Experiment 21

3 ~ A Nasty Surprise

Red flooded behind my eyes the next morning, reminding me to wake up again. I groaned, and stretched my limps out in every direction, like a cat. I rubbed my groggy eyes and ran a haphazard hand through my hair in an attempt to tame it. Not possible, considering the dried blood matted into it. I swallowed; it felt a little rough already. There was water all around, of course I noticed that. But no way was I ever going to drink it.

"Could at least give me water." I grumbled miserably, standing in the middle of the room a little awkwardly. What could I do? What did people normally do when they were kidnapped? Play cards with the mice? Not that there were any...

I settled for kicking a pile of dirt nearby. A flash of white poking through the brown grains make me double take. A frown spread across my forehead. I knelt down on my knees and gingerly pulled out the paper inside. My heart was thumping rapidly as I read it:

Dear Poor Stranger,

I'm so sorry you're here, just like me. Just like the others. I'm Sophie, and I've been here for exactly five months. I'm hungry. I'm tired. I'm thirsty. If you find this, I'm most likely dead. The men are giving me recent visits...I wont tell you what for. I don't want to scare you any more than you must be already.

I probably should have saved you some food. Maybe you could escape? But I was so hungry....I'm sorry. Someone will find the kids. They cant hide us out here in the pacific forever. Anyway...there's a pen deeper in the mud pile...I don't know if it will help or not.

I really hope you live.

~Sophie.

The lump in my throat was almost unbearable. I could hardly breathe. I dug further inside the mud pile and there was, in fact, a pink glittery pen buried deep inside. I brushed off the dust and scribbled on the paper. It still worked. I don't know what help it would be, but I kept it anyway. I folded the paper, and tossed it to the other side of the room.

Just being near it gave me the creeps.

There was something on the walls I hadn't noticed before. Names, in different handwriting were etched carefully onto the walls. Sophie. Alice. Sam. Jake. Lucy. Names of dead children, memories of their pain and torture. It was a terrible proof that my discomfort was about to get worse.

I shut my eyes and thought of Christmas, little more than a few weeks away. I would miss it. I would miss the presents, the candles and the family dinner.

“Honey, we're going to decorate the tree. Are you going to help?" Mother asked. I nodded excitedly. Christmas was my favourite time of the year. I loved the satisfaction of putting up the glittery decorations. Each one was unique.

 My father stepped into the room, his big, glowing mood lighting up the room. A big grin was painted across his kind but aging face, as he swept me into a huge hug. "This years going to be the best Gracie." I chuckled. He said that every year.

 I laughed. "Sure, Dad,"

Buring inside the box for christmas decorations felt like a pop quiz. Choosing which was the shiniest, where it should go. It was all part of the fun. And the star was the best bit; Mom and Dad always let me do that bit, because they knew I loved it the most.

 "Done." We all said together after everything was up and the christmas tree was shining like there was no tomorrow. The flashing lights were mesmorising - so we just stood there and marveled in its beauty for a while.

We couldnt stare at lights all night, so Dad decided we should fit the lights to the top of the roof. I told him we should probably wait until the morning; the roof was quite slippy, and he could get hurt if he fell. But he didnt listen - he jst wanted to do the damn lights. Outside, Dad propped up the ladder against the wall. He started to nail the lights to the edge of the house.

"Just watch. Any minute now, he'll fall." Mom murmered, biting her nails in anxiety. I patted her shoulder in comfort.

"He'll be fine-," I started, but then there was a loud cry and the ladder started to edge backwards. It was like it was in slow motion - we could only watch as my father yelped and waved his arms out on either side of him helplessly. It was a large drop to the ground, and the concrete was waiting below.

He hit the floor with a thud.

"Graham!" Mom screamed.

"Dad!" I cried.

We dashed to his side; he wasnt moving. Mom dialled 911 with shaky fingers, and an hour later the wail of an ambulance rung through the street.

I remember that was the only time we didnt have a good christmas. Dad spent nearly a week in hospital due to the large drop. I didn't get presents, because Dad nearly bought them, but I didn't care that year. After that though, he laughed about it. Me and Mom didn't; he scared us to death.

I was so lost in thought, I almost missed the brief scraping sound. I shuffled over to the wall a bit closer, and listened. Maybe, just maybe...

Silence.

My breath rushed out of me, a breath I didn't know I had been holding. I felt like my stomach had dropped out from underneath me I was so disapointed. I really though someone had come to get me.

And then suddenly it was louder than before, shaking the concete room like an earthquake. A high pitch squeal and the sound of a turning wheel echoed through the room. I was quivering in fear, shaking with excitement. This could either be a good thing, or a very, very bad thing. The thought of it being my family was too wonderful for me to deny. I might get to go to college, get a job, get married. Have kids, and-,

But I was so, so very wrong.

Light shot through the room, piercing my eyes like shiny gold shards. I shielded my eyes just enough so I could see a man, tall and menacing step through the doorway of my cell. I backed up against the wall, very, very slowly. It wasn't my dad. My Dad didn't have a long scruffy beard, a beer belly and a par of dark, deadly eyes. Onyx.

Oh God.

"Please, no!" I whimpered, when he took a long stride forwards and grabbed the collar of my dark blue overalls. He traced a long, torturous finger over the red numbers on my head. A low, gurgling laugh worked its way through his chest.

"Pretty one, aren't you?" His breath oozed over my face in gruesome waves of fishhhhh. Every bone in my body stood rigid with fear as he started to laugh, getting higher and more hysterical. Like a sick bastard. Like a mad man.

My kidnapped made a gesturing motion towards the door. "Come on in boys,"

Three men charged through the door, each bellowing in a different octave of hystericl laughter. They were sadists, laughing at my pain as they beat me so hard I didnt know which part of my body was which. Fists pummeIed my face, my chest. Feet stomped on my legs and crippled my toes. I felt a particular sharp pain on my wrist. One man was torturously twisting it like he was attempting a 360 degree angle. I screamed as he kept twisting and twisting until the light faded behind my eyes. Finally, my body convulsed in pain and a sharp crack bounced off the concrete walls.

With any luck I wouldn't wake up.

Song - Poppinjay, The Joy Formidable