Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Eighteen

A/N So a few orders of business before going onto the chapter:

1) Would anyone be willing to write a review for this book? I would like to post some in the new section I put up Awards/Reviews

2)This chapter is more graphic than the last one. We're going to call it PG-13. I wouldn't say it's particularly gory, but if you are at all triggered by abuse, please do not read. I will write a non graphic summary at the end. 

Anne didn't know if she was bluffing, or he was bluffing, but either way, intense fear bloomed inside of her as he picked up the scalpel and pressed it against her sternum. Scalpel was an awful way to go, it was so small it took forever to finally bleed out—you couldn't exactly just plunge the tiny blade into your heart. But at least it wasn't dull, and it slid easily down her body, albeit with immense stinging. She could feel the warm blood seep out and spill over her chest and abdomen, and she tried, dang, she tried, to have one out of those out of body experiences where she couldn't feel it and just watched like some helpless angel. But she felt everything, his hands and the knife and the blood and everything.

"You know, I didn't think you were going to sleep." His voice sounded so casual, as if it was normal to cutting up a thirteen year old on a metal table. It wasn't like she could say anything in response, she was too busy gritting her teeth and groaning as the pain ripped through her. He lifted the blade, then began to cut another line directly next to it. He didn't talk, so caught up in his own work. "When I was your age I wanted to be a surgeon," he said, and she could almost sense the grin. His fingers pulled apart her skin—oh God, oh God, oh God---and two fingers slipped inside the cut. Then she couldn't help it. She screamed. And then, as his fingers wiggled inside her. She opened her mouth, but the best she could do was strain her lungs even though no sound came up. Her body convulsed up and down, and finally the fingers came out, and he turned his back on her.

He paused, and Anne was left to try and catch her breath, probably in vain. "But, when I was older, you know what I really wanted to be?" A pause, and her body shook violently. "A hunter."

Just like that, her shackles were undone, but she felt like she was paralyzed. "I tell you what, I give you a five minutes headstart. What do you say, Carrots?"

"Yeah, and—and what if I don't?" Anne replied, her voice quivering.

"Well, then I guess I have to play surgeon on Sadie."

She knew that was going to be his answer—or something to that effect. But maybe her dream of a home in Cape Cod and Diana had made her believe in goodness and mercy for one second, cliched as it might be.

She forced herself up, even though her arms felt like they were going to buckle as they pushed her up. It took a few seconds, but she swung her leg over, and shakily, she stood on her feet. "Maybe you need ten minutes," he frowned. "I hate it when it's too easy." He turned his back on her, and she could only seem that was her signal. Run.

The adrenaline finally had her moving again, and boy did she run—or maybe stumble, but dang it, if she had to crawl on her stomach like the cursed serpent than she was going to. This was it. Her shot. Find Sadie and Hannah and get out of dodge.

The place looked like a scene right out of a horror movie—a dingy corridor that probably belonged to an abandon hospital, flickering lights where they were still screwed in to their sockets and dangling light bulbs in other places. Shattered glass carpeted the ground, but she was moving already and she couldn't stop herself.