Chapter 26: Unintentional Freedom
"Hit me." I bring my hand down, slamming my empty cup that previously had apple juice in it, on the counter. There's a reason why I don't consume alcohol and drugs and it's not because I was taught about the dangers; it's because I'll be a threat to society if I ever get a hold of alcohol. Come on--a superhero on drugs? That's a recipe for global destruction.
The bartender for Purple Moon just contorts his face and glares at me as he takes my drink away for a refill. He probably thinks I'm a psychotic child who got a hold of a school I.D. I wouldn't blame him either since I'm dressed like a top-notch gang-banger, all disheveled and drinking juice like it's heroine. Oh great; I went from apple juice to heroine. If I were my parents, I would've disowned me a while ago and thrown me into the penguin patch at the zoo.
Progressively, the music gets louder and I feel like absolute garbage. I start to fiddle with a penny that's laying on the counter and twirl it around the wood with my finger. Soon enough, the penny slides from my grip and hits a plastic container with the missing people's report on it taht holds coins in the donation box.
The photo on it looks oddly familiar and as my eyes try to focus from my previous crying and snot explosion, it becomes clear. Point-blank-period clear. The reason why I know the photo and why it seemed to hit a nerve.
It's a photo of Misty with her arm slung around the guy who just walked away with my cup. She looks happier than usual and her purple hair streak is in the process of fading. He looks nonchalant as if he doesn't give a care in the world even though they're directly in front of The White House. If she's in the picture, maybe he actually knows something about her that no one else would. Then I could track her down and explain everything. I won't be imprisoned! Freedom is mine, all mine!
I may have had one drink too many.
Though I never thought there'd be a day where I'd be saving Misty from any kind of situation because I "care" about her. I don't. I'm doing this because I don't like it when people refuse to share lunch food because I supposedly made a person go missing. It's not even that big of a deal. People overreact all of the time, I tell you.
From around the dividing wall, the bartender comes back with my apple juice filled to the brim of my Elmo-themed sippy cup. I take the lid I laid down and screw it back on to the top, still sort of upset with everything and not sure how to approach this guy. I mean, if you wanted to ask me, I'd high-tail my butt up out of here with the daggers he's giving everyone. Sure I'm a hero, but I can tell an axe-murderer when I see one.
"Thanks." My voice tremurs as I speak. Real cool. "Um," I squint my eyes towards his name tag. Brock. Ohmygosh he even has the homicidal name. "Brock?" Unecessary gulp. At the mention of his name, he stops in the middle of wiping the counter top and perks up his eyebrows towards me. "Do you happen to know a Misty Harper by any chance?" You ratchet girl, he has a stinking picture with her. Don't be stupid, of course he knows her!
A small frown makes its way onto his face as he stands tall and scratches his beard. "Uh, yeah. She was my cousin. Why? Do you know her? Were you close?"
We were really close. . . to strangling each other. "Not really. We knew each other, though. Do you happen to know anywhere she would be? I mean, I know she's missing and everything but have you thought of where she could've gone if she wasn't kidnapped and just ran away?" Goodness, I sound like I don't have a heart. "I know your cousin was kidnapped or whatever but are you sure you actually tried to get her help and found out where she went, because to me, you haven't."
So inconsiderate.
The rag in his hand starts oozing bleachy-cleaner as his hands grip it tighter. Maybe I could've been a little more compassionate. "I never actually tried to find out where she could've gone to. Misty's not the type to run away from home, girl. If she ran away, she'd eventually hit the trees that border most of the state and she hates trees. And pennies. Don't forget pennies. So no; I don't know where she could've gone because someone took her. She didn't run away or vanish in thin air." There's a sharp edge to his voice. One that those dramatic documentaries have about the polar bears that make you wonder if it's just a pedophile in its natural habitat or if they're using a voice enhancer.
