The Seventh Sin | Wattys2016

☩ Chapter Four ☩

Time is meaningless in the dark. With the absence of light is the absence of normality. Normal things become twisted monsters. Noises come from lurking beasts. Your darkest memories rise to the surface of your consciousness until your drowning in your past.

There's dripping in the corner of my cell. I'm sure it's just condensation falling from the stone-slab ceiling, but the part of my brain that wakes up in the dark convinces me otherwise. It's a steady drip-drip-drip until my mind changes it to a distant memory.

Now I can smell wet earth and a storm breeze lifts my hair off my shoulders. Is this real? The pattering of water increases until it's the hushed murmur of a summer storm.

My eyes close and my body trembles like a leaf caught in the wind. I don't want to relive this.

Coolness meets my palms. No, I tell myself. It's not glass under your fingertips. Just the floor.

Bit by bit, I convince my body to return to reality. The patter of water is just from wet stone; there is no breeze. And he--

I jerk. The memory dissipates and I'm yanked back to my cell. Alone. In the dark. And hungry. More familiar than I'd like to admit.

How much time passes before my next meal is slid under my door is impossible to determine. I fall forward to let the tiny strip of light hit my skin before the flap shuts. I lay for a while with my arms at an angle behind my back. My check rests against the floor. My eyes are closed. Or are they? I can't tell in the dark.

The pattering in the corner picks up. I inhale. Exhale. Focus on staying in the present.

But the memory is tugging on me. I can't resist. I'm too tired-- too weak. The hunger is too intense. It leaves me hollow. Just like that day.

Rain patter now surrounds me. Tendrils of my hair tickle my cheek. Panic settles in my bones.

The ground is soggy from the rain, and my bare feet sink into the mud. The bottom of my pajama pants cling to my skinny ten year old legs.

I'm standing behind our Louisiana house. Spanish moss hangs off our large cypress tree. Twilight is just beginning to settle in the sky.

My hands rest on the back window to our house while I peer inside. Furniture is overturned. Papers are scattered  across the floor. Broken glass glints by the door. My breath puffs out in shock and fogs the window.

The fog retreats and I look past the reflection of my wide, terrified eyes. Two figures appear to wrestle in the corner. The figures scuffle and one of them hits the floor. The thump sends a shudder down my spine.

The one who fell is scrambling backwards. The tips of slender fingers with pink nails are now visible in what little light illuminates the room. My breath sticks in my throat.

The other figure kneels on top of the woman. Red mist hovers over him.

Hunger stabs me in the gut and I double over. It hurts. It feels like my stomach is being twisted and pulled out. My mouth opens. I think I am going to cry out, but I'm confused when I don't. Instead, the red mist I saw hovering over the man snakes into my mouth.

The pain loosens. My mouth shuts. I feel better. So much better. I breath for a second before remembering the man.

I peek into the window. The man grunts before pushing himself off of her. A zipper zips up.

The figure reaches into his jacket. He pulls out something suspiciously the shape of a gun. He points. Shoots. And he's gone.

It's dark now. My senses are off. My ears ring. Was it because of the gun shot? I push open the back door.

My house is eerily quiet. Water from my pants and hair drip onto the hardwood floors. My chest is too tight. I can't breathe properly.

I skirt the kitchen before taking a look into the dining room. The woman is sprawled out on the ground. Her favorite pair of jeans are discarded beside her. A pool of dark water sits underneath her.

I stumble forwards. A piece of glass imbeds itself into my foot and I fall. Warm wetness touches the side of my face.

My lip quivers. I push myself onto my forearms. Tears blur my vision, but I know what is before me.

My mother is dead. There's a hole in her throat that is leaking the same stuff I fell in. Horror rises in my throat. Blood. Blood all over me. On my face and my hands.

I scramble to my feet, ignoring the flare of pain of the glass wedging itself farther into my skin. Air sticks in my windpipe. The dark closes in on me.

I try to run from it. I need to get away. I need to get into the light. Nothing bad happens there. And whoever he was...

My stomach heaves. I puke up my dinner of chicken nuggets beside the old cypress tree. When I finish, I look up.

The rain has stopped, but now it is dark out. The storm clouds hide the stars. The only way to go is into the twisted marshes of Louisiana. I can't let that man find me. I need to escape.

I push off from the tree, rip off some moss, and scrub my face and hands. With my skin raw and the blood gone, I push into the marsh.

Tears still stream down my face.

So what do you guys think? Please let me know in the comments below! (Poor Bella, right?) If you're lucky, you might get a future chapter from Antonio's P.O.V.

-Sophia