I shouldn't have asked. He's never let me before, but I guess, on some level, I've always wanted to go. It's always looked so nice through the window, the only one he ever lets me open. I asked him before but…he said no. He said I was a bad boy, that only good boys got to go. He hit me. He made it hurt. But, I didn't learn my lesson. I should've learned my lesson. I should have known that he would look down on me with those hate-filled eyes, with that tall-tale twisted smirk that automatically means I should cover my head because he's going to hurt me, to make me scream. As his meaty hand comes down, I tense, ducking my head until I can't see him swing, in one pathetic little attempt to protect myself from him.
He doesn't hit me.
To my surprise, he touches my chin, the lightest, gentlest touch, and tilts it so I'm forced to look at him, at those dark, dark eyes. He's…thinking, his head cocked to the side, his thumbs rubbing the underside of my chin, like he does at night sometimes. Slowly, he trails his other hand up my arm, sliding his plump fingers up the loose sleeve in order to touch my snow-white skin. I can't suppress the shiver that crawls up my spin and touches the tip of my neck. He smiles, drawing swirls on my hollowed cheek, right over the bone, crooked teeth looking down on me.
"Don't you remember what I told you? How long has it been?" He looks at me so crookedly with those dark eyes, with those twisted teeth. I bite my lip until blood flows down my throat, knowing he wants an answer, knowing my shoulders are shaking pathetically, letting him know just how much control he has over me.
"I-I remember. You said p-people like me aren-n't al-lowed. Y-you said I was b-bad. Only good people are al-lowed." I nod as I talk, ringing my hands behind my back, making my knuckles scream silent screams. "Y-you said that…a y-year ago?" I guess, looking up at him with my big doe eyes, hoping he won't get mad at me, hoping he won't hit me.
His smile widens, his meaty hand petting my head. "Good boy. That's exactly what I said. You're only a few years off my good, confused, little boy." He lifts a few strings of my stringy hair before letting it fall back down, slapping my forehead, tangling in my dark lashes. I flinch. "Do you really think you deserve to go?" He asks me in that false sweet voice, the one that may or may not be a bad thing.
"…no?" I guess. He bends down to my level, running his fingertips along my sunken cheeks, that sinister smile planted on his face.
"Oh, you don't think you deserve to go? And here I thought you were such a good little boy, always doing exactly what you're told." His smile twists as he runs a fingertip along my chapped lips. Slowly, he stands, backing away from me. "Of course, if you don't believe you deserve to go, you shouldn't, should you?' And, with that evil smirk, he turns around to leave.
But he can't.
I really do want to go.
"No, please!" I beg, latching on to his sleeve so he'll stop. He looks down at me, those eyes darkening with every second that passes by, surprised that I would even have the audacity to beg him for anything. "I-I…I've been good! R-really! I did eve-everything you said-d! And…I-I…please? I want-t t-to go. Please, ple-ase let me…I deser-ve to…I-I think, p-please?"
I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for him to hurt me, because I know he will. He always does. I should have just kept my mouth shut. I should have never asked. I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want him to hurt me anymore. I don't-
Suddenly, he pulls me off of him, roughly forcing me to stand in front of him, my wrists slapped together painfully, bruises rapidly forming. And, I know he's going to hit me. I know he's going to hurt me. I know he's going to make me scream until I can't scream anymore.
He doesn't hit me.
He lets me go, ever so gently letting my arms fall to my sides, my eyes still clamped, locked away from the world, from his prying eyes. I feel fingertips rubbing the underside of my chin, loosening my jaw as shivers trail up my spine. At times like this, I wish he would just hit me. I wish he wouldn't play with me, manipulate me into thinking everything's okay. I really wish he wouldn't.
"Do you really want to go? Really, truly my sweet, little boy?" Hesitantly, I nod, allowing my eyes to crinkle open, his face mere inches from my own, his rank breath filling my button-like nose. "Well, then, I suppose I'll allow you to go." And, I'm sure he can see my eyes light up, no matter how much I try to hide it. But, I want you back before the sun sets. Do you understand me?"
Before I can even think to nod, he's dragging me along behind him, cave-like rooms passing me by. With the slam of a door and the release of a vice-like grip, I feel my bare feet on cold stone. Cement. I'm finally here.
I'm finally outside.
I squint, the afternoon sun burning my darkened eyes, the sky an array of colors. It's been so long since I've been outside, since I've been able to see the green of the grass, the illuminating flowers without the aid of paneled glass. Slowly, I step away from the cold cement block I'm sure is supposed to be the makeshift porch, my clothes billowing around me with their extra, unnecessary fabric.
