Not an Object, Not a Weapon

Chapter 1: Broken

"I'm impressed," he crosses his arms over his chest, "appearances can be deceiving I guess. Maybe you are perfect."

"Broken," I whisper to myself. Lifting my arm, I get these shocks that circle through my entire body, "hurt." Rubbing my left hand down my legs I feel multiple bumps and cut skin. Finally calming myself down, I smell the blood that I seem to be sitting in, "Me?" I whisper. Becoming aware of my actions, I suddenly realize that I am saying random words out loud but in this moment, my craziness does not bother me. I am too confused to be trying to control my actions. "Wonder," I say yet another word that does not seem to make any sense, but yet, it does. I am wondering why I am hurting, why my lungs burn and why my eyes seem to hurt from tears that must have come only minutes ago.

"I saved your life," the man tells me. His voice echoes in my body sensing vibrations.

"No," I say rather boldly considering he is in the position of all of the power. "That does not seem right."

"Believe my flower." Flower? I am not a flower, or if I am then I am a flower who just had all of its pedals picked off and then got its stem dismantled.

"Believe," I mumble to myself, letting that word float through the wind, "believe," I say again trying desperately to believe, not believe in him, but to unbelieve the pain, and unbelieve the scraps and bruises. "Believe," I pull my legs into my chest, "I like that." Lifting my head ever so slightly, I let the wind blow through my hair. The breeze is warm and welcomes my aching body.

"They sure did a number on you," he says with a smile. So he didn't save me? If he saved me, I feel as though he would be concerned with my mental state, he is not. In fact, he seems rather entertained that the darkness has seemed to have controlled my mental state and physical state.

"Number," I giggle, "like one, two three." The breeze is still circling around my body and it almost feels like a pillow, although I guess it feels enough like a pillow so I lean back and end up falling completely on my back. "Three," I say. Why does that number make me feel something? Why remorse? "Three," I repeat really trying to think it through? Why is this sticking to me like a memory that I don't remember? My breathing gets shallower and I feel my heart racing, "three," I say again trying to figure out the significance. My brain seems to be working overtime and headaches start. "AHHHHH, MAKE IT STOP!" I start screaming, "PLEASE, STOP, STOP, PLEASE!" I feel my left arm twitch and my legs are unwinded from my body and both my right and left leg twitch. "HELP!" I scream out again. '"Three, three, three, three," I repeat quietly before having my body go through another fit of pain and discomfort, "STOP! BURNING! DROWNING! AHHHHH! STOP! PLEASE! NO MORE! CAN'T TAKE IT!"

"Knock her out! She is trying to remember something!" the man screams and all of a sudden I feel a wood paddle against my head and with a thud, my body stops moving and my mind goes blank.

@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*

"Hello, my flower," a man walks into my room and sits on the edge of my bed... wait bed?

"Um," I say softly trying to process what words to say. "I don't-"

"Shh, no need to get worked up."

"Paddle," the word flows out of my mouth. My eyes move from the plain, ceiling tile to my arms which are not visible in the light. "Bruises." Sentences still cannot form on my tongue but I think I am getting my point across.

"You are making no sense." So I guess my point is not getting across.

"Confused." My eyes move from my arms to my legs, and I almost wish they hadn't. "Blood. Scratches." My head turns to the left and then to the right taking in my surroundings before landing back on this man, "you?"