Through the Break in Her Hair

Chapter 19

I could feel myself falling, and floating at the same time, like I had broken past the boundaries of gravity. Oh, God! How deep did these cracks go?! I tried to cry out for help, but my voice was smothered, my mouth held shut against its will. It was like one of those terrible nightmares where you're screaming at the top of your lungs, but nothing comes out.

My brain ordered me to thrash around, to kick, and punch, and squirm, to do everything in my power to get free. Only, my power was gone. All my strength too. My limbs hung lifelessly in place, not even my fingers or toes obeyed my commands.

Oh God, no, God, no! My breathing frantically sped out of control. I'm paralyzed! I landed on my neck and now I'm paralyzed!!

"Wake him before the hysterics set in." A voice I had never heard before hovered above my consciousness, just out of reach of my understanding.

The timbre of his voice was so low, so gravelly, that it could have passed as w wild animal's. Kind of what I imagine a grizzly bear or a Spanish bull would sound like, if they had been given a voice to speak.

"Trust me, the longer he's out the better." This came from Van. I could pick his voice out of a crowd of screaming babies, and it would undoubtedly still be the most annoying sound.

The man grunted, blowing his frustration out in a huff. "He must be awake, he must be willing, for the incantation to work."

"I know, master," Van hurried to say. "I was only making a joke."

Master?! Who is Van calling master? I was pretty sure we, as a country and the world overall, had done away with that sort of thing back in the 1800's? You know, abolished the whole, Master-Slave relationship. I guess it wasn't a relationship as much as a forced hierarchy.

"Save it for the dogs, your humor is lost on me," the man's voice cut, snapping me into focus. "Wake him."

Something hard and solid rammed into my thigh. I jolted upright screaming, "Ow!" eyes open, fully awake. I grabbed the tender, tingling spot on the outside of my leg and tried to massage the pain away.

"Wakey, wakey," sneering, Van sang.

The room was alight again, the candles picked up, their fires reignited. I expected to see a man with him, the person he was speaking to only moments before, but the room was empty. Only Van was there, standing over me, gloating like always. Maybe I had dreamed the other man up. Maybe he was never really there, his voice only a figment in my mind.

I glared up at Van, flinging my fist into his shin. "What's your problem?! Why did you kick me? And why did you bring me down here?!"

"Careful there, John," the corner of his mouth twitched, his brows narrowing in anger. "You know how I disapprove of physical violence."

"What are you going to do Van?!" I shot back, springing off the ground. "Burn me like you burned Ben?" I didn't give him a chance to answer.

I plowed into Van, shoving my chest into his, and knocked him backwards into the concrete wall. My eyes locked on target, boring into the abyss of his dark, unfeeling eyes. There we stood, at a standstill, anger pluming from our nostrils.

All of my frustration and hatred for him popped like a short circuit in a wire, sparking, catching its surroundings on fire. I could feel heat blazing underneath my finger nails, sweat pooling in the creases of my palms. And I knew at once that this was rage.

A muscle in my shoulder jerked, ready to let my fist fly the moment my brain gave the order. My arm coiled, bringing my hand infinitesimally closer to his face. Just as my fist was about to spring, a shadow crossed over my shoulder, catching my attention.