INTERTWINED

Chapter Fifteen

I woke up in yet another bed.

Not the hospital bed I'd used since I've been here but a real bed complete with a fluffy pillow, I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been this comfortable.

Groggily, I snuggled cozily under the covers but began to slowly wonder where I was.

I opened my eyes, looked around at the room and froze. Where was I?

I clutched the sheets in a vice-like grip, afraid I'll sink through the bed the second I let go.

I had an urge to pee but my distrust of the room kept me from moving. Was this an apology for all my suffering?

Bullshit, it just wasn't possible. And yet the heaped plate of pancaked slathered generously with syrup on the table beside me suggested otherwise.

This couldn't be real, could it? Was this a medium for a twisted new form of torture?

Not knowing any of the answers to my rapidly increasing questions was so frustrating and all thoughts of my present state of tranquil ebbed slowly away making way for my doubts and anxieties. What were those monsters going to do to me next?

Distant footsteps drew my attention to the door . People were behind those doors. They were probably going to march in at any moment and spill my blood as painfully as they could once more.

The confusion I felt and the panic slowly rising in my chest intensified the sounds I usually ignored.

The clock sounded unusually loud and the thumping of my racing heart seemed to fill the room. My breath began to match the pace of my heart and my eyes glazed over. The whistling of the curtains as the wind blew them about made me start to sweat and—

"AAAHH!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the bright pink alarm clock I didn't even realise was there rang. Out of reflex I smacked it across the room and stared wildly at it as it hadn't stopped ringing.

It made me realize that they knew I was awake thanks to the alarm clock from hell.

Someone would walk through those doors soon wielding various new torture equipment to put me through a new version of pain.

I realised I wasn't bound like before and that I could devise a weapon from the furniture and other things in the room so why wait for the pain to come?

I jumped off the bed and scoured the room for a possible weapon.

The room was so large it could've been a small apartment. On the other side of the room was a fireplace that looked like it hadn't ever been used and on the mantlepiece sat the annoyingly loud clock.

The bed I'd climbed out of was against the wall and on a platform a step higher than the rest of the room. Two armchairs with a coffee table in the middle sat facing each other in the large space between the bed and the fireplace. There were various paintings hung on the wall. They were perfect imitations of different seasons, flowers and rocks and I just didn't understand some that I saw.

I saw no reason to damage the paintings for my weapon so I broke the floor lamp instead, thinking it would be a good staff to fight with.

I wasn't sure how soon they were going to come so I pulled the coffee table from the centre of the room to the door to buy me some time and added the armchair on second thoughts.

Ignoring the shelf of books, I threw open the door to a walk-in closet. I'd thought it was the bathroom door but seeing the rows of hangers, I grabbed one anyway. Glad that it was the metal kind, I twisted it and peeled the rubber wrapping the edges with my teeth. It was sharp enough to do some damage and, really, that was all I cared about.

Finally, I pulled open the door to the bathroom. Ignoring all the shiny modern equipment, I took the swiftest shower I could while paying attention to all the wounds and dried blood. It felt good to change the underwear I'd worn for I-don't-know-how-long and replace them with fresh ones.

I replaced my worn in and bloody jeans and t-shirt and picked out a nice leather jacket. Bill had gotten rid of mine a while ago so they didn't disturb his Art of Torture. I didn't think I'd get a change of clothes anytime soon.

I placed my new weapons on the bathroom floor. They'd been careful to keep all blades away from me which was aggravating but so far I had a wooden staff, a flexible wire that used to be a hanger, the nails I'd got from breaking the drawers and a pair shoelace I could choke someone with.

I was angry, armed and ready. All I had to do now was wait.

...

A/N:
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