't know why I was arrested so he couldn't have known what would happen to him. I stood in that room, terrified, as he circed me. He smiled passed his hand over my arm. I had sleeves on that would cover my skin, so I didn't care. What he did next made me uncomfortable. He grabbed me from behind and wouldn't let go. Me, being an idiot, didn't do anything because he wasn't touching my skin. 

I just stammered nervously, "D-don't touch my skin p-please." 

He laughed, "I can do what I want and no one will believe you. You're a crazy nutjob and I'm a guard." He proceeded to lift up my skirt and when he touched my bare skin, that's when things went south. 

The memories of that day were to much to bare. The man who had tocuhed me, suffered mild injuries because he managed to pull away from me before any real damage could happen. Believing that I had attacked the guard myself, I was sentenced to as many lashes as seemed necessary. 

The muscular man laughed as I sat on the ground in pain. He swung the wip back and forth waiting for permission to continue. 

"P-please. Stop," I managed to say.

"I said silence! Forty more lashes. Now!" Commanded the gray haired man.
The muscular man drew back the whip. He moved it to hit me. Just as it made contact with my body in the dream I awoke. Pain gripped my real body.