Hey everyone! I just want to apologize for not posting in a month, its not that I have forgotten this blog, or took all you readers who have been asking when I’ll have another post up for granted, but rather a mixture of being wildly busy and being unable to finish any of the multiple posts I’ve been working on. I am going to ask you to be patient for new content a bit longer, but I do have 6 or 7 posts in the making that I promise I will buckle down on and upload for you soon. Thank you!
Someone has yelled out my name. I didn’t hear it, but there’s that tingling feeling deep down inside that recognizes the voice and pulls me out of blissful blackness back into the grey walled room, back into myself.
I feel the coarse roughness of the leather straps on my wrists, ankles and chest; feel the unbelievable throbbing of my head and stomach as footsteps echo into my brain.
Get up, open your eyes! Everything inside is telling me. But I can’t, for some unexplainable reason my eyes won’t open; they feel as if they’re permanently sealed; my body like it’s been shut down.
There! I wasn’t hearing things, someone is calling me, but the voice sounds muddled, distant. I feel like I’ve sunk in the ocean, and the voice is on the surface, calling through the depths of water to reach me at the bottom.
“Rae, can you hear me?!” It’s a plea so broken and desperate, so hoping against hope that I need to respond. But I can’t move. It’s as if I am in a conscious coma; there’s absolutely nothing I can do but listen.
“She can’t reply.” Another voice patters into my head; the tones dry and uncaring as footsteps reverberate around the room, coming closer to me.
“What did you do to her?” the question is harsh and grating, like the one who asked it is doing everything in their power not to break down—or fly at the other’s throat.
“She wouldn’t respond to good cop, so bad cop had to come in.” the dry voice answered; I feel something brush against my arm as the footsteps pause right next to my head.
“But then, she wouldn’t open up to bad cop.” my hair stands on end as a hand places itself on my head.
“Soo, we had to call up ugly cop.” There’s a smile in the voice as the hand leaves the top of my head to pat my face.
“A pity we did, she really used to be a pretty thing.”A wild and uncontrollable terror to get that touch off me nearly chokes me as I try to scream…nothing comes out. Let me die, please, just let me die
“But look at her now; she’s all disfigured and bloody.” I feel my head being turned from side to side as the hand grips my chin.
“Would you leave her alone!?” The first voice shouts so suddenly that the hand leaves my face. I hear a chuckle as the footsteps recede, away from me, and to the other voice.
“You’ve grown attached, I see.” The sentence is laced with underlying harm, I can feel it; something really really ugly is being plotted out, something that feels like it’s gonna be related to me.
“Ooh, you don’t have to respond, it’s quite obvious.” The sound of hands touching metal reaches my ears. I hear a sharp breath being drawn in from the other side of the room.
“That’s why you’re here, see? Because I’m going to use her to get what I want from you. It really turned out a lot better than I thought.” The sound of pliers opening and shutting turns my stomach into knots.
“But in order to get what I want out of you, I must wake her up first.” The voice is smiling again as the footsteps get nearer and nearer…………..