Kismet: The Fire Within

Chapter 7 (editing)

I wake up with sweat drenching my body. I am heaving in deep breathes. Itches tingle all over me. It as if hundreds of wire brushes are rubbing my skin. My armpits are on fire. I don't resist the the urge to drag my fingernails inside them. I throw the covers off me. My eyes become watery from by the sunlight that falls from the skylight above.

 My dream sent me to a dark room. I was tied to a pole. I remember the restraints around my wrist digging into my skin ripping it apart as I tried to wriggle free. Fists ploughed into my abdomen. Feet stomped on my legs. His sick laugh, muffled with spit, echoing in my ear. It was a memory of home; well what it use to be.

 The torturous tavern in which I once resided in is likely to be no more by today. I am hoping that the efforts of an estranged relative will set me free. If not, a fate worse than death may await me. If my dreams is sign of what to come perhaps I better off dead.

 My ears perk up. I wipe my hands to relieve my gushing eyes. There are foot steps slapping against the floor. The surface sounds sturdy and made from solid stone material . It stirs me to I sit up. I find myself in a stark room: grey walls, little sunlight and concrete floors. A setting like this in only place of the city; The Recovery.

 I have been here once before when I broke my arm after I had "slipped"'. The doctor didn't say much. He just winked at my parents and said "these accidents happen all the time". For six weeks my arm was in a binder.

 Funnily, the binder actually was a blessing in disguise. Like all binders, it made my muscles double it's growth rate. My arm became stronger and had more definition than before. It came to good use when I started to fight.

 The best part of those six weeks was that The Hollands didn't touch me once. My life was volcanic bliss; the upmost peak of happiness. It was not until three days after my binder came off they found a reason to hit me again. I had forgotten to lock the door the night before.

 But even till this day I swear I did. When I look back on it now. My break from my beatings was the false sense of security they wanted me have. The control always existed with them. I kidded myself in believing in was not longer the case.

 The foot steps become louder. A shadow looms in the doorway. it's followed by a friendly face who greets me with a beautiful smile.

 It's Violet though her hair appears to be much curlier than I recall.

  "Good to see you up hun, the heat of Adranus certainly scorched you today."

 "Heck what is one more tally to me."
 I snort shaking my head at my bedsheets. The the clinical colour of white is dotted with faded pink and yellow stains. I hate to know who they'd belonged to. I am guessing none suffered from a Glumut dart.

 I sense Violet move closer towards me. I look up as her hand rests on my back. I twinge, rolling my shoulder. I notice there's no evidence of my wound. The handiwork of Nurse D'Angelo is quite impressive.

 "I quite happy with it. It should be fine fully functional in a day or two."

 "It's a miracle what modern medicine can do today. Yet, our world has not progressed from the mistakes of the past."

 "However one would say that in order for humanity to continue it's very course. Lambs must potentially be lead to slaughter."

 Violet purses her lips and darts her eyes away from me. She turns around facing a person who I have never seen before. A knot starts to develop in my stomach. My mouth becomes absent of saliva. Is it who I anticipate?

 A long dark beard hangs from his pinched face. A scar above his left cheek leads to squinted emeralds. He's a lanky man, who arches over like a boughed tree. His complexion tells the tales of hours in the searing sun. He slumps on the doorway in casual fashion.