Black Wings

Chapter 2: Order of the Numerous Pink Ducks (Part 1)

"Good morning, murderer."

I jerked out of the bed so fast that I fell off. "What the-"

"If you are planning to utter foul words in my presence, then I do not think you should finish that statement, Lilian."

"What the flip-flop," I deadpanned. I don't think I've ever used the actual f-word in my life, and I wasn't about to start now- not because McCultson told me to.

Who the hell did this guy think he was anyways? Ordering me around like I was actually going to listen. Please. Give me a break. I picked myself up off the floor muttering to myself about macho idiots with wings.

Said macho idiot didn't take my bait. He just gave me a horribly cruel smile that sent a shiver down my spine and shut me right up.

"Who are you?" I asked warily. "What does your cult want from me? And where the hell am I?"

A took a quick glance around, just to get the lay of the land. I really didn't intend to take my eyes off the enemy for more than two seconds, but can you blame me for gaping at the garishly hot pink room for a solid two minutes? I could have stared for hours- there was so much to take in. The lavish crushed velvet hot pink sofa was the home of numerous hot pink pillows with hearts on them. The bed I'd fallen from had an obnoxiously furry hot pink comforter draped across it. The hot pink dresser with hot pink jeweled knobs had a mirror that was totally painted over with hot pink paint. Most horrifying of all were the scary amount of framed duck photos. They were in every size possible, and all the ducks had hot pink feathers. One enormous duck with a gilded hot pink frame stared right at me from the entire wall it covered. Was I hallucinating the sad quacking noises?

I finally managed to rip my eyes away from the duck's, and met my kidnapper's bright green ones instead. He was almost a welcome sight, compared to the pink ducks. I don't think he even blinked once during my perusal of his psychotic torture chamber.

"You..." It took me a couple more seconds to turn my racing thoughts into some semblance of a coherent sentence. "Pink? It's... pink. Ducks? The ducks are pink?"

There was another long pause, where neither of us said a thing, and he still didn't blink. I didn't blink either, but that was because I was terrified.

"Are you okay?" I managed to ask him. Past the fear for myself, I was genuinely concerned about his well being. The poor thing really was psychotic. He was probably suffering a mental breakdown from his cult shenanigans, and I was just collateral.

Finally, finally he blinked. And then he started to laugh at me- a low laugh that surprised me with how much pain there was in it. "Oh, how you seek to fool me so. I'd almost believe it, if I didn't know what a manipulator you are. Please, Lilian. If you ever, even once in your cold, black heart, cared for your sister, just tell me where she is."

"I'm sorry," I sputtered, completely forgetting about the abnormal setting I was in. "When did I suddenly gain a family member? It's just me and my brother, Culty Boy."

He didn't even blink at my nickname. "Please, Lilian. She needn't suffer because I went against you. She's innocent in this mess. She even fought against the Council, in your favor. She refused to let them rehabilitate you." He drew closer and closer to me with every word, so I hardly paid attention to what he said. I was more concerned with backing up very far away from him. When the back of my legs hit the side of the hot pink bed frame, and Saint Culty kept coming closer, I knew I was in trouble.

"Listen, I don't-" I didn't even know what I was going to say, but I was cut off when his large, meaty hands wrapped all the way around my throat and lifted me straight up in the air.

"TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!" he screamed while shaking me like a rag doll. "TELL ME! Where is my darling? My sweet Lilith? TELL ME!"

I was going to die. I was already injured from all his door bashing, and now my brain was getting sloshed around in my own head, and I had whiplash for sure. I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. That stupid duck wall was the only thing in my field of vision. I was literally going to die.

"Kick him," the voice whispered. "Claw his eyes out. Eat his soul. End him."

Gee, thanks, Voice. It's not like I wasn't already doing that- sans the eating soul part. Got any other advice?

"Go limp. Then attack!" Voice responded.

It actually wasn't bad advice for once. Most of Voice's usual wisdom involved abnormally graphic and unnecessary violence. I did as she told and flopped like a sack of potatoes, which wasn't that difficult considering that I'd been deprived of oxygen for a whole minute now.

He still shook me for another couple seconds before realizing that I was practically dead, and then he threw me onto the bed. The only reason I didn't bounce was because his mattress was rock hard. Ouch.

I fought hard to maintain the sack of potatoes ruse, but I needed air now. I gasped for breath like a fish out of water, and waited for his next move. When it didn't come, I began to speak in a croaky voice.

"Please, I'm sorry. I don't know where, uh, Lilac is. I'm sorry. Don't hurt me."

"Lilith," he growled. "Your sister's name is Lilith. My wife's name is Lilith." Wasn't that a demon's name? Wait- he thought he was my brother in law?!

He started towards me again, and I couldn't help it. I curled into a little ball like an armadillo, and begged for my life. "Oh my gosh, please don't kill me. I didn't even pick a college yet. Please, please, please-"

I stopped when I realized he wasn't coming after me anymore. He was rooted to the hot pink carpet, staring at me in utter shock. "Begging? My God," he murmured softly. "You really aren't acting. The rehabilitation worked."