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Gifts

Page 12

by Ethan Marsh

I am conscious.

  I am sleeping.

  But I am awake.

  I see the insides of my eyelids, as I sit there, in paralysis. I am unable to wake up, no matter how hard I try.

  I am stuck, in my sleep.

  I lose track of time again.

  I am conscious again.

  I know that I am sleeping, same as I did earlier.

  I am freaking out.

  I awake to a loud rumble.

  I sit in a chair, fairly large.

  A white jacket secures me tightly so I cannot move. I shake my body uncontrollably. I exhale all of the air that had ever been contained in me.

  I look up from staring into my lap. I am in a small room with weapons sitting on racks on all four walls, as well as the ceiling.

  Guns, knifes, and some things that I have never seen in my life before.

  Another rumble. It sounds like the ceiling will crash down.

  "Hello?!" I call.

  Nobody answers me.

  "Hello?! Is anyone there? Help me!!" I scream, hopeful that someone like Henry or Connie will come running through the door in front of me, that they will save me from this mystery of misery.

  Anxiety takes over me until the door to the room opens. The person in front of me is not Henry, nor Connie, nor anyone I know.

  An armed man with a full body suit, looks much like a SWAT team, walks in, and stands next to me.

  "Your execution will begin now," the man says.

  "What?" I ask firmly.

  "Of course, I will not be doing the performance. He will be here in a minute,” he says, oddly enough with a chuckle.

  Psychopath.

  It was odd how he referred to the execution to a performance.

  He aims the gun at me as another man walks into the door.

  Tedd.

  My mouth is wide open as he walks over to me.

  "Hello, Rom-"

  "Shut up! Don't act all nice. Inside, you are a no good piece of shit!" I scream, trying to gain control over him. I don't apologize for my foul language, he deserves it.

  I just notice that I am sweating, more than I ever have before. More than I was when they released. The sweat droplets spill onto the floor, creating a small puddle on the blacktop.

  Tedd glares at me as he walks over to one of the walls and grabs two knifes.

  I start to cry.

  "You can't do this to me!" I yell, all of my anger exploding out of me, charging for him, but my anger is too weak.

  He ignores me. He thinks that he can do this to me, that he has the right to.

  He brings the knife closer, and I try to struggle away, but the chair is bolted to the floor. I am bolted to the chair.

  A slit across my face sparks, as blood waxes and spills onto the floor. The tears add to the puddle of blood and sweat on the ground.

  The pain in my left hand strikes with such great force as the knife enters my body.

  I cry out.

  Spit slobbers out of my mouth and onto the floor, I feel destroyed.

  Tedd won.

  He holds his other knife up, and stabs it into the back of my right hand.

  I have never experienced this much pain in my entire life. I can't do anything about this, he has all of the control. My neck is bent over my chest, with my hands beside me, tied to the metal chair, they spewing out blood, as the pond of body liquids turns more red than clear.

  I tilt my head up to watch, as he grabs a third knife from the ceiling, this one much larger than the two before, which he had stabbed into both of my hands. He walks behind me, and pulls the knife next to my throat. He starts to pull, I can feel the blood creeping out when I can't breathe any longer, but then I feel nothing. Nothing at all. I see one thing, wrapped around his neck. A compass. My compass. Not his. Mine.

  I wake up covered in sweat on the floor that I fell asleep on. A headache follows me as I stand up from my doze. I have to catch my breath for some reason. I walk over to the bag of groceries and drink gulps and gulps of water.

  The liquid refreshes me, which is exactly what I need right now. I do not know what time it is, same like I have for the past couple of weeks, or months.

  I press the little flashing green button and the door opens. I am not taking a break from my training. I walk over to the forest that lays in front of me. The forest reminds me of happiness, I'm not sure why.

  I focus on my hands. They seem to spark easier this time. I don't have to try as hard, which is fine by me. I press my hands firmly against the nearest tree. After about ten seconds, I can see the tree perishing, burning to ash. I know not to burn too much of the tree, a result of it falling.

  The burn is extremely effective, which I enjoy. I am able to control my adrenalin powers. Now I have to learn how to fight.

  XXI

  I find a small yet thick tree in the forest, not too deep in at all. I spark the embers again, and burn the tree down, leaving a large log in front of me. It is light enough that I can lift it and carry it back to the building. I need some rope. I don't want to even try to make rope, so I will buy some

  I have ten remaining bolts. I will look for rope. I am okay on food and water, since I have decided that I won't be here much longer anyway.

  I run up the small track that leads back to Elm Avenue, and I look for a shop that would carry rope. I try the shop I was in earlier.

  I look in all of the aisles, but no rope was to be found in that shop.

  I walk further down Elm and walk into a couple other shops that could possibly sell rope.

  Nothing.

  Then I come to a hardware store. I figure that they must have rope in there. So I walk in casually, with my hoodie, my bag, and my hospital gown.

  The hardware store is like the shop I was in first, with much more for sale. I walk up to the desk where it looks like I can be helped.

  “Do you sell rope?” I ask the lady sitting in a chair.

  “Yes we do, young man. You will finds many different types of rope in aisle fourteen,” she replies.

  “Thank you,” I nod as I walk away.

  I find aisle fourteen, in the very back of the store. There, sitting in that aisle, are different shapes and sizes of ropes. I examine each one. I want something long, but not too long. Thick material would be nice.

  I find the perfect rope. Twenty feet of sturdy rope. It costs seven bolts, which is almost all of what I have.

  For the cause, I think that it is a great deal, even though I will be even more broke after the purchase.

  I walk back up to the lady at the desk and lay the rope in front of her. Her eyes stare into my soul, pulling me out of myself.

  “I'd like to buy this,” I say, calmly, trying as hard as I can not to draw attention to myself.

  She zones out, then “wakes” herself up, shaking her head.

  “Okay. Is your guardian here with you?” she asks, which catches me off guard. I take as much time as I can, then she waves her hand in front of my face.

  “Umm...” I start, trying to think of anything. I can't say my guardian are dead, because she will call the government, and they will say that my guardian is Tedd, which is true, but I hate his guts. His dead, slimy guts. I see that she had already scanned the items, so I knew that all I had to do was pay for them.

  Nervously, I slam the seven bolts onto the desk, take the rope, and dash out of the hardware store. As I am running, I look back and my eyes focus on her, straight in the eyes. She sees my face. I can tell. My burned, adrenalin face.

  I gasp with relief once I know that the lady won't come after me anymore. I run back to the building, and right into the room with the big door. I am lucky because none of the food or water was touched by bugs and/or other animals. I should be more careful the next time I leave.

  I take the rope out of the package, and toss it on the floor. After moving the log that I obtained before I got the rope, I tie the
rope to two things: a pipe running along the ceiling of the room, and the log. I make sure that it is secure nice and tight, and then I go back to the forest and find a log just like the other one.

  Thankfully, it is not that hard to find at all. I drag it back to the room, and tie the remaining rope to another hook and the log. I stand back to look at it.

  Now I shall learn to fight.

 

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