Maybe it's smart if I leave this place before I get tazed to the floor. There's something black coming out of his pocket and I'm not sure I want to find out what it exactly is. Because if I do, I'll never make it home. Leave it to me to make a bartender want to kill me in less than three minutes. I can already envision my convulsing body. "Um, thanks for your time, but I have to go now. My mom texted me to be home."
"How would you know? You never even looked at your phone. And why're you so interested in my cousin? You got something to do with it?" Yeah, he's plotting something illegal and brutal in his mind for me.
Stay calm, Rosie. He can't kill you. You're a super, remember?
Right. Good for me. "No, sir. I was just curio—"
"Are you that Rose girl?" That's it. Duces.
In a moment's time, I'm up out of my seat and running for the door with him hot on my heels. Why do Ryan's shoes have to be three sizes too big? Because fate hates me and thinks this will be humorous to watch. I can't even get a chance to mourn over my possibly-missing father because of it. Which is why, in the future, I plan to move to Zimbabwe or Mexico.
Mexico is more of a getaway place that no one would tell on you for. I'll keep that thought close in mind.
"Where do you think you're going, girl?! What'd you do to my cousin?!" I pooped her out of my butt. Is that what he wants to hear? Because that's about as true as the statement people are making that I actually took her. There's absolutely no logic in that thesis, anyways. Scrawny Rose stealing the mean girl?
Zero. Logic.
Ahead of me, there's a fence that's too tall to hop over so apparently, it's fate laughing in my face with its stinky breath once again. That's right, Fate. There's such a thing as a toothbrus—
"Ugh!" Before I get the opportunity to finish my thought, I fall to the muggy ground on top of some shredded leaves and moss. That was cruel. My breath gets hitched in my throat as I try to continue my sprint and my feet are grabbed by heavy hands that're followed by a small growl. What is he, a gorilla?
On command, I'm flipped over to my back and kicking profusely. "Get offa me! Help! Someon—mmph!" My mouth gets covered by one of his hands and he leans in dangerously close while I still kick like a maniacal rabbit.
"You ain't going nowhere until you tell me what you know. And I'm not," He pauses in his sentence and flashes something metal and shiny to the corner of my eye. I'm no genius, but I'm pretty sure that's not candy. The cool material strokes my neck in a way that half-tickles, half-scares me. I'm going to go with scared since I'm pretty sure I shouldn't laugh right about now. "Playing games. Now, where is she?"
At this point, I have options that determine life or death. I can cry,—which I'm already doing—or use Thalia to get rid of him, but that would only reveal the Rose Parker is Thalia which I'm not particularly ready for, or let him kill me. And Plan C seems to be my best bet.
I start to think back to my medical phase I went through in Freshman year of high school. What the crap did they say about being a medical professional? Something about thinking fast. . .
Oh wait, it was to think fast. Well, I'm slow at that.
So I do what any other teenaged girl would do: I kick him where it hurts and make a run for it. It's hard work being the most complicated person alive. I finally make contact to the fence and begin climbing at an unnaturally quickened pace. As I haul myself on the top to drop to the other side, my shoe is snatched away by Brock and I fall to the ground with a loud thunk and one shoe on.
Ryan's shoe to be exact.
Boy, I'm going to get it when he finds out I lost his shoe. Without turning back, I continue running and running and running some more. I don't know how long I run, but by the time I stop, I'm completely lost and amongst a Hunger Games like area. I can almost hear the Mockingjays. . .
Just to test it, I do the four note whistle Katniss does in the series and get nothing in return besides a few wolf howls that're enough to shut me up. Not to mention the ever-so-delayed, unidentified, vicious-sounding snarl. I'm losing all sanity (which I don't have enough of as it is) with each stride I take. Not to mention that I only have one over-sized shoe on with some weather-defying clothes. Oh, the breeze.
I force myself to keep moving on in the wooded area because even though I don't know much about medical emergencies, I know I could potentially suffer from hypothermia soon if I don't stay moving. And if my body freezes over out here, I'd probably be found by those vicious beast-monsters that need some fur conditioning before I'm actually found by a person.
