By Jessica-Ken:
A beeping noise which sounded not like music to my ears brought me back to life. I laid motionless with firm hands pressing down on me and white light illuminating my face.
The lady who I’d thought was my sister turned out the opposite. She was standing with a maniacal smile seated upon her face, the scissors in her hand, and the utility knife in the other glistening, ready to serve their purpose. I didn’t need anyone telling me it wasn’t Anita standing there. But the question was, “Who is it that seeks revenge?”
I know I had to live. I needed to live! Shaking vigorously; heart racing faster than usual; bed creaking in agreement with the exerted force; hands I couldn’t see holding me tight-stuck, I was. I was going to be slain for something I knew not. Is this really my end? Has it come at last? Teardrops enveloped my cheeks.
Silence begot the once peaceful night; the night so full of life and crickets sounds. From quiet slumber to savage den. I watched in terror, the utility knife drawing closer as its piercing sides cut through my skin and screams engulfed by laughter enveloped nighttime. I gasped for air, eyeballs rolling; the stinging pain I felt becoming one I couldn’t bear. Tortured by my flesh and blood, I drowned in my own tears. I could hear heavy footsteps; our unwelcome visitor, one I couldn’t see. I was getting dizzy from the blood loss, and weary from not having eaten for days, but I tried not to give up-at least not yet.
Struggling to keep swollen, weak eyes open, I could make out a faint image walking towards where I laid, as I gasped with little strength, giving in to the voice that kept telling me to give up.
If this was a dream, I knew not. All I wanted was to be wide awake again; to be free from this horrible nightmare.
Lying helplessly still like a lamb about to be slain, I winced and groaned; restless ears twitching; and glaring light bulbs flickering as the whole place went dark.
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“You really are sweaty, you know that, right?” a soft touch woke me as I jerked up, frightened. “Whoa-whoa! Easy there, shaky. What’s got your skin hairs up?” the way his lips moved captivated me as I stared into dreamy gray-blue eyes. Making out some of his words wasn’t hard, but figuring out where I was, and how I had gotten there got my skin hairs up the more.
How-my lips froze with the sudden reminder that I couldn’t talk.
“How are you feeling?” his lips moved as a smile quickly took over.
He looked familiar, I thought; pretty muscular and hot… >>> my inner voice spoke.
“He… llo,”
A smile graced my lips, but then it disappeared. He must think I’m crazy. I’m not crazy, I thought with a blush, trying not to make eye contact with him.
He looked at me in a way I interpreted to be, “she’s-an-odd-looking-girl”, and let go of my hand. All this time he’s been holding my hand and I never even noticed. I so wanted his touch to linger, and wished I could at least communicate with him and ask when and how I had gotten there.
I tried remembering what had happened, but all effort remained vague. With head throbbing as though hit with something heavy and lips quivering, I gave the room a thorough scan; its bright floors and white stain-free walls making it spotless. It looked not so big, not so small, but was something I knew to be perfect. A big black shoebox laid carelessly on the floor, not ignored, and a mirror hanged on one side of the wall, alongside posters of different artistes.
Some fan!
There was something about this guy I wanted to know-why he looked so familiar-and why he had brought me here instead. He drew closer to me as though he had read my mind, and adjusted the pillow under my head.
Isn’t he charming? My inner voice spoke again, and I shut it up, with eyes rolling once more for a paper and pen as I caught sight of them on the bed stool at the foot of the bed.
Mm-mmm-I pointed happily, praying he’d understand.
“What’s that?” he asked as I made to get it myself. His lips curved into a smile on seeing me act like a kid, as he made to grant my request.
WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DO YOU HAVE ME HERE? I wrote and gave the gray-eyed gentleman to read. He looked at me in amazement, as he smiled again, taking the pen from me.
SPEAK AND I’LL GIVE AN ANSWER TO YOUR QUESTION!
My lips curved at his command. Speak and I’ll give an answer to your question, his words rang in my head. How am I supposed to tell him that it was impossible doing so? I licked my bottom lip and went writing again. TELL ME AND I WILL!
I knew that was a lie.
His brows arched up and a smirk eluded his lips, as he took the paper from me and tore into half.
DON’T STRESS IT! I KNOW YOU CAN’T TALK, he used sign language next, as I gaped at him, not believing how perfect he was at it.
Mom’s never got it so well. Who is this guy? I thought hard, determined to know who my mystery angel was.
Found you in the woods. You were cold and almost without breath.
I was taken aback by his narration. In the woods? I found hard believing. Last time I checked, I was still in my bedroom, sle-I suddenly remembered-the dream! Heavy pants escaped my lips as the saliva in my mouth felt stuck. I remembered the torturing device used on me, and how I was trapped someplace I used to know as the old town’s hospital, with Nita being the enemy.
Nita-
The thought of my sister made me tremble. I couldn’t fear Nita any less; she was the one person I dreaded most. But Nita couldn’t have been the one in my dream, could she? I thought again. I must be seeing things, I sighed, convincing myself it was nothing but a mere figment of my imagination, and felt relieved that it was.
I know what you’re thinking;
I sat perplexed.
I won’t hurt you.
That wasn’t my major concern. All I wanted was to be out of here and be back in my bed. Tell me how you found me. I want to know, I gestured with curious brows raised.
I already told you I found you in the woods! He wore a serious look and folded his arms. I can’t believe you have no idea who it is you’re talking to, he continued.
How come he knows me, I gave a hard thought. Searching my mind for answers, he added, Sam-the name struck me.
Sam? I instantly remembered Anita’s Sam. The boy she had cried over, constantly not wanting to eat despite all pleas. Sam, the name rang repeatedly in my head as I boiled with rage. This pervert hurt my sister and now he has me here? What games is he playing? What motive does he have? I couldn’t help throwing a deadly glare as I felt the ounce to punch him.
Ea… sy, he motioned in a way to calm me down.
Don’t you dare-I didn’t wait for the words to all get out in my head, as I rose to my feet, feeling dizzy still and fell back on the bed.
~T.B.C~