Drip. Drip. Drip.
There was water falling into another, larger puddle of water on the floor next to my body. The drops were slashing onto my face while I tried, unsuccessfully, to drift off, and it was driving me insane. The irritation eventually crept its way into my movements, causing me to become stiff and jerky.
I had found a way to pull up my hair into a nasty ponytail by knotting a strand around the actual ponytail. I felt gross: my head was itching, actually, everywhere was itching, and I smelled. Bad. I wasn't entirely sure if Woods stank or if it was all me. He had probably had a shower sooner than I.
The problem of water hitting my body wasn't fixed if I turned on my other side. My tank top was grubby and ripped on one side, so the water would also hit there. A few hours ago, I had realized I still had earrings in. All of them. Everything else was gone, but not them. Why?
I don't know how long I managed to hold out. Eventually, the water had driven me over the edge, and I leaped up, stalked my way over to Woods, and hauled him up by the arm. He was already awake, and protesting.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" He practically yelled, and I sighed.
"Do you know how to fight? Not like, wimp fight. Real fight," I snarked, shutting his anticipated sarcastic remark about women not knowing how to fight.
He shrugged. "What's it to you?"
I almost punched him without warning. I swept my arms around the room, indicating the boring nothingness. "I am going nuts in here, and I gotta do something. I'll say it again. Do you wanna fight?"
He nodded. "Arlight then," I huffed, relieved to get the point out of him. "Let's do this."
He curled into a defensive stance, as did I. I felt some of my old fear seeping into my veins,and suddenly the scene changed. Woods was still present, but it looked as if he were surprised too. I ignored it and circled him. I remembered this place. Two or three years ago, I took a shortcut home through the Slums. I didn't know I would be jumped, but I did. Previously, I had taken self defense classes, and though no one in my class pursued them, I did. I practically became a self-defense and ring-fighting master.
Dusk was approaching quickly, and I remembered three young boys emerging from the woods and circling me. They each had a small switchblade, and I immediately began analyzing their stance.
The stance reminded me of the fight at hand. Woods was tense and ready to spring at any second, but I was loose and bouncing on the balls of my feet. Relaxing made the punch hurt less, and it made it easier to slip around your opponent. Woods' body was practically impenetrable, so I had go for the ankles or pressure points. He was eyeing my stomach, and then leaped.
I whipped around to the other side and snaked a hand down to hit the backs of his knees. I felt the tendons give out, and he fell, but got right back up. His smirk was taunting, but had no effect on me. He was trying to make me angry, which in turn, made me reckless and sloppy.
He leaped again. I dodged again and landed quick, tight punch to his side and another one to the thigh. I knew from experience it hurt like a bitch. He winced and I would detect sweat forming on his brow.
I guessed that he was probably an easy person to rile up. "Tired already, Woods? Wanna quit?" I frowned sympathetically, like I was sorry for him. He wasn't the one to self wallow in pity that others gave him. But neither was I.
He growled, and I felt the cool breeze bring up goosebumps on my pale skin. A bead of sweat dripped down my spine, cooling it. I was determined it win this.
His right fist swung up towards my face only to be blocked my the palm of my hand. It stung like a mother, but didn't flinch. I could feel my face slip into a small, half-sided smile, willing him to get in closer.
My wish was granted. He lumbered towards me, making a grab for my waist. I ducked and slithered through his arms, then as he turned, punched him in the gut as hard as I could, only tensing just before making contact. He grunted and stumbled when I landed the blow, so I took my chances and went for the kill. I punched his side again and bent him down into a headlock so his neck was constricted. His face was red and sweaty, and he finally tapped my leg three times, signaling he was done.
I let go instantly, letting him catch his breath. I blinked and wiped the sweat out of my eyes, feeling my stomach settle with ease. As my eyes opened, I was back in the dank room filled with puddles.
"Damn, Novak," Woods panted. "You fight dirty."
"Were you somewhere else?" I asked before he could comment further.
It looked like he wasn't going to tell me and be furious. "I was in an abandoned warehouse that me and my friends used to hang out in. You?"
I hesitated to tell him, but finally decided to spill it. "I was in the Slums." He looked confused, so I added, "In East Country sector." Woods looked like he was going to say something rude, so I cut him off. "I took a shortcut home, and was mugged by three guys."
Woods whistled. "That was a happy memory?"
I narrowed my eyes. "No, it just reminded me of home."
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. Two of the three guys didn't make it out. I felt my eyes widen in sudden realization because that night, Stella had shown up. And she had a knife that night. She had known I was outnumbered and in danger. She stabbed one and threw me the knife, and I stabbed another. The other ran.
I could still taste the blood in the air and on my hands. It felt as if the air had chilled twenty degrees. Woods must have noticed the change in atmosphere, but I cut him off with a strong gesture of my hand. He shut his mouth with a snap and went to sit in a corner, which sounded like he was in timeout, but he wasn't really.
Now I knew why Stella had been taken. But if she had been taken, I should have too, and I wasn't in the same place as her. So maybe she was caught and I wasn't because it was drilled into out heads that murder, whether voluntary or involuntary, was punishable by life in prison, and from what I had experienced, torture a whole lot worse than this.
"Shit," I mumbled. "Shit, shit, shit! Oh, no no no, this is bad."
Drip. Drip. Drip.
YOU ARE READING
Retribution
Teen FictionSeventeen-year old Ruby Novak was taken by Snatchers. She doesn't know where she is or why she's there. After all, she knows she didn't do anything sinful. She was always the good girl, the one who followed the rules. Snatchers only take the people...