Please don't feed the children

please don't feed the children chp.12

It’s obvious to me that Jason is coming down the stairs as soon as I hear an angry snarl vibrate off the walls. I wanted to clutch onto Lane, who lay next to me, tighter, but I know I can’t. So instead shake him awake, and before he can croak out an annoyed response, I close his mouth.

His eyes flash with frustration at first, but when the sound of a man gone insane hit his ears, he starts to look at me with panic.

I put my fingers to my lips and run a hand through his hair in an effort to sooth him, but even though I see his eyes calming down, I can still sense the terror he has. Nevertheless, I crawl over to the other side of the cell and hope for the best when Jason comes through that door. I’d much rather he takes shots at me than Lane, because I knew Lane wouldn’t be able to handle the things going on here. Already I notice that his once fiery spirit has been cooled, replaced with fear.

How could it not? He’s been kicked, burned, tortured even more than I may know.  When I first was brought here, I had the same kind of spirit. But after countless beatings because I ‘broke the rules’, I had learned I would never get out of here, so there was no point in fighting.

A sense of manic spirit hits the walls near us and spreads a bad taste into my mouth. I draw in a deep breath, preparing for the pain so it’s easier to handle. But looking down at the scars that creep along my legs, I know that the breathing isn’t any substitute for Novocain. This was going to hurt, one way or another. But hopefully it will keep Jason at bay for a while.

Depending on what kind of mood he was in, Jason had different types of torture. If he was bored, he just wants to watch us bled. If he was in a good mood, he’d come up with some plan to make us curt not only on the outside, but the inside as well.  And when the day came he was just plain angry… let’s just say that even if he leaves, we won’t be feeling any more safe than when he was here.

Lane didn’t know about Jason’s ‘angry’ moods, and I wanted it to stay that way. But it seems you can’t bury the truth when it knows how to dig itself out, over and over again. The truth lingers there, its presence known but kept at a distance until the time was right. And right now, the moment had come where the truth will show itself.

I only wished I had enough strength in me to protect the both of us.

A hushed squeak escapes Lane’s lips when he sees a shadow. The black mass was holding something; it was slim and long, attached to the arm of the shadow. I close my eyes. Please don’t be a knife.

To my relief, when the cell door rattles open, I see a black pole in his hands. It was dark as coal and left a dark dusty imprint on Jason’s hand when he moved it around impatiently in his hand. The bottom of it was flat, but for some reason it was a pale red. He was anxious, ready to unleash whatever kind of pain he wanted.

I didn’t quite understand why he had chosen this weapon among all the others I’ve seen him with. But when he strides over and put the flat end to lane’s neck, that’s when my blood turns cold.

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks.