Gone || ✔

XII

-Lainna-

--The Day Before--

"When you came back, they were angry at your disturbance, appearance, and you talking to me. They're trying to protect me from living things that could hurt me, like you. But I know you would never hurt me. I tried to tell explain that to them, but they wouldn't listen. One of them possessed me because it knew if it didn't, I wouldn't cooperate. I'm sorry if I scared you. You must think I'm crazy." I say, swaying around, looking down. "Do you think I'm crazy?" I stop the swaying and look straight ahead, "I would if I were you," I said, going back to the swaying. "You're the only person I trust, I have. I'm pretty sure I've been talking to myself this whole time."

I look at him and he's passed out. I sigh and lie next to him on the pine needles, snuggling up against him. His body warmth overcoming me. I close my eyes and fall into a dark, heavy sleep.

--Present Day--

I woke up back into the dark, empty chamber. The chains dig into my sore wrists, making them ache even more. I stand, my legs weak and heavy, and I almost collapse. They found me, those cloaks. They locked me up in here once again, hanging me by the wrists. When will they ever learn?- I don't want to stay in this house any longer. Not after they've been starting to torture me.

I yank and pull, trying to escape the pain that shoots through my body, but doing that only makes it worse. I cough, almost like a sob, and sit on my knees, with my arms hung high. I look around the room for something to unlock the cuffs with. I see a key that hangs on the wall across from me, it's too far to reach for. I look on the ground for a pin or something, but I only find a shattered mirror sitting in a corner. They put a mirror in here so when you find it, you're ashamed of what you are and have done. To watch yourself suffer for as long as you're in here.

I stare into my reflection. Eyes wide with sheer horror, a tangled mess of hair, pale arms with healing yellow and purple bruises hang. A small body sitting straight up with almost no fat; just skin and bones.

Upstairs I hear cries of hurt, and my heartbeat quickens. I snap my head to the chamber door and there he is, Jamison. He's thrashing his body around, pleading the cloaks to let him go. They push him down the flight of board stairs and he tumbles down, getting closer to the ground. I try to look away at the horrible sight of him being hurt, but it's like a car crash; tragic, but you can never look away.

He finally lands and bruises cover his body instantly, his lip busted. He just lies there, his chest heaving up and down, breathless. My heart has a piece torn off of it by every slow breath he lets out. The cloaks start towards him and hangs him in the chains, just the same as I am. This is what happens to me when I talk to the living or if I've done something bad.

They pull back their arms in unison, scratching at him, tearing his shirt with their claws. I push myself forward, trying to stop them, but I get caught by the chains. They clang against the wall when I fall back and that gets the cloaks attention. I look at them then to Jamison, who is deep in pain with his blood soaked shirt. I try to slip my hands through the cuffs slowly, but painfully. They become free, and I push the cloaks out of the way. I'm stronger than them, I'm alive, not dead.

They disappear immediately after I push the one in front and I sort of run/limp to Jamison. I kneel down in front of his weak figure, putting my pale little hand and his tan cheek and jaw bone. I move his head slowly to the right, making sure he's okay and so I can see his face better. His eyes snap open and he becomes tense. Probably from the shock of pain. Once his eyes meet mine, he settles down and relaxes.

"Look what they've done to you." I whine, examining his split lip. He turns his head away, making my hand fall off his face. I frown, "What's wrong?" He looks back at me, except there's much more pain in his eyes then there was before.

"I don't want you to see me like this. Weak, hurt," he looks down at his bloody shirt, "scratched and deeply in pain." He looks at me again. "I don't want you to be scared."

"I'm not scared." I assure him. "I've been through this more than once. I'm going to sew up the scratches so they heal right, okay? I'm going to make you feel better."

"But what about you?" He asks like a little kid. "I'm going to be fine. You're worse than me." I say. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get a first aid kit and come back to get you so we can get out of here. I won't be long." I kiss him real quick and run up the creaking stairs into the bathroom. I dig through every drawer and cabinet, making a mess, until I finally find it. Unfortunately, it's on the top shelf and I'm too short to reach. I jump up and down, trying to reach it. On my eleventh try, I finally reach it and run out of the bathroom and back into the chamber.

Jamison sits on the floor untouched by the cloaks and I'm thankful. I grab the keys off the wall next to the rows of chains and unlock the cuffs. His arms fall by his sides and he winces. "Sorry." I say, wincing too. I pull him up under the shoulders, my right arm wrapped around under his shoulders to prop him up. He gets the strength to stand and we walk up the stairs slowly.

Once we've reached the door, I try to open it but it's locked. I start to panic. "The door won't open." I tug and pull but nothing happens. He sneaks his arm to the door, unlocks the door handle and opens the door. "Well would you look at that." He says smiling and teasing me. I stomp out the door. I can't believe I couldn't open a stupid door.

"Lainna," he says, laughing a little. I glare at him and he clears his throat. "Lainna, it's fine. Just sew me up and we can head home." I nod and open the first aid kit. There's bandages, peroxide, dissolving stitches and many more medicines. I grab the bandages, peroxide, stitches, and cotton balls. I slip off his shirt slowly so it doesn't hurt. The cuts are sticking to his shirt. He flinches and winces and I bite my lip, trying to be as gentle as possible. I clean up the cuts once his shirt is off and start to stitch them shut. He sits there patiently, staring off into the woods. I clean up and little cut on his forehead and his lip.

"All done." I say and give him the sweatshirt that's tied around my waist. "Where this, so you don't have to walk around without a shirt." He takes it and looks at me. "What?"

"I thought you didn't want to come back." He says, with a little bit of pain in his voice. I think about it. If I leave, then I would get in trouble, face the consequences and go to school. If I leave, I'd be free, I'd never have to be abused by the cloaks again. If I leave, then I could be with Jamison and be happy. "I'm coming back." I say, "So when do we leave?" I smile and his smile matches mine.

"Now."