And I will not let them eat my hair.
Beneath me, the crisp leaves crunch and I can almost be one-hundred percent sure I heard someone yelling help. Just the faintest of faint whisper-like voices. That's already my mind messing with me because if anyone was here, they sure as heck wouldn't be alive in this weather. It's Christmas season and the temperature drops lower than my godmother when she's out "celebrating" at some club, drunk off her fat butt.
Trust me—that butt's pretty fat. If you remember how back in the biblical days they killed fatted calves for food, her bottom can be about two of those fatted calves. It's just that big.
"Help." There goes my wacky imagination again, except the voice was a little louder this time. I haven't heard something so fake sound so clear since I imagined the day I get to jump around on my dad's grave. At least when I hated him I wanted to.
"Help."
Oh my gosh. It's like it's coming from directly underneath me. Perplexed, I look down at the nature-cluttered floor and tap my foot a little bit on the ground to check for some type of talking toy. Even though that'd be a pretty sick toy.
At first, I hear nothing but the rustling of leaves but once I hit a spot around the outskirts of where I stand, I hear a difference in the reverberation. It's more of a hollow sound. . . A hollow-wooded sound. If I find a dead body or something else creepy under this muck, you can be sure I'm going to pee, poop, throw up, and pass out, simultaneously.
Spreading out all of the leaves, I kneel down and start to feel for the wood or some type of entry right when my hand glazes over am ice-cold steel handle. Well, this person weren't playing games, were they? Once my vision of the door is clear, it's obvious this was planned. You don't just happen to find a wooden trap door with a lock attached to it out in the middle of no where and in the bitter cold.
You just don't.
I slap my hand on the planks of timber and lean my head down to wait for a reply. "Help me. Please. . ." So there really is someone down there, huh? But what if this is one of those things like in movies where the "help me" voice is actually some enraged demonic orphan who's luring me into her devil cave in order to chop up my lungs and have them for breakfast?
I actually like my lungs in one piece.
Hoping the wood is old and worn down enough to break, I tug on the lock itself and do nothing but hope it will open.
It doesn't.
"Whoever's in there, the door has a lock on it and I'l try to get you out of there as fast as I can, okay?" I listen for a response but there isn't one and that excels the panic attack that's rising in me.
Wait a minute. I'm freaking Thalia, I can do whatever the crap I want to do. Wish I'd thought of that a while ago before I was chased and almost knifed in the gut. Despite the cold, I try my best to concentrate on the lock and snap the arch that completes the circuit. In an instant, it bends backwards and off of the handle in a swift, clean movement. That was pretty easy.
Energy surges through my body, not only warming me up a little, but helping me work faster at the entry. With one last tug, the door on the floor opens wide, revealing a shivering body inside the cubicle. It can't be any bigger than the average bathroom and has a small empty plate with crumbs on it.
Were they seriously sick enough to leave a plate of food and leave? If I were to kidnap someone, I would've at least given them some candy to last a while longer. Or chcolate. For goodness sakes, she's a girl. This kidnapper doesn't know when Mother Nature comes to get her. So rude. People don't even have hearts these days. Not that I would steal somebody though. My thoughts are cut short when realization hits me on who's actually inside of this torture chamber.
Misty. The whole reason why I'm stuck in this forest is because of her, but she's the one person I happen to run into.
"Misty?" I ask the corpse in front of me—or at least that's what she looks like. Her hair has icicles hanging from greasy clumps, her eyelashes have frosted over, her skin has gone from her usual over-done tan to a pale, Kristen Stewart blue and her purple hair streak has gone completely blonde.
She musters enough strength to shakily gaze up at me and no less than a minute of her seeing my face, a terror-filled emotion overtakes her and she backs her way into the far corner. "I. . . told you I was sorry. Please, Rose. . . please. I'll be good." Never thought I'd see the day where Misty is apologizing and I'm in charge.