And, before I know what I'm doing, I'm running, running down the hillside, slim ankles screaming in protest. I slip in the moistened grass, falling onto my back, knocking the back of my head and skinning my slender elbows, porcelain skin tearing like dampened paper. I don't even care about the ruby red droplets of blood slinking down my arm as I stand again, unable to take my eyes off of the tiny town below. I wonder where I am. He lets me watch the television sometimes, only when I'm good, but this place doesn't look anything like the places on the screen, the ones with the pretty, flashing lights.
I don't care.
It's somewhere. Somewhere that isn't inside the same cave-like rooms that are slowly suffocating me with each passing day, that hold nothing but hidden pain and confusion.
Slowly, I walk into the town below, sneaking on to a deserted street through the hastily chopped bushes. My bare feet slap against the cooling concrete, pieces of gravel indenting my tiny toes and heels. I can't keep my eyes from widening at the sheer number of buildings. I've never seen so many before- at least, not in real life, not that I can remember. I smile. I want to run. I want to run down the street as fast as I can, followed by another and another. But, I won't. I can't get too far away; I have to be back before the sun sets.
I flinch noticeably as a man turns the corner up ahead. He's large, burly even, with broad shoulders and big feet hidden within splattered brown boots. He looks right at me with bright eyes slightly narrowed, like he's thinking, like he doesn't quite understand. I shrink into myself, hunching my shoulders, winding my hands into my loose sleeves, walking as fast as I can, surrounding my self with the hope that maybe, just maybe he won't care about me. Just as I'm walking past him, he touches a hand to my bony shoulder. It takes everything I can do to keep myself from bolting.
"Hey, kid, are you all right?" Hastily, I nod, listening closely for any sign of hostility in that gruff voice. I can't seem to find any. For now, he just seems…concerned.
"Y-yes, sir. I'm f-fine." I mumble, hoping he won't notice the stutter in my voice, the trembling in my slight frame.
"You sure?" He asks, tilting my chin up, so much like him, forcing my doe brown eyes to look at him, to let him see me. "You're not wearing any shoes…"
Self-consciously, I curl my heels inward, popping my slender, little toes. "I-I forgot them." He doesn't say anything for a long time; he just stares down at my slightly blackened feet with their faint scratches and ruby red splotches of blood.
Suddenly, he looks away from me, smiling in just the slightest way. "Heh, yeah, I remember when I was your age. Never much cared for shoes." I nod dumbly. "All right, kid, I'll stop holing' you up. You have a nice day then." And, then he's let me go and he's halfway down the street, on his merry way. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding, watching him leave.
I don't know what I want.
Part of me wants to run back to him and never come back to this place, this beautiful place that I've never been allowed to be. But, another part of me wants to run to this man I've just met, the one who's nearly gone, and latch on to him, to tell him everything. But, even still, another part of me just wants to enjoy my moment of freedom before I have to go back.
So, I run. I run down another empty street, my dainty feet slapping against the concrete. I run away from that man so I can enjoy my last bit of freedom before I have to go back to him. I don't care how lost I must be as I round another corner, my eyes searching, trying to take everything in before it's taken away from me. Before I even know what I'm doing, I've stopped, standing in the middle of a street, all the buildings long gone. And, I can't breath. All I can do is stand there as my chest heaves, as my frame shakes, my shoulders swaying. My dark eyes close as my porcelain skin begins to crawl.
I just want this all to end. I want everything to end. I just want to float away to a place where my eyes, my body can't remember the touches, the harsh words, the blinding pain. I just want to get away from it all…
I don't want to remember.
I don't know how long I stood there on the deserted street with my eyes closed, shut so tightly. My legs slowly begin to tremble, my ankles numbing. And, then I hear an inhuman screech, the sound of rubber tires swerving on blackened asphalt. I don't even have the will to open my eyes to see what I must have caused. I hear the slamming of car doors, the loud bangs ringing in my abused ears, and I don't want to open my eyes, for every time I do I see him looking down on me with his dark, devilish eyes.
"Hey, little boy, are you okay over there?" A hesitant voice asks, unmistakably female, unmistakably concerned.
"You're only a few years off, my good, confused, little boy."
"Of course he's not okay! The damn brat's standin' in the middle of the fuckin' street! Who the hell does that?!" thumping footsteps come up to me, an angry grabbing my shoulder and lifting my chin until my neck cracks, a loud popping sound to join the loud banging in my ears.
"Derek! He's just a little kid!" the girl screams, her voice pitched a bit too high.
"I hope you know your parents are paying for my fuckin' truck! Hey, look at me!" Furious fingers squeeze my chin, bits of dripping saliva hitting me in the face. Slowly, I open my abused eyes…and I see it all.
I see a shiny black truck with its side rammed against an old tree, one that's lived so long without ever coming into contact with something as atrocious as automobiles. I see a girl with long, red hair and the lightest colored eyes, her hands covering her mouth, fretting. I see the angry hand holding my chin, the broad shouldered body it's attached to, with its dark, dark eyes. Eyes just like him. And, suddenly, it's not some stranger looking down on me so cruelly, it is him. It's him with his cruel eyes and angry hand. It's him touching me. It's him. It's him. It's him.
