Trying the Terror (on hold)

Chapter 2

Author's note: Do ppl like to comment? I'm new to this so if you do happen to read my story please say something lol anything  

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i. 

Everything was dark.

Bang.

Memories of what had left me like this raced painfully back to me, making my head throb thunderously.

Bang- Bang!

It was so dark, then it registered my eyes were closed.  

"Duh Ceil open your freaking eyes" I willed myself . When I did open them, I was lying chest down on my bed in my hole in the wall bedroom. Was I really at home? How the hell did this happen?

BANG-BANG!! BANG!

"Damn it, I'm coming!" I screamed. I WAS back home. Meaning what exactly? Had last night really happened? I pushed off my bed bending my forearms and just caught a glimpse of the slashes that were all too prominent on my pale milky skin.

"What the f-"

There was another bang at my door, I swear to God the asshole will knock it down. I swear, what's his deal? But I already know the answer.

"You'll never amount to anything, you're an average student, you don't excel anywhere we put you, you wreck everything every little thing. But no worries, you're not living off me when your eighteen." The asshole had warned me, that being the height of every conversation we'd ever had.

I leaned of the bed carefully trying to assess my injuries. I know nothing about anything medical or why certain parts of me weren't doing what they ought to.  

"Pretty bad," I diagnosed. I looked at my back and the sides of my arms. There were raw spots where shards of glass had been removed but the cuts ran too deep to heal over night. Then pink strips of my flesh just ready to scab up climbed over my hip. I turned around to face the mirror. I groaned aloud in frustration and my hand went automatically to the dark purple spot just below my collarbone. Its was large and so sore you'd swear it was a burn not a black and blue.

It was also a reminder that everything that had happened last night was real. I searched my jeans pocket for the captain/ corporal's business card. I turned my pockets inside out frantically fed up of digging into such a tight compact.

"Where the hell is it?" I asked finding myself talking aloud more and more, a sure sign of insanity creeping up on me. "Finally." I sighed relieved.

Then I found my voice caught in my throat. The card was gone, and in it's place was a neatly folded piece of paper. I held my breath, my heart pounding hard in my head.

The paper was rectangular, cream, the colour of golden vanilla, and on it was a smilie face. It was red. Just the scarlet you'd see of fresh blood. And to reinforce that theory it was still wet.

ii. 

It took all the self-control I had not to scream, I was already shaking like it was minus twelve degrees in there. Was this someone's idea of a joke? I definitely wasn't laughing; the roaring in my ears grew louder. I bet it was my fear.

Damn straight I was afraid. Again, I'm no idiot.

Was this Gabe? Or what about the captain? The thought of someone who was so appealing and looked absolutely gentle doing this for kicks was gut wrenching.

I looked around, paranoia in my mind. I ran to the window and drew the curtains. It was seven, curfew had just ended. Almost over its soft-bronzed barriers the sun shone, its orange rays pouring over the cold of downtown. Its warmth reached me and instantly I relaxed. No darkness equalled no Terras.

I threw on my baggy black jacket and left the clutter of my room. Something about my over loaded shelves and the litter of papers tiling the floor made my room all the comfort I'd needed.

I walked into the kitchen. I was actually considering breakfast this morning. I thought I'd need all the energy I could get just to survive the walk to school.

The step losers were seated at the dining table easily content with ignoring my existence. I glimpsed at Anna and the disgust she so clearly directed toward me. She should just make a sign " The nuisance of an orphan ten dollars a photo". Anna had been the one pressing for me to get a job. She wanted me to start working off all I owed her.

But I owe her nothing. Where does she get off calling me a damned orphan and holding it over my head for the rest of my life?

I turned back to the issue of breakfast. "Where're the bowls?" I asked with the politest tone I could manage. It's hard to be nice to someone who's made your life miserable.

"They're in the sink." Anna said plainly.

"I can see that." I said just noticing the massive pile of dishes stacked on the counter and in the sink. "Why didn't y'all wash up?"

"Why didn't you last night?" She snapped. "You were just in your room staring out that damned window like a no good child."

"Really?" And that was a genuine question.

"You'll wash them now." She said.

"Is there an option?" I asked. Anna shook her head. " You're serious?" I demanded.

"You will wash them now." The asshole reinforced, and a slight challenge was entangled as he glowered at me.

"Listen I have to be at school for eight, and I have to walk. Let's be reasonable." I insisted.

The asshole repeated himself and narrowed his gaze at me. He wasn't masking his hatred towards me, and when I didn't move his stare intensified. He stood up leaving his coffee and newspaper perfectly aligned and grabbed a fist of my hair. He yanked my head tilting me onto my side.

"Allen!" I screamed at him while Anna pretended not to see. "Let go your hurting me!"

He hissed through his teeth and I froze. Stifled with horror, pure terror. He sounded like that thing that attacked me. Cold. Violent. Hatred for me in every fibre of his being and I was scared he'd be intent on killing as well.