I kind of like it. I can get her all riled up and being my slave for when I don't want to do the dishes. Knock her around a bit and I'll be living the life of a queen. I can already see me giving orders and when she doesn't submit to my them, the paddle will finally come in handy. Yes. . . power is nice.
Wait, what am I thinking? She's on the verge of death. In fact, Death is probably camping out behind her with his cozy fire and feet propped up reading the latest People magazine, just awaiting the right moment. I can't let my fleshly ideas get in the way of saving a life. Even if I wish that person were never born into this world. The reason world peace hasn't come is because of her fathead. Maybe if she didn't hog half the hair salon with that whopper, people could be happier.
Like me.
"Misty, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm gonna get you out of there, okay? You can go home." She snaps her head so fast back at me, I'm almost scared she's been watching too many horror movies. But just as fast as it came, her facial features leave without a trace. She stretches out her unrealistically pale hand towards the top of the hole she's been put it and I grab it, hauling her out of the confined space.
At the skin-to-skin contact, it's more like I just went to touch her heart instead. Her heart is just that cold.
I glance around to find something that could warm her up but see nothing. I'm an idiot. I'm expecting to find some giant space-heater out in the wilderness or some oversized mitt blanket that just so happens to be laying around. This is the result of watching too many cliche, unrealistic, adventure movies with Ryan. He's changing me.
To basically "dumb down" what has to happen since there's no magic blankie around here: I'm warm, she's cold, and my arms are free, unfortunately. I'd rather just singe them off than to wrap them around Misty's ratchet, twig-body. Oh, goodness, she has me saying ratchet again.
"Now don't freak out, Misty. I'll explain everything later, but I'm going to need you to trust me." So don't go thinking that I'll kill you off now, even though from what I've gone through at school, I should. She eyeballs me with vigilence and a hint of panic as my arms dreadfully encircle her. She acts like I actually want to do this. If it were my choice, I'd have her cocky-self strapped to a gurney and terminated, immediately.
But that's not legal, so I guess I'll have to settle for this misery.
We walk for a while with me awkwardly leaning in to her and her taking these ridiculously small steps. It's freakin' negative three-thousand degrees out here, Misty. I'm going to need you to pick up your sasquatch feet if you wanna make it home, alive. This isn't going to work for me. "Um, Misty? Do you think you're ready to pick up the pace?" Before I clock you? Her response is nothing but the features on her face in a stand-still and she continues walking forward—I mean scooching.
Donkey-face, I asked you a question! You're just lucky I can't hurt you right now. I wish that I could like you more because you're saving me from being put into jail but I can't help but think it was practically your fault I was almost sent to jail anyways. Therefore, I still don't like you. Plus, you reek.
I almost stumble over my next steps since Misty chose a random moment to speed up her pace. The look she wears is now warmer and filled with hope, but she never strays her eyes away from ahead of her. To find out what caused the sudden motivation, I look in the same direction, throught the dark night, and see what she's excited for.
There's a house not too far away with the porch lights on. And a few more lit houses. Then a familiar family-owned mini market.
Oh thank goodness, we're still in Virginia beach! I thought I was going to have to regurgitate the candy I had earlier if I held her any longer. She's a big girl, she can keep her own self warm.
Out of nowhere, she stops walking and turns towards me. Is she trying to die? Stopping in the middle of the cold while your body temperature is just about to hit the next lowest degree is not the smartest thing to do just because you know you're saved. Ever heard of an idiot?
"Why are you saving me after everything you've done?" Everything I've done? Me? Does she not recall all of the crap she's put me through?
"What're you talking about?" I think the cells in her brain are slowly dying as we speak because that makes no sense.
"What you've done to me! First of all, you kidnapped me, then you wouldn't feed me, then you would hit me and all of a sudden you come and save me? What're you trying to set me up for? If this is some other trick, I'd rather just stand here and die in the woods. I'm not letting you win this, Rose. You're freaking sick." Despite her unstable condition I promise you she was in five minutes ago, she takes off into a surprisingly fast sprint away from me towards a house that appears to be quite small.
