Chapter eight.
3rd person
The next two years went by as a blur. The police had found a girl under the parents description, curled up in a ball underneath a slide, covered in a sheet of snow. She was missing for a week and five days. They had found her ID on her. As well, a phone with a dead battery. Her fist was pretty infected. There were lots of cuts and a lot of dried blood around her and on her. She had dried mascara that was smudged into the pores of her face. Her eyes were red and puffy. She looked scared. Her eyes would dart back and forth as if someone was going to hurt her. She screamed when they first found her. Yelling, saying, whispering, "I hate you." She thrashed and scratched. She acted as if she were a wild horse and that we were trying to brake her. They noticed that she kept rubbing her ring finger. There was not much skin left on the bone. Her skin was ice cold. The paramedics were surprised to see that she wasn't frost bitten. The hardest part of all, was to get her out from underneath the slide. Her parents called to her. But she wouldn't respond. She would just stare past them as if she were in a trance. The only time she did reply was when someone would approach her and she would scream and scratch. They gave her food and water and hot chocolate to keep her warm. They even started a fire, which sent her into frantic mode. She kicked snow at it until it was finally put out. She would keep murmuring over and over again, "How could you?" and "Blue". It took a full two days to finally get her out of there. The policeman blocked off the perimeter, the paramedics camped out, along with the police and her parents. The day that she came out was the day she came out of her dark side. It was as if everything going on disappeared. Her parents had made a call to Afghanistan. They said it was an emergency and that they must speak with Trevor immediately. They got a hold with him in the next few hours. They needed no explanation. All the said was, "It's Clair." he hung up and got on a plane.
Trevor's POV
I was leading a group of trainee soldiers out into the practice mine field, teaching them that if you stepped in the wrong spot a puff of smoke would come out of the ground. The first person was a young man about eighteen. Had a scar in his left eyebrow and rarely smiled. He made one step and a puff of red smoke seeped out of the ground. I yelled in a commanders voice, "You just got us all killed Duncan. Try harder next time!" I saw from a distance, a boy running at a fast pace coming towards the group. He had a yellow piece of fabric sewn to his hat marking him as a messenger. He ignored, as he ran, puffs of smoke coming up out of the ground at every step he took. He was obviously in a hurry. He stopped right. In front of me and yelled with his arms straight at his sides, "Permission to deliver a message commander!" I answered with a nod. "Sere, you have received an urgent call from your parents from the US." he paused trying to catch his breath, and then continued, "All they said to tell you was, 'It's Clair.'"
I dismissed the class and sprinted to the airport. My captain saw me coming and met me half way. "There is something going on with Clair. Can I go home?" the captain knew how much I cared for my younger sister so he sent me on a one way trip to Seattle, Washington. My home town.
I stepped quietly as I neared the gray slide. The thin layer of snow crunching underneath my feet. As I got closer, I heard whimpering. I caught a few words, but I most frequently heard the word "blue". I got closer and I saw her for the first time in almost eight years. Her hair was in a mop. She was covered in mud and she was wet. There were traces of mascara spread across her face. And a few tears were coming from her eyes. She held her knees close, rolling back and forth. She looked so sad. That was the only way to describe it. Her index finger and her thumb on her right hand, were slowly moving back and forth on her ring finger. Her skin was definitely wearing off. Her right hand knuckles were covered in dried blood. Whoever did this to her, was going to pay. I stepped closer. We were now at least five feet away from each other. I bent down so I wouldn't bang my head. She noticed someone coming closer. She began fidgeting and was beginning to make soft, but louder than before, whimpers. I knelt down on my knees and inched my way closer. I felt as if I were back in Afghanistan, but with no gun. It felt like I was creeping through the tall grass, trying to stay hidden and not provoke the enemy. But this was no war. This was not Afghanistan. None of my enemies are here. This is my sister who is broken hearted and depressed. I inched my way closer on my hands and knees, the snow soaking into my camouflage pants. She knew that someone was trying to come close to her but what she didn't know was that it was her twenty-five year old brother. Who left his favorite calling to come comfort her and rescue her from her pain. I was about two feet away when she started the real screaming. I jumped at her, knowing that I must get to her before she could slash out and kick. I wrapped my arms around her and my legs too, holding her in a lock embrace. She wriggled, but I was a lot stronger, being built up from the long harsh training that comes with joining the army. I whispered for her to shush, "Its me. Sh.... I love you Clair bear. Its me Trever." her eyes snapped open. She looked me straight in the eyes. Her eyes welled up with tears. They streamed down her face. She relaxed. I allowed her to turn around and she hurried her face into my chest. Soft sobs and chokes came from her. It brought tears to my eyes just seeing her this way. We sat there for at least an hour before she calmed. Down quite a bit. I started to pull away, but she gripped my shirt and wouldn't let go. More whimpers escaped her lips. "I'm not leaving Clairaline." I held her close and picked her up in my arms. Bending low, I carried her out from under the slide. I gave everyone around me to not come near us. I motioned for a paramedic to bring me materials to fix up her wounds. I cleaned and sterilized her right wounded hand; a d wrapped her ring finger in a gauze wrapping. I cleaned up her face and gave her some food and drink. I wrapped her in a warm blanket and carried her to an ambulance. Everyone was quiet. I held her in my arms as we got closer to the hospital. It took all my strength to keep my anger in.
I walked out of the hospital room. She had fallen asleep. "Lets go find this cheater...." Chris stood up, right when I walked out. I couldn't hold my anger in anymore. I lunged at Chris.
