blue

III

The awful smell of cigarette smoke caused me to slowly wake up. I pushed myself off the ground, causing my back to crack, and sat upright.

I looked around. Where was I?

I was sitting in gravel; the only thing visible. The room was dim, but lit enough for me to see the ground. It seemed as if I was in a tunnel. I couldn't see the light at the end, but it must have been what made me able to see. I felt around the sides of wherever I was. They were round and made of cool cement.

"Hello?"

My voice echoed through the walls of the tunnel.
I waited for a response, but nothing came. I sat in silence for a few moments more until I heard quiet footsteps and what sounded like shallow breathing.

"Who's there?" I breathed.
No response.

"I said, who's there?" I was yelling now. The echo caused a painful ringing in my sensitive ears.

The breaths and footsteps I was able to hear moments ago were only coming closer. Not only could I hear them, but I began to physically feel the presence of someone. My conscience was telling me that this person was not a friendly one.

The sounds stopped for a short moment and I was left in silence, once again. There was a gash on my left arm that I didn't notice earlier. I was too numbingly cold to feel any pain, but I was fairly positive it would require a few stitches. The hospital would be the first place I headed when I got myself out of this mess.
I reached to feel my face, and as my fingertips pressed into my rosy cheeks I felt nothing. I let them trail down my neck, and it sent a shot of pain through my body.

I could feel rope burn marks engraved into my neck.

A sudden chill was sent down my spine and it most definitely was not caused by the breeze.
Was I kidnapped?

The epiphany was most likely accurate, but I couldn't let myself think about that now because all I could hear was the breaths starting again; rising and falling in time with the footsteps crunching on the gravel.
I shuddered. Judging by the red welts on neck and arm, whoever did this had a strong grip and there was no way I would ever be able to fight them on my own.

"Melia," a voice belonging to a stern man called from around the corner.

"How do you know my name?" I spat back.

The face revealed from around the corner shocked me beyond belief.
I knew I recognized it.
I felt my face lose all colour and turn completely white. All senses left my body and I became so angry I lost all control of my actions.  I started screaming at him, my words full of the rage he deserved to have launched at him.

"How dare you think you have the right to come back! Not only did you come back here but you kidnapped me! Your own daughter."
I was disgusted.

John, my "father", was now stood directly in front of me. My body was trembling in fear. I didn't want any new memories of him.
"I wanted to see my daughter, what's so bad about that?" he snickered.

"I'm not your daughter," I sputtered. It was true. I was not his daughter. No way I would give myself the awful title of 'John McMillan's daughter.' I shook my head at the fact that he really thought he was my  father.

He ignored the comment and curled his hand into a fist and swang at me with full power. Blood rushed through my head as memories of nights just like these were dug to the surface of my brain. Except this time, I didn't try to stop him. I allowed him to throw every hit, every punch. It wasn't worth fighting.

Maybe, I even deserved it.