Vocalization

Horrific Home

My eyes were messed up. My sight was. There was nothing but blurred colors. And my head hurt like a migraine. How could I still be alive after this? After this? What was "this"? I was so sure something had happened but I just couldn't remember. I was in the hospital. No, I was not. This was my bedroom. My old bedroom. The one at my old house. That was why it looked like a hospital room. There was no paint on the walls, just the faded remains of it, and the only thing there was this very bed I was lying on. No bedsheets, just an old mattress and frame. The same old frame with nothing but boring simplicity. How had I gotten here? Why was I here? I looked around the room in confusion. Then I noticed it: There was a mirror. A mirror on the wall where there had previously not been one. And there was a note attached to it. Slowly but steadily, I got up from the bed and crawled towards it. It felt like crawling, albeit slow walking. My head felt so heavy. I just wanted to go back to sleep. As heavy were my feet, feeling as if I hadn't moved them in years. The cold from the floor crawled up though my soles and legs. Where had my shoes disappeared to? And what was wrong with my hand? It was aching horribly and I couldn't move my wrist at all. It felt so heavy too. Oh Lord, I thought. It has to be broken. How on earth did that happen?

Finally, I reached the mirror. But what I saw was horrifying. I saw myself, yes, I did. But I looked a mess. I had lost my precious hairpin with ist jewels, my clothes were dusty and dirt-stained and my tights a deep beige instead of their beautiful white. What had once been a beautiful white blouse and high-waisted black circle skirt was now merely in shades of gray. What had happened to me? I tried my hardest to remember, but there was nothing there. In search of an answer, I noticed a sticky note on the mirror. The letters were crude and messy, possibly written lefthandedly. What a cheap trick. It took me a while to realize what it said over all the confusion in my brain.

Welcome home.

Home. This was not my home. I had no home. On top of that, this house was due to collapse soon, why would my family have stayed here? Then, my sight caught the mirror again. I squinted. Was that... red? A dark, crimson red. My blouse was spotted with it. Along with a terrible train of thought arriving, my heart cramped. Could it be? Slowly, I moved my hand, as hurting as it was, up to my head. I touched my skin and felt a slight burn. Those weren't stains. Neither dust nor dirt hurt. This was blood. Small cuts all over my face. But there was more. I knew. I moved my shaking fingers up to my forehead, where my hair covered most of it, including my right eye. Carefully, I lifted the bangs away. Immediately, pain shot through my entire right arm. Underneath the bangs, the further I moved them to the right, the redder my skin became, until I found a red and blue spot on my head. Blood was circling all of it. Obviously, some kind of edge had pierced through my skin. I had been hit. I had been hit hard. There was no way I had fallen. No way. Never had I ever tripped and gotten this messed up. Not just once.

It was clear that I had been attacked. Kidnapped, perhaps. But why? And why would they have brought me here? I lightly shook my head, immediately stopping as it hurt. It was time to awaken my knowledge. Being an A-student had to be good for something. Think, Evelynn, I told myself. You have watched so many crime shows and read so many books. Think straight, what could be the solution here? – Step one, get out. I nodded to myself and walked towards the door. Door... Of course, the door closed behind us! Us? Who were we? They were five. Five men. Slowly but surely, it all came back, the more I tried to remember as I tried my jailbreak. The door would not budge. Window? Of course, there were wooden planks in front of it. Why wouldn't there be? Someone was trying to trap me here; they would not be that dumb. Or... would they? I walked towards the mirror again, took it off the wall. Yes, it was still there. The hole in the wall. Well... It was there, but now what? There was no good it would do me. What had once been my secret sugar stash, now looked like a mouse's home. A giant mouse's. Floating above the ground. I laid down the mirror on the bed and continued to search it. Nothing. I searched the bed. Nothing. Now, it was the window's turn. What if... I wrapped my left hand around the window's handles and opened it. Fresh, cold air blew in my face. It was unbelievably chilly outside.Or maybe that was just my head. There it was. The old storage facility in the distance. Memories of playing in it rushed through me.

But what was that? Screams. There were screams coming from it. Men, four men, were screaming their lungs out at their best. That was why the window had been closed. I was not supposed to see this, neither should I hear this. My heart started racing. I climbed onto the windowsill with one leg, the other steadily placed on the floor. Then, I pushed against the planks with all my might and both hands. My right one tried to spring out of place, to twist into an unnatural position. But all the pain was unimportant now. Someone needed help. And I knew those voices. Slowly, very slowly, the planks gave in, inching further and further away from the wall. There was a long-haired man running towards the facility. I could see it through the planks now. In his hand he had a set of pliers. Hopefully, he was there to help. Surely, he was. My mind was telling me so. With one final push, the wood sprang out of place. I bit my lip in pain and enclosed my wrist with my left hand. I could not stop. I had to go. The wood had fallen onto the roof of the little shack next to the house, making a loud noise. If I really had been kidnapped, my kidnapper would be there any minute. Now, everything came back together. I started remembering names. But what had happened was still full of confusion. Still, I fully climbed onto the window sill. Took a deep breath and jumped. My feet hit the roof, gave in, sent me falling. I rolled down the roof without being to stop for seconds of horrification. Out of pure reflex and luck, the moment I fell off the ledge, I was turned in such a way that I grabbed onto it. There I was, hanging over the ground just a few feet up by one hand and a broken hand. Albeit not willingly, I let go. I fell again, landed on my feet, fell to my hands and knees. Finally. I was safe now. From falling, that is. I was disappointed in myself for not being able to climb anymore. My acrobatic abilities had left me. Then again, my body was obviously not in the best shape. As quickly as I could, I turned around, faced the facility and ran. I could not even feel myself breathing. All I could feel was my pounding heart springing out of my chest and the pain in my limbs and head. The little stones on the way pierced into my skin, tore my tights and cut me open. I turned the corner, entered the cemented building, ran past graffiti and rubble. The screaming came closer and closer, now more resembling an argument than cries for help. In a hurry, I entered the room, saw and acted. There were four men, tied down to chairs with handcuffs. It was them. And there was Geoff in his black shirt, standing in front of a broken wall that had stocks of dynamite on it. The clock ran down. Just a few seconds now. This would be our downfall. No. My legs kept moving. I saw that he was indecisive, his pliers fast in hand, wrapped around one set of cables. In an act of pure despair, I ran up to him. I put my hand around his, around the pliers and pressed them shut.

Was that it? Were we... dead?