Beautifully Designed

Chapter 18-Little Lawyer

Scott and Elias burst out laughing as David flew through the window by Mr. Walker's strength. David sailed over the two story house, smashing his back on the stone driveway as a sickening crack played through the surround sound.

We were watching a 1996 thriller called Fear. Our parents weren't home, and the boys thought it awesome that Scott could stay over and watch R-rated movies. I duped them into letting me watch by threatening to tell that Elias went behind our parents backs to do these two things that they specifically asked us not to do; Don't have friends over, and don't be idiots.

Well, Elias already broke one of the rules, why not both?

It was the summer that I turned thirteen years old, Scott fourteen and three quarters, Elias recently turning sixteen. Back when we actually argued with one another because the toilet seat was left up, or I heard strange noises coming from his bedroom whenever a girl friend of his came over. Now that I think about it, it makes me want to vomit.

"Dude!" Elias shouted, hitting rewind over and over again to see the life-ending catapult out Nicole's window. "These special effects are such shit, it's hilarious!"

Right, and cursing was the bomb-diggety in those few years before college. Every sentence had to contain one.

"Elias stop, it's weird," I said, wincing as the crack echoed through our living room again.

Scott nudged my shoulder with his own. At that age, he was still finishing off his growth spurt, not quite yet having it under control.

"Tell ya something, Spence," He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth and continued chewing. "don't ever date a guy like him. Any guy with that kind of accent is bound to be insane."

I chuckled at Scott, watching popcorn fall to his lap in a mess. He was so cute. His brown hair was long, curling around his ears and sitting messily on his forehead. The skater phase.

"I'll tell ya somethin' else," He leaned down so only I could hear, but I never thought much of it at the time. "Mr. Hayes wouldn't throw me out your bedroom window."

* * *

My eyelids pulled up lazily, the memory drifting away with consciousness. Scott basically implied that he liked me, in the weirdest of ways, but it took five years and a kidnapping to bring the thought forth. If I would have been with Scott, maybe I wouldn't have been knocked unconscious by a strange new guy, whom I honestly knew nothing about, and woke up strapped--

I looked down, rattling my wrists against the homemade restraints. Two thick, white pieces of cloth secured my wrists to a dentist chair. Through the dusty clog of sleep that built up in my eyes, I looked down at my feet to see a similar cloth restraining them as well.

"Fantastic," I murmurred, struggling against the fabric. A few grunts and worthless kickings, I gave up the fight and heaved a breath.

My face began to throb painfully, and I closed my eyes to try and blur out the pain. There was no point. I was in a silent room, with no-one else, and I couldn't focus on anything but the pulsing. Instead, I surveyed the surroundings better.

A dark room, with cream colored walls and small table beside the dentist chair. The table contained a scalpel on a metal tray, and nothing else. Not a single object was in the room, besides those three items, and a large mirror, floor to ceiling, that stared me in the face.

My reflection was pitiful; the color of my hair looked even more dull as it was still wet and clumped in a funny way. Water still clung to my t-shirt, leaving it a soggy damp as it drooped over my front and contained at least a hundred wrinkles. My eyes looked lazy; there was a purple bruise on my right cheekbone, making the corner of my eye swell. There was more crud lodged in that eye than the other, and now I knew why.