Discontinued

Chapter 4

It's been a week since I've been tied to this pole like an animal. And every day it's the same thing. The old lady brings me stale porridge in the morning. I can only manage a few bites before my stomach starts to recoil in disgust. She doesn't meet my eyes keeping her gaze stuck to the ground instead. This doesn't bother me one bit, if I see that disgusting smile on her wrinkled face I'll throw her with her shit porridge. While im busy eating the porridge that's when things wake up around here, the sun rays start to touch the earth in a series of dotted little lines peaking through the trees branches. The planet awakens all at once, like an ocestra each element knowing when to yell out their greeting. The sun rays are first, red and bright orange meet the sky mixed with purple clouds, it's beautiful, breathtaking. Next it's the wind whistling it's own tune through the clearing and the huts. Always present, to scared to miss anything. The flowers turn their faces up towards the sun coming out of hiding from the bushes that supports and surrounds them. The birds are next also seeking to be heard. One big symphony.

They meet for breakfast every morning in the middle of the clearing by the huge bond fire. They meaning them, the people who took us, no not took. Stole. I just call them they because i still do not know what they are. Or where they came from. I don't really care, my main goal is to get Grace and get the hell away from them. Fast.

The fire in the middle of the clearing burns through the whole day and night. They don't let the fire die ever , one of them looks after it during the day and at night time they switch. They take turns even the females help with this. After breakfast most go down to the lake or into the forest doing god knows what. They don't greet me, some sneer and snarl at me a few elderly females and males even spit at me and I spit right back at them. Even going as far as throwing one male with my porridge bowl, the clay scattering into pieces against his shaven head.

"Bikkja" He yelled rubbing the spot where the bowl hit before taking a step towards me pointing his finger in my face. A growl from my kidnapper has him shrinking back so fast before speed walking away not looking back once. Toraq watches me for a few minutes, it's the same thing everyday they spit at me I spit back. They call me names Bikkja : bitch. I know this word well. I call them names right back, sometimes even throwing anything I could get my hands on. A week of this and I only have a little brown patch left, no grass, no rocks not even a stray leave chooses to enter my prisoned area. He watches me each day, him, he. Whatever he is. His eyes shining purple glowing like rubies under a florescent light and then flashing black if I were to blink I would have missed it. He watches my face never straying below my neck line, searching for something or mabey it's just because I must look a filthy mess. He watches me and I watch him back. Something about him is not right. He intrigues me. But at the same time scares me. My body yearns to be close to him but he always manages to keep his distance. He feels familiar and strange at the same time. I feel his eyes on me most of the day as they pass by extremely slow. I know he watches me by the way my skin prickles and my hair stand up. The invisible electricity he carries around with him has a way of reaching out to me and it almost feels as if somethings touching me, just a light whisper across my skin. Almost touching but not quite, he pulls it back just before I can feel it on my skin. A constant tease or reminder that he is in fact there.

At noon I'm awarded with a pieces of corn bread, it's not horrible but it's dry and I usually need more than two glasses of water to help keep it down. I eat the bread because I know they choose to end their day at the last possible second stretching out each minute to the max. By the time they get together for supper I'm already half asleep. Again I'm thrown a piece of corn bread, just the bread never the meat, the smell of the savory meal has come to haunt me. My mouth waters at the sight of them Feasting, chewing with open mouths, talking with their mouths full and rubbing their oily hands on the cloth that they wear. They drink and eat for what feels like hours. The more they drink the wilder and louder they get. It's disgusting, it's barbaric. The sight of them makes my skin crawl and I usually choose to turn my back to them, hugging the wooden pole for support resting my head on my knees. Sleep doesn't come easily anymore, my body in constant pain and aches. I've never had to sleep sitting up before. And I'm not sure how much longer I can stand it. The pain in my ribs is still there. It's not as bad as before but it still hurts if I breath too deeply.