The Monsters Inside (Formerly Extract)

Newcomer

This first part is done in the new guy's POV. I will bold the first sentence of each new POV. The only one will be VIolet's and John's, the new prisoner. Thanks!

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           I’m not sure exactly how I ended up in that situation. It had been a random abduction, made by random strangers. No signs told me it was going to be a bad day, in fact it was a great day. Summer sun lighting up the town, an invite to some hot chick’s party that night. I was shooting hoops in the driveway, just like yesterday. Practicing would make me better for next year, and I intended to be the star of the team. Two men had driven up in a black car, looking like collage pot-heads. “Hey, buddy, nice moves.” The one speaking to me had a Phillies hat on and darkened clothing. “Thanks.” I tried to be curt, show them I wasn’t interested in whatever drug they were selling. They didn’t take the hint. Maybe I should go inside till they leave... nah I’ll just look like a wuss. I remember thinking that as they sauntered toward me. They came closer. If only I had gone inside.

            The one that had spoken strode closer, stopping when he was a few feet away from me. The other guy –wearing identical clothing- leaned up against the car, nonchalant. I wasn’t buying that act for a second. “Why don’t you let us show you some of our moves?” Phillies hat smiled, showing stoner teeth. I tensed. Something... isn’t right. Gotta leave; go inside, who cares if I look like a girl? I threw my ball at them, aiming for, ahem, that spot. Things started to slow down from there, freezing like pictures in my mind. Phillies hat’s pissed off face. Turning to run. Getting tackled. A sharp pain at the back of my head. And then... nothing.

            I woke up to the ceiling swinging. No, it’s not swinging... I’m being carried. By who? What’s going on? It all came back in a sickening rush: the drive-up, the attempted escape, the abduction. I struggled, fighting as much as the bindings on my body would allow. The men -whoever they were- easily maneuvered around my attacks. A lock unlatched. The smell of blood and sweat filled my nose. I was thrown on the floor, and as I glared up at the men, I got the feeling I wasn’t alone with them. Turning, I saw a small, brown haired girl looking at me with cartoon eyes. Immediately, my rage melted, and an overwhelming urged to protect this unknown girl overtook me. Just as quickly the rage was back, especially when I realized what they had probably done to her.

            The boy was glaring at the men, but turned to face me as if just realizing I existed. The rage drained out of him, replaced by a burning intensity. Anger just as soon returned however, and he resumed glaring at the men. “Who are you? Where the hell am I?” His voice had the kind of suppressed rage of an angry jail mate to his superior. The men, not surprisingly, didn’t reply. Instead, they walked out, the click of the lock behind them as loud as a gunshot.

            I expected the boy to run to the door and bang on it, as I had that wretched first day. But he didn’t. He sat there, glaring at the door as if it were his personal enemy. Then, just as he had the first time, he slowly turned towards me. “Are you ok? Did they hurt you?” His concern had shocked me, yet I’d found myself comforted by his worried expression. I nodded, although I wasn’t quite sure which question of his I was answering. Was I okay? Of course not, anyone in my situation could see that ‘okay’ was not a word to describe my feelings. But would I be okay? Would my soul repair the tears they had torn into it? Would I sleep one night without the fear that they might come through that door. That door, that door that was my personal jailer, it imprisoned me, only unlocking to allow my attackers in...

            I didn’t realize the boy had moved till he was too close to do anything about it. I jerked, for that was the reaction those men had implanted into me. Strangers were not to be trusted. Trust was a child’s toy, a mythical word, something that only existed perfectly in fairytales. Soft eyes, reading what I had gone through, probed the dark recesses of my mind, breaking into memories I had tried to suppress. They stripped me of my skin, leaving nothing behind but the feeling of being exposed. Yet I was free, finally free...