Revenge

Chapter 12: Unchallenged

Chapter 12: Unchallenged

If the next bird to pass has black on it, then I'm going to get out of here.

I stare out the window of my hospital room window, thoughts of escape swarming into my mind. Each escape plan though, I crush it like a bug, the constant pain in my arm from where the tracker was injected into me, giving me constant reminders of how impossible escape is going to be.

I wait and wait for a bird to pass, but none do. What is that supposed to mean?

I find it funny how revenge inspires revenge. You take vengeance out on someone after they've wronged you, but when you cross the line, the fire that is revenge becomes so large, so violent that no one can control what happens next.

I should write that down somewhere... Would they spaz if I asked for a pen and paper? Probably.

I stand slowly, stretching out my stiff back. I haven't moved off the ground for a couple hours, I feel as if all hope is lost, but it's still lingering in the air. I turn to face the camera in the sheet of glass, the red light still flashing.

If Harold comes in, I'll escape...

If its Nate's mom, I won't...

I start waving my hands above my head like I'm at a concert. Jolts of pain dance throughout my body, reminding me of all the torturous moments that have occurred in this hellhole. Almost instantly, I hear the click of the door unlocking. I bite my lip, wondering who it is. My hands drop to my sides in frustration, as Trinity walks in. Why, why, why, why!

"What do you want?" She asks, playing with one of her snake bite piercings.

"Can I have like, a pen and paper please? I even used my manors," I reply, holding back a snarl. She studies me a moment.

"How do we know you won't stab us, hmm?" She questions.

"Yes, because I'm going to take on you armed freaks with a pen," I say sarcastically.

"I'll discuss it with my superiors," Trinity answers professionally. Gag. She turns around and tromps out of the room. I fall onto the bed, and run my hands along the side of mattress, feeling the slight poke of the piece of glass I had broken off the tea cup. I feel my stomach grumble from lack of food. They gave me food earlier, but it was just bread and a plastic cup of milk. I might as well be in a prison. And the thing is, I haven't even done anything... Not yet anyway.

Before I even know it, I slowly drift off into sleep, awakening nightmares beyond my wildest fears. When I finally wake, my body is draped in a thick layer of sweat.

I stare up at the dark ceiling, tears coming to my eyes. The darkness doesn't scare me anymore, it's what's in the dark that's so terrifying, especially now.

Torturous thoughts spark up in my mind. Harold killed his son, Nate, without a thought. What will he do to me? He could be lingering in the shadows of this room, ready to kill me at any moment. I mean, the only two people, according to Trinity, that wanted me alive, were Trinity and Nate. Nate's dead, and Trinity's a bitch that I can't seem to figure out. This family is one big, fucked up nuclear bomb that can literally explode at any given moment. Harold's a keen example of that.

I turn over on the uncomfortable bed and see something on my bedside table. The moonlight shining through the window lights up a leather covered book on the table. I reach for it, groaning in pain at my abrupt movement. I breathe in the scent of the book, being brought back to school. I miss school. I miss my teachers. I miss my desks. I miss my locker. Hell I even miss the washrooms at school. School may have been a battleground, but nothing I could have done there could have prepared me for this.

I flip through the pages of the book, till I reach the last page. This whole book is blank. Is it a journal? Had this heartless family actually given me a journal? Does that mean I'm going to be around for a long time? I don't know whether to be relieved that they're not going to kill me, or to be terrified that I'm going to be stuck here.

I scan the table and see a pen literally chained to the bed. If I'm ever going to attempt to escape again, it'll be with the glass in between the mattresses not a fricken pen. I press the pen to the paper, and think. I should write a quote... But on what?

It pops into my almost instantly. I scrawl the word, "Darkness", on the top of the page.

I hear a muffled cough echo through the room. I snap into a sitting position and stare across the dark room. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and goosebumps dart up my arms.

"Hello?" I whimper, my voice small, revealing how vulnerable I am.

I see a figure move by the toilet across the room. My breaths get caught in my throat.

"Did you have a nightmare, sweetie?" A wicked voice replies, his voice echoing around the room. I know who it is instantly. Harold.

"What are you doing in here?" I ask, my voice thick with terror.

"Well I haven't spoken to you about our little secret," he whispers, stepping closer.

"What? That you killed your own son?" I spit, cowering against the wall.

"Must you stick with that lie, sweetie? You're the one who killed him," he says simply.

"I'm not the one who pulled the trigger," I challenge.

"Wow, after months of stalking you, I had it all wrong," he whispers, sitting on the edge of the bed. Months of stalking... "I had you down as a defenceless spoiled brat, but how wrong I was. You're a lot stronger than I made you out to be. I applaud you for your strength, but it's useless. It'll only get you killed."

"Are you going to kill me like you killed Nate? Or are you going to try something a little more creative?" I hiss, leaning forward.

"Am I that satanic in your eyes?" He questions, putting a finger on his chin.

"No, you're much worse than satanic," I counter.

"See what I mean? We started this conversation and you were weak, now you're verbally attacking me. We made you stronger, you should be thanking me," he chuckles hoarsely.

"I will never thank you, and I won't have to when I get out of here," I reply, clenching the bed sheet tightly in my hands.

"Let's say you were to escape again, you go to the police, a life-sentence behind bars is what we'd get, and you'd still be living with your monster of a father," he says smoothly.

"When I escape, I'm not turning you into the police," I answer, licking my lips.

"Huh?"

"Look what you've done to your family! You turned them all into sociopaths! You of all of them deserve to pay the price, life behind bars just wouldn't come close to what you deserve." I shift on the bed, crossing my legs, and glaring at the dark pits of Harold's eyes.

"Here you are judging us in your little mind about how we're getting revenge, when you're thinking of retaliating against us already. You're a hypocrite, Catherine Weiver," he hisses, standing and walking towards the door. I cringe at my last name. It was my mothers and my fathers. Both of which can't help me.

"How unfortunate for you!" I shout after him. He continues walking and slides a keycard into a slot I hadn't seen before. I hear the click of the door unlocking.

"I have been wondering something," Harold says, turning. "How did you escape? The cameras went out for an hour, and when we were hunting you, we found you outside. How did you escape?"

"I'll never tell you," I answer, confidently. He smiles evilly, then slams the door behind him. I jump back to the journal, and press my pen to the paper. I start writing furiously. The quote kind of formed itself as I talked to Harold. When I finish, I drop the pen and look down at the quote.

Darkness comsumes all. The living, the dead, the pretty, and the ugly. But, in the end when nothing is left, darkness will then comsume itself.