They Say Opposites Attract

III. In The Dark

I don't know how long I sat there, not hearing. Not seeing. Sitting there with nothing but an empty void of space. A void that was devoid of any sound.

I tried to move, but my limbs refused to follow my orders. I couldn't even feel them in the first place, but knew they were still there.

I learned that that kind of acknowledgement was normal; we still perceive things as existent even if said object could never interfere with any of our senses.

It was odd.

It was enough to induce the extreme panic that was now running through my veins. Or, whatever I was now feeling.

That's another thing. It's possible to feel something and nothing at the same time. It's a terrifying feeling and would send anyone running from the man known as sheer terror.

He carries a double edge axe with cracks in its sharp edges and a face mask (covering his whole face) with holes for air.

Of course, this man approaches everyone, just with different tools and clothes. He always comes after me on a horse made of nothing more than bones.

Something flashed before my eyes and I reached out to it. The light grew brighter and brighter before fading into the scene of an empty room.

I sat up, lowering my hand before taking a look around. The walls were white and supported various posters of all types.

They seemed to have something about health in all of them which kind of piqued my curiosity. I took a breath of air too fast and started coughing when saliva went in the wrong way.

I looked up as someone entered the room. She wore a white lab coat that dragged along the ground silently. Beneath that was a white shirt that was worn by someone who seemed to be too young for her job.

She noticed that I was awake and hurried to my side. "You're awake!" She yelled in a near whisper, which I didn't think that was even the slightest bit possible.

In a normal tone of voice, she continued. "How are you feeling?" She awaited my answer a bit too eagerly, doing so with a rather large smile. It creeped me out. Not in a fearful way, but in a damn-thats-way-too-angelic-way.

I lifted my hands up to tell her in sign language before realizing how little it was used in the world. I looked around for my backpack which sat beside the hospital-like bed I was in.

I grabbed it, unzipped it, and pulled out my notebook. I grabbed the pen that was inside of it and started writing something.

The woman, whom I had guessed to be the nurse, smiled and waited for me to finish. When I did, I turned it over and showed it to her.

This was an alternate form of communication I often used. Albeit a bit slow, but easier nonetheless. 'I feel fine,' the page says to her, 'my thigh hurts though.' I remembered quite vividly what had happened that led me to this state.

Despite this, I found it difficult to explain the situation to her when the question was brought up.

However.

"You say all of this," the nurse spoke up, making me look down, "but you seem to be avoiding telling me of her appearance."

Her appearance. I explained it as simple as possible. After that, she sighed and said that she knew exactly who it was before leaving the room.

Why'd you give her such a vague description? My mind screamed in annoyance.

How could I tell her?

After all, I saw her as one with the most captivating chocolate eyes that matched her smooth skin. Adding that to her black hair pulled up in a ponytail that barely reached her shoulders made her absolutely perfect.

However.

She hurt me.

I bled so much that I had lost my conscience. I was quite a stranger to pain, so this feeling was... odd. Foreign. Back when I had surgery on my vocal cords (hence the scar on my neck), I was numbed and put to sleep.

I didn't hate the feeling. Or, rather, I didn't know how to feel about it. It was confusing and left me in a slight panic.

What am I supposed to feel about it?

Perhaps I'm supposed to feel terrible?
Perhaps I'm supposed to feel angry?
Perhaps I'm supposed to hate her?

Is this confusion... natural?

It didn't feel so in the slightest and only added more to it. When I was about to reach my limit, I noticed movement from the corner of my eye.

I looked over to see both the nurse and the girl from earlier walk in the room. I bit my lip at the sight.

Perhaps my confusion was misinterpreted as me despising her since the nurse pushed the girl forward.

She had a look that seemed to scream 'I have better things to do.' "Go on," the nurse ushered her, blocking the girl's only exit. "I won't let you leave until you apologize, Raven."

The girl, whom I'd guessed (like anyone with common sense) was named 'Raven' let out a sound akin to that of disgust.

Raven moved over to my side and looked at me with studious eyes. "Why should I apologize to a 'toy'." At that, I choked and started coughing. Toy? It's not the first I've been called that, but I still hated the phrase.

The nurse behind her sighed, shaking her head. When I was finally able to pull myself back together, I found myself with a slightly worried look.

The nurse spoke up again, "I'm serious. If you don't apologize to her, I'll keep you in here forever."

Raven rolled her eyes at that and stepped back. She spoke up again, "I'm sorry," I was about to give a nod in response when she added, "That you're a stupid bitch."

I hate her.

In that very moment, I understood exactly what I'm supposed to feel towards her.

Anger.

I clutched my pen tightly, trying not to repay her earlier actions with my own. I glared at Raven and she simply laughed at that.

"You seem like a fun toy to play with," she says with a smile. She placed one hand in my hair and started petting me softly, like one would a dog. I reached up and started scratching at her arm.

I pointed my pen at Raven, but she reacted in a similar way. I gasped as the cold metal of that same knife from earlier pressed against my stomach.

She bent over and whispered into my ear. "You're mine. You'll be my plaything for forever," I couldn't help but shiver uncomfortably at that. I backed away from her as she trailed the knife along my stomach. "You belong to no one, but me. Got it?"

I shook my head. I didn't want any part of this. Why wasn't the nurse stepping in? Why was she just standing there?

"Oi, I will drive this knife through your stomach," she says in annoyance. That meant I was getting somewhere. I bit my lip and shook my head again.

I'll never give in to her.

Raven sighed at that and pressed the knife more. When I tried to move back again, she noticed and pushed me down. She held my wrists in one hand and kept the knife to my stomach with her other hand.

"I'm sorry, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me," Raven spoke up. Despite her apology, her tone of voice did not correspond with her words in the slightest. "Ah, you're crying again. How pathetic."

I couldn't help it. She was drawing blood again. From my abdomen to my chest. My skin parted for her knife, blood appearing in its wake.

"So, what's your answer?" She asked me with a glare just as sharp as her weapon. "Kid, I don't have all day." I gave a quick nod. Raven smiled at that.

Before letting me go, she made sure to take a good, memorable taste of my tears. She dragged her finger along my newly formed wounds and licked it.

She's a sick, twisted girl.

She can't be straight in the head.

She's a damn Sadist.