Revenge

Chapter 8: Unraveling

Chapter 8: Unraveling

I feel my heart thumping quickly against my chest, as I stare forward. I sit on the bed, knees brought to my chest, and my back to the wall facing the room before me. The moonlight from outside cascades dark shadows from the lines on the window. I try calming my breathing, but the darkness stares back at me like a black hole waiting to take me into a dark, threatening abyss. Sweat coats my body as I continue to shake uncontrollably. My eyes flick constantly to the flashing red light of the camera behind the sheet of glass. Someone is watching me. Someone is studying me. Someone tried to rape me. Someone carved into my skin, I'm not a pumpkin.

I hear a faint creak. I push my back flat against the wall, my lip quivering. The door opens slowly revealing a small bit of light before the door closes again, cutting the world back into darkness. "Who's there!" I demand, my voice cracking. I hear skittering footsteps as someone makes their way to my bed. I see his shadow pass the windows, closer and closer to me.

"It's just me, Nate," a soft voice says, sitting on the opposite end of the bed. I can just make out the silhouette of his body.

"You know I had a future, right?" I blurt. I can tell he's looking at me, but I can't tell his expression.

"Doing what?" He asks, a little surprised.

"I wanted to become a teacher," I whisper. I just said the first job choice that came to mind... I'm still deciding... Not that I should anymore.

"Oh, I'm sorry." My head jerks sideways to face him.

"No you're not! You fuckers stole me from my life! And for what! So you can play Ring-Around-The-Hospital with me, slip drugs in my tea, and try to rape me?" I snap, my eyes blurring with tears. It's not like I can see anyway...

"You really have no idea what's going on here, do you?" He questions. I bite my bottom lip, and squeeze my hands into fists to keep myself from lunging myself at him. I feel the anger surge through my body like an electromagnetic field.

"I know nothing!" I scream. Nate stands slowly.

"You should get some rest," he mumbles. I jump up and grab his arm.

"Tell me why I'm here!"

"It's not my place," he whispers in an angered tone. He tries to walk off but I tighten my grip on his arm.

"Why am I here!" I scream at the top of my lungs. It takes a minute for my brain to catch up with what happens next. Nate punches me, I fall, screaming in pain and frustration at him.

"I'll bring you some sleeping pills," he hisses, in an aggressive voice. He narrows his eyes on me, then turns and walks out the door.

I jump up and grab the edges of the side table, sending it spiralling out into the middle of the room. I hear the screams escaping my mouth, but I don't feel them. I rip out a drawer out of the side table and launch it at the bars in front of the window. It crumbles into pieces on impact. I fall to my knees, screaming at the top of my lungs.

Something flutters into view out of the corner of my eye. I turn slightly and see three photos all facing the ground. I crawl over and pick them up cautiously, as if they could explode at the slightest touch. I put the photos in the moonlight so I can see them. I turn the first one over and see a picture of me, talking to my friends in the field of my school. They've been watching me for a while, haven't they?

I turn the second photo over, and see a photo of a dead body. I cringe at the sight. It's my mothers body. Why would these people have this? Where in the Hell could they get these anyway?

I turn over the last picture and stare at it carefully. It's a picture of my father speaking to a girl my age in an alleyway by Starbucks. The girls face is slightly covered by a scarf wrapped around her neck. My scarf.

Another thing that's very noticeable, is the bright red X crossed over my fathers face of the photo. My mind races to conclusions. These people have been watching my family. Why? Did they have something against my father?

I stare down at my arm. The word REVENGE, still really visible on my arm, especially in the dark. Was this so called "revenge" against me? My mother? My family? Or the obvious wonder here? My father.

*.*.*

My eyes flutter open. I'm staring at the still demolished room. My back lay against the wall with the camera, at least the camera can't see me here.

I don't even remember falling asleep. The last thing I remember is slamming my fists against the sheet of glass demanding answers. I hear a loud click. I snap my head to the right, facing the opening door. I jump to my feet. Harold stands there, a tray of food in his hands.

"Hungry?" He asks innocently. He walks slowly over to me. He stops inches from me, looking around the room. "I see you're making yourself at home." I feel shivers run up my spine as the memory of yesterday in the bathroom sparks up in my hand. The anger from last night quickly returns. I grab the edge of the tray forcefully. The smell of French toast wafts to my nose, making my stomach growl. I dont dare look down at the tray. I dump the tray sideways, knocking all the food, plates, and the tea onto the ground. The glass plate and tea cup shatter against the tiled ground. I rip the tray from his grasp and smack him in the side of the head with it.

"I'll starve before I ever except food from you," I whisper, clutching the tray so tight my knuckles change to a pale white. He looks up at me, an angered expression on his face. It's getting less and less meaningful. I don't back down. My face begins to throb where Nate had punched me last night.

"You just don't seem to get it!" He roars. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me into a barred window. I quickly gain my balance and face him.

"You'll have to push me harder than that," I counter. He takes a step toward me, his face filling with an angry red. Nate steps into view and steps between us.

"Okay, just stop," he tells us. I think of smacking him over the head with the tray for punching me.

"Why, is this not enough violence for you?" I demand. He turns to me, an icy expression on his face. A sneer creeps across his lips.

"The first stage starts soon. You're going to die in here, bitch," he hisses.

"Why? Because of something my father did to you? You want to get revenge against him, right? And to do that, you're just going to kill me off? You're all monsters." I feel tears prickling my eyes, then trailing down my cheeks. "Nothing my father could have done makes it right for you to do this to me!" I scream, tears reaching my chapped lips.

"That's debatable," Nate mutters. I stomp my foot and swing the tray at the wall. It clangs loudly throughout the room. I stomp over to the bed and plunk down.

"Fine," I murmur. "I'll be waiting here until you psychos are ready to kill me."

Harold smiles. Nate looks away. I grab the edge of the mattress and squeeze as hard as I can, trying to confine my soon-to-be outburst. "You can leave now," I say into my shoulder. I close my eyes, count to a hundred, and open my eyes again. The only trace that they were ever here is the pile of food on the ground and the tray.