I shake my head furiously, scraggly brown bangs falling in my eyes, trying so desperately to get away, my skinny legs barely holding me up above the harsh pavement. I don't want him near me anymore. I don't want his hands touching me, hurting me. I don't. I don't. I don't.
I scream.
"Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" I screech, my fragile voice quivering as I crash to the ground, my tiny fists beating the rough cement, my knuckles splintering. And, I know I must look like a child pitching a tantrum, my eyes squeezed shut once again, trying to hide the little rivers that are pooling behind my dampened lids. For a while, all I can hear are hushed words- "What did you do?! Is he okay?! Oh my god, oh my god, Derek; what are we going to do?!- and I start to cry.
I can't stop it anymore. I can't stop the tears from sliding down my face. I can't stop my body from curling into itself. I can't even bring myself to pull away as I'm pulled against the girl's soft chest as she lowers herself to the ground beside me. I just cry and cry, lying there in the middle of that deserted street until I can't cry anymore. I feel my knees knocking together, trembling, terrified because I must be late getting back to him, scared of what these people could do to me.
"Shh, shh, it's okay, sweetie. It's okay." the girl coos in my ear, rubbing soothing circles against my bony spine. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, so I just let it…happen. "Derek, he's so skinny…" the girl whispers, her cushy fingertips traveling up and down. "What are we going to do?"
"I don't know." the boy, Derek, mumbles, mostly to himself. His voice is shallow, all the anger gone, and I can't seem to figure out why. Why would he not be angry? Why would he not be grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to stand, shaking me back and forth? Why wouldn't he? "Hey, kid." I flinch, burying myself into the girl's side as he crouches down before me, not even my eyelids are able to block the shadow. "What's your name?"
I shake my head in denial, not even knowing what it is I'm denying, trying desperately to sink into the girl's side. She lets me try to hide, petting my scraggly hair like I'm some type of animal. Maybe I am. I just don't know. "I-I'm not al-lowed…" I finally mumble, my voice muffled.
"Allowed? You're not allowed to tell us your name?" I feel a calloused hand pull me away from the girl, making me stand all by myself- I'm always by myself. "Hey, look at me." I open my eyes, eyelashes clumped from crying. And, he's looking at me, his lips set in a thin line, his eyes not his anymore. "I'm not going to scream at you again, okay? I just need to know your name." I bite my lower lip until blood begins to dribble down my chin.
"I-I'm not allowed t-to use it." My fists clench by my sides, ashamed of the shaking in my broken voice. They look at me like I've lost my mind. And, maybe…maybe I have. "H-he won't let me." My knees come up to my chin reflexively, my gangly arms hugging them to me, protecting me.
Their mouths hang open, eyes wide, far too wide. And, suddenly, the girl's right in front of me, the boy slightly behind, a sweet, sweet smile on her lightly freckled face. "Okay, sweetie. Okay. How about this: my name is Kristina, but you can call me Kris, is that okay?" I nod curtly, watching her with my doe brown eyes. "See, that's good. This is Derek," she motions towards the boy, "now, tell me, honey, what's your name? It's only polite to tell us your name too."
I shuffle my feet, watching as it gets darker and darker; he'll be mad at me for being late. I'll never be allowed to come outside again. "T-taylor. I think that's my na-me." Her sweet, sweet smile widens as she rubs a circle on my jutted cheek.
"Do you have a last name?" Derek asks, touching Krista's shoulder blade, watching me intently.
"I-I don't re-mem-ber. S-starts with an 'L'." And, I can feel the pages turning in the back of my head, trying desperately to remember.
"Derek, didn't that went missing at the start of seventh grade have a last name that started with an 'L'? Was it Lakeview?" Red hair falls over Krista's shoulders…and Derek can't stop looking at me.
"Lakewind. Your name is Taylor Lakewind, isn't it?" Lakewind…Lakewind, is that my last name?
"I-I don't know. M-maybe?" I shrug watching them closely, terrified of having the wrong answer, terrified of being hurt again.
And, then, I don't know what's happening. Derek talks on his phone, voice rushed and excited, Krista holding me close, her red hair tickling my nose. Then, there's nothing but noise and lights. I see an ambulance, its siren screeching, followed by police car after police car. Someone pulls me away from Krista, ever so gently, and I'm vaguely aware that I'm crying as I'm shuffled in to the back of the ambulance and forced to lie down. My chest just heaves and heaves as people I don't know look at me. And, I know they're trying to calm me down, saying soothing words in my ears, rubbing my face, but I don't feel myself drifting until a cop is standing over me, smiling.
By @rileys
