They Called Her Fay Wray

chapter 10

Warning!

This chapter is not only the longest one I've written so far, but it also contains a nightmare at the very beginning. No graphic language or violence, but it is the traumatic memories of a frightened little girl. this story has been so light, I didn't want anyone to be taken by surprise.

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-To all outward appearances, the attic bedroom was peaceful and serene, but appearances were deceiving. The occupant in the bedroom felt restless, troubled, and lost.

It's going to be another one of those nights, she thought with grim resignation.

Rousing from another cat nap, the blind girl yawned and groped for her talking clock. When the pleasant female voice announced the time, she groaned; it was only a half hour later than the last time she checked.

Downstairs, the family slept on without a care in the world, unaware of her inner turmoil, and she envied them. She longed to be oblivious, like any other human being.

Sleep and peace seldom walked hand in hand in the life of Amanda Grace King. Dreams of any kind was as familiar to her as her right hand, but things had been so quiet lately that when the old nightmare re-surfaced, it caught her off guard. She could usually control or at least influence her dreams to a degree, but that was not working either, and perhaps this was why it came as such a nasty surprise. It loomed in the back of her mind like a terrible predator waiting to pounce, and she was its weak helpless prey, counting the seconds and waiting to be devoured.

As sleep claimed her once more, Amanda filled her mind with all the good things in her life. There were a lot of them, her family, her friends, all the time she walked around freely with Caesar at her side. And it almost worked. But no matter how far or in which direction they walked, the dream sucked her back into her past, back to that hateful place.

Caesar was gone, Koba was gone, and she was all alone, terrified, and surrounded by awful strangers with evil intent.

Desperately, she mustered her limited lucid dreaming skills. It's just a dream ... It's just a dream. You can stop this, Amanda! So, wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

Amanda repeated this inside her head. It became something of a litany, a desperate mantra, but it was like shouting into the void.

Nothing changed. The dream was winning. She fought against it, sliding in and out of sleep, but it would not go away. It did not change by the smallest degree. Yet once more, her mind was dragged back in to one of the two worst memories in her life, back to the so-called 'psychic school', the hell hole, the torture pit.

The voice droned on continuously. "Now be a good little girl, and stop fighting us, Amanda! Calm down. You're only making things harder on yourself. Just do what we've asked of you, and you can go back to your room and rest."

A pause, then, "You know what will happen if you don't, honey."

That soft terrible voice, so sugary-sweet, so ruthless and relentless.

"Shut up!" Amanda screamed. "My name's Amanda Grace, and I'm not your honey!"

Amanda, who was barely seven, wailed even louder as she twisted and turned and struggled against the strong hands that held her in the chair. There was no escape from the torturers who were supposed to be her teachers.

"I want Koba! I want Lewy! I want my Mommy and Daddy! I want to go home!" I want to go home, NO-O-O-W!"

The last syllable became the wail of a banshee, and the heavy metal table in front of Amanda creaked and groaned and wobbled. The set of drinking glasses on the surface lifted a few inches and hovered in mid-air for a tense moment before crashing down in a shower of fragments over its surface. The table lifted a few inches off the floor before splitting down the middle, the pieces of shattered glass making a tinkling sound as they rolled off and hit the floor. The two halves of the table came down, broken ends first like two metal spears, and embedded themselves an inch or more in the concrete floor.