The Test

Chapter Six

Layna

"What the hell is your problem, you bastard!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "How fucking psychotic are you!"

There was no way in hell that I was going to stay in here. For all I knew, these were poisonous, jumping spiders that could kill me.

I grabbed a chunk of the broken wood that was lying on the ground from where I broke out of the coffin. Slowly standing up, I used the wood to gently move the spiders out from the middle of the room to create a pathway to the door.

I was free.

Not wanting to waste a single second, I ran through the house and to the front door that Brian had brought me through, flinging it open...

...Only to smack face first into a warm body.

"Where do you think you're going?" Brian growled, grabbing my shoulders.

No. This was not happening, not now, not when I had gotten so close to freedom. I could feel the cool breeze tickling my face, and that's when I decided that I wasn't going to sit here, and let him take me again.

I smashed me knee into his groin as hard as I could and he grunted in pain. Then, with the wood that I was still holding, a cracked the back of his head, and he dropped to the floor.

Running out the front door, I went down the road that led to the house, hoping that it led to a main road, or even a neighbor's house.

Suddenly, there was pressure around my middle and I screamed as I was yanked back. Brian's hand wrapped around my neck and he squeezed.

"You think you could escape, you little bitch?" he said, his face red with rage.

Tears streamed down my face as my body tried, unsuccessfully, to get enough oxygen to breathe. The edge of my vision was starting to go black, and I struggled harder trying to get him to let go.

I brought my hand up and scratched the side of his face as hard as I could, digging in my nails. He let out a shout of pain, and released my neck.

Coughing, I breathed deeply, and started to run again. But I didn't get far before Brian tackled me from behind, and my face slammed into the dirt of the road. The air was knocked out of me and I struggled to breathe, as he stood up.

"You little bitch," he said again, grabbing me by my hair, and dragging me back into the house and up the stairs to a different room this time.

He threw me onto a bed, and slammed the door shut behind him. "You really shouldn't have done that," he whispered, and punched me in the face, the cartilage of my nose crunching under his fist.

Blood started to pour out of my nose, and I could feel it starting to swell. I brought my pajama sleeve up to try and stop the bleeding.

Brian's face was shocked, and he stared down at his hand like it had betrayed him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered touching my face. I flinched away from him and crawled into the corner, as far away from him as possible.

"Why are you keeping me here?" I asked my voice hoarse. "Just let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone what happened."

"But you need to stay here. You need to finish the test, so that we can be together."

"What test?" I cried.

"It tests you, Layna. Tests to make sure you aren't weak, that you aren't scared of anything." His face darkened, "Daddy tested me too, you know, to make sure I was strong."

"I don't want to be tested," I whimpered, tears streaming down my face.

"Don't cry!" he yelled. "Daddy doesn't like it when you cry like a weakling." He glanced behind him, "Don't worry daddy, she is strong. Not like the other ones." He wasn't speaking to me anymore; he was speaking to the corner of the room.

Oh god, he was a complete and utter psychopath. How had I not noticed this when I was dating him?

"What happens if I don't pass the test?" I asked, my voice shaking.

He looked at me, emotionless, "I kill you."

***

I was no stranger to bad luck. See, my biological parents had abused me from when I was born. And, when I was three, they took me to a park to play, left, and never came back. The police found me two days later, sleeping on a bench.

That's when Steve and Tom adopted me. They took me into their home, and became the parents that my real parents had never been.

But I was a traumatized child, and every night, I had nightmares that I woke up to screaming. And not even Steve and Tom couldn't stop the crying.

No one could, except for the little boy next door, the one whose window I was right across from. The one who, every night he heard me scream, would climb through my window to hold my hand.

Even when I got older, and I still had the nightmares, he would let me climb into his bed, and would hold me all night, allowing me to sleep peacefully.

He told me that he would always protect me from the scary dreams. That he would protect me, period.

And he did. When I started school, and I got bullied for having two dads, he would go up and punch the rude assholes in the face.

The boy who I had fallen in love with.

The boy who had broken my heart.

Derek.

***

"Daddy says that you can eat now, and rest before your next test." He left the room, only to come back a couple minutes later with a sandwich, and a bottle of water.

He put it down in front of me, but I didn't dare touch it. This crazy bastard probably poisoned it.

Sighing, he opened the water and took a drink, and then opened the wrapper on the sandwich and took a bit. "See, I'm still alive." He said quietly.

Still, I didn't touch the food. "I would never take anything from you," I spat.

"You ungrateful cow!" he roared, slamming my head against the wall. He forced my mouth opened, and shoved the sandwich in. "Take a bite." He said deathly calm.

I shook my head. I was stubborn, and I wasn't backing down.

His hand shot out, hitting my ribs so hard, that I flew into the wall. I slid down to the floor, staring at Brian in shock.

He slowly stalked towards me, but suddenly, his head whipped around to the corner of the room. "But daddy!" he said, in a childish tone. He flinched. "Okay, daddy...I won't"

Brian grabbed me roughly, and pushed me onto the bed. Pulling out two sets of handcuffs from his back pocket, he cuffed both of my hands to the metal railing of the bed.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"People will know that you are missing now. I need to go back so people don't think it's me, and the police will want to ask me questions. I'll be back later."

Before leaving, he tested the strength of the handcuffs to make sure I couldn't get out. Satisfied, he left.

Even though it was useless, I pulled at the handcuffs trying to free myself, but I only succeeded in cutting my wrists on the sharp metal. They were the kind that police used, and very strong.

I slumped down on the mattress, sobbing. I couldn't do this anymore; I just wanted it all to end. I wanted to see Tom and Steve again, and wanted everything to go back to how it was before Brian.

But most of all, I wanted Derek to hold me again, to tell me everything was going to be okay.

Even though I knew it wouldn't be.