by Sinden West
“Get your ass downstairs now.” He says tightly.
Nothing in me seems to be working right. I try, I really do, but my body won’t do what I’m telling it to do. It’s not good enough for him and he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder and carries me down the stairs.
There are four of them waiting, four, and my fuzzy brain reminds me that I must make sure that I remember their names for my list. They’re all drinking and snorting stuff as I’m stripped bare. They’re laughing and happy. The first one is okay, I keep drifting in and out of consciousness and I hope that I won’t vomit because that’s how I feel. And there are all of them taking turns with me. Then I see Stefan, he’s passed out in a chair.
Someone says, “What are you doing?”
Another male voice says, “Let’s see how she likes this.”
And that’s when things go really bad.
And then I am above and below me is a naked girl, bruised and bloodied. Lifeless now, she lies twisted and broken. All that superficial beauty is gone.
The rose has withered.
The men are gone, but Stefan stirs, vomits down his chest, and then his eyes flutter closed again like he is having a peaceful dream. He doesn’t see her, not until he wakes later. His eyes open wide and his mouth twists as panic sets in. He crawls over to her, through the alcohol and sick and blood that soaks the rug. He is a desperate man.
He sees how white she is; he can now see that she has been physically destroyed, and he lets out a moan and tears appear his eyes.
“Oh, no,” he breathes. He takes her heads and lowers his face into her hair while sobs rack his body silently.
Then there is banging on the door. He stiffens and raises his head.
“Michaela! Michaela!”
It’s Liam. I told him never to come here and now he has, but it’s too late. “Michaela! Open the door! Open the fucking door!” There’s a harsh bang, like he’s kicked at the wood. “Open the door or I’m calling the fucking cops!” Another bang.
Stefan straightens, his tears are gone. His eyes narrow as he gets to his feet and brushes off his pants.
He is Stefan and he king of all he surveys.
He is Stefan and he will not be thwarted.
He’s all business now and he finds his cell. “It’s me,” he says when whoever he has called answers. “I have a problem. Get here now.” He hangs up. Liam’s banging as stopped. Has he given up? Has he gone away?
It doesn’t really matter anyway, but it’s nice that he came.
I feel at peace.
I feel loved.
Stefan stares down at the girl. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You deserve better, but this is the way it has to be.”
Then he turns on his heel and heads for the stairs, leaving her alone.
I watch her.
“It’s better this way,” I tell her, and then I close my eyes and think of princes and roses and planets. Fantasy is better than reality, and suddenly, I do not care if I die at all.
Epilogue
The pain is gone and I wonder if I’m dead. But I can’t be because I can feel rough, scratchy leaves under my cheek and my hand is touching dirt. I hate dirt. I hate being dirty. That hand is outstretched like it’s trying to escape, fingers curved into the ground and nails filthy, not with dirt though, with blood. Is that really my hand? I’ve always taken care of my nails, just like my clothes. My clothes must be ruined too. But I’m not wearing any clothes right now, I can’t move my head to look but I feel hard ground beneath me, more leaves scratching into me, and a soft breeze through the trees that should be making me shiver but even that reaction is beyond me.
A rasping noise sounds, and I’m scared. I should be so scared of many things but right now it escapes me what they are. That noise is close and inhuman sounding. Every horror movie and scary story that ever elicited fear in me runs through my fuzzy brain. Maybe adrenalin will kick in and I’ll be able to move in a flight response.
It rasps again. This is wrong, there should be no monsters here; it’s so pretty. Sunlight is glinting through trees as the breeze rustles the leaves; this is nature at its finest. Somewhere I can hear water running, a stream perhaps, a waterfall. The small waterfall at the swimming hole maybe? The thought excites me, maybe my friends are there, maybe they’ll find me before the rasping monster gets closer.
But that noise can’t get any nearer to me than it already is, it’s like it’s on me, in me. I hear it again. It’s not a monster, it’s me. It’s coming from my chest. I’m breathing.
See? I can’t be dead.
I hear my name, or am I delirious?
“Michaela!”
I moan, but’s it all I can do. I moan again, at the same time that my name is called.
“Here!” Someone yells, “She’s here!” Running through the leaves. I see manicured hands and the speaker drops to her knees. It’s Mag’s bending down, lying down to look me in the eye. She’s dressed in hiking clothes and has a pack. She starts to cry and grabs for my hand. I want to smile. I want to cry. But I can’t do anything but stare back. Why is she here? She hates nature. Why is she hiking?
I hear more running, and my name is screamed. It’s Philippa. “Thank, God, Thank, God,” I hear her breathe as she drops beside me.
And then something, a blanket, is placed over me. “Give her space.” I know that voice and it makes my heart soar. “Go back to the path and make sure they know we’re here.”
They do what he says. “We’ll be right back,” Mags whispers and she gets to her feet.
Liam takes her place, reaching for my hand. His eyes water. “I’ve been looking for you for days. I found it, Michaela. I found it,” he whispers.
My book of bad things. He found it.
There is more commotion and a mask is placed over my face, and gently, I float away again, but this time, I want to come back.
The End