Too bad I already know what she has planned to do and I refuse to let her do it. I'd rather just spill the beans than go be taken into custody when this all could've been avoided. But we all know running is not my forte
Before she gets too far away, I bring out my hand and guide a fleet of dead leaves to sweep in front of her face which entagles her and she falls backwards on her butt.
Then, ever so creepily, she turns her head to stare at me, mouth gaping open. I'll just assume she knows by now who I am or at least that I'm not actually an "average human being." Statistics can't handle me and my sass, anyways. I'm too good for them. "You're Thalia, arent you?" No, I'm the Cookie Monster. I don't bother to answer her and her stupid question.
She simply keeps eye connection and stands back up to her normal height. For someone who was shivering and frozen solid moments ago, you sure are moving pretty well. In seconds, she's in front of me, a safe distance away where she won't smell my fart I emitted. "You were Thalia this whole time? Why didn't you tell anyone? Oh my gos—I thought there was something off about you after a while! I should've just followed my instincts the first time! Ugh, I'm so stupid!" Got that right.
The paleness in her face starts to wear off and I can tell she's warming up from all of this sudden information as she paces back and forth, face-palming herself. You would think that with her weird ring incident she knew something. I sure thought she did.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm cold, I can't find my dad and neither can anyone else, I don't even know if he's alive or not, and if I stay out here any more than I need to, I'm going to collapse. So you can stay here and ponder about whatever for as long as you want, but I'm leaving." I make a move to walk away but am stopped by her yelling for me.
"Rose, wait! If you didn't do this to me, who did? I know it was you I saw everyday. I'm not crazy." Does she ever just shut. Up? I whip around to face her, aggravation showing on my every feature. If she weren't just held hostage underground, I'd hurt her.
"It's complicated, okay? It's these—I guess you could say 'bad guys'—who're after me and I don't know why. They follow me, taunt me, and frame me for everything. One of them can shapeshift into different people so I guess she pretended to be me who kidnapped you to turn you against me. You don't have to believe me, Misty, but it's the truth and if you can't accept that, goodbye." Irking my nerves, Misty. Irking my nerves.
I shouldn't have jumped the fence. Should've went straight to Mexico like I planned before. By now, I could've been having a great fiesta with strangers I'd pretend I knew inside of a bar.
I'm pretty aloof before I hear a sudden shout from her and a few crunching leaves under her feet. "Wait! Rose, wait!" Dang it! I was hoping she'd just think I'm lying and find her way somewhere else. Dreadfully, I turn around to face her a final time.
She approaches me, panting for air and a little more tan. Goodness, girl, you only ran fifty feet to get here. You look like you just got back from the tanning bed. "I believe you and I wanna help get them. We could try to come up with some type of plan that'll finish them off if you want." Well, that's one intelligent thing she's said so far.
"You really just believe me that quickly? Are you sure you're okay?" Because she seems a little too forgiving to me. I was expecting at least a little bit of a fight. . .
She shakes her head vividly. "Yes, I'm positive, I'm fine. I just really want revenge. I'm good at that." But you obviously weren't good at brushing your teeth, now were you? But hey, I think that gap is closing in.
I cross my arms. "What were you thinking about doing?" The scariest smirk comes over her face.
No. That's not weird at all.
*authors note: im just sorry period. lol. i dont have an excuse besides i couldnt get a hold of the computer for over a week. and then two week sbefore that. and i dont use my phone soo... :T sorry! btw, askfm crew... all of those coincidental words from our conversations were written weeks ago. its just super creepy that they relate O_O Photo on the Side: FAN ART BY TheTragedyPapers! Thanks!! It's really cute! :) Chapterly Question: Who do you think the bad guys are actually after, now? ;D BY THE WAY: I HAVE A NEW BOOK POSTED UP! :) *