Ragged

One day, I was sitting alone in the shower rooms when I felt the back of my neck prickle. I knew this feeling, and I knew what was coming next. I quickly slipped down to the floor so I wouldn’t hurt myself. I was being watched somehow, and all hell was about to break loose.

“What are you doing this time?” I winced. Even now, decades later, this fight stuck out in my memories. “Have you decided again that just being a girl isn’t good enough?” I didn’t want to relieve this again. “Do you want to be something else?” It was one of the worst. “Isn’t what I’ve given you enough?” The voice was louder now, almost deafening. “Are you not grateful?” Why didn’t’ they hear? “Do you think someone else would be better to you?” Why didn’t they help? “You’re wrong!” Were they torturing me? “And you’re damn lucky I’m so good to you.” Were they trying to break me? *Slap* “You don’t deserve it, all that I’ve done for you.” My breath was now coming in harsh, ragged gasps; it was stuck in my throat like my mind was stuck in the past. *A punch, in the eye* I tried not to scream as I relived my worst nightmare. “Get up, you baby.” No no no no no, keep quiet. “Stop crying.” Yes, that’s right. Shh. “This *punch* is why *slap* girls can’t handle business! *punch*” Calm. Breathe. I’m okay. “Because you’re all such wimps! *a punch that drops me to the floor*” I’m still whole. This isn’t real. “Got it?” This isn’t happening. “I said, GOT IT?” Not real. “I asked you a question!”

“OKAY!” I scream, surprised to hear my voice. “Okay.” Only a whisper now. “I understand.” And then I’m gone.

My mind floats. I wonder how it is that someone knows. How they found out. And I hear the blessed sound of people talking.

“…okay?”

“…don’t know…been a long time since…”

“Breathing steady…”

And I know that I’ve been rescued this time, taken away from my torturer. Saved by the LEP. Who would’ve thought? But I will not let whoever this person is torture me. I will find them and dispose of them. And then I will find their source of information and show the world how crazy I really could have become. I could have gone psycho, running over anyone in my path and taking my anger out of the innocent. But I haven’t become the crazy person. I’ve kept myself sane, and become brilliant. Once everyone knows, they will understand their subservience. I vow revenge on my tormenter one last time, and then let my thoughts drift away, taking me to a safe place.

***

This time, my coma lasted longer than ever—a good 36 hours. Every time, the return to my body becomes a bit less comfortable and requires more effort. I stretched slowly, feeling the blood flowing back into my arms and legs, forming a steady pulse that shot all the way through my extremities. The blood flow caused me physical pain, and I hat to try my hardest to not cry out. I but my lip, but even that couldn’t keep the tears out of my eyes.

It took five minutes for the pain to subside, but let me tell you, it felt like hours. After the dragged on period or re-inhabitation had ended, I decided to try sitting up. Ouch! My hip hurt from being laid on for one and a half days, and my muscles were straining to lift me. I frowned. This wasn’t how it should be. I felt old, frail, and weak. By mud men standards, I was ancient, but to the fairies I was, or should have been at the best part of my life. Why was everything falling apart here?

As I pondered the mystery, I chanced a glance outside my cell door. The cameras were there, as always. There appeared to be a flurry of motion, and I could hear several reporters on their cell phones, calling in the information for a voice-over. I allowed myself the luxury of a smile. Still famous, then. At least that was not likely to be taken away from me. After all, who doesn’t love hearing about every twitch of Haven’s own psychotic pixie?

It was saddening, though, that I was being through the filters of the media. Rather than being infamous, I should be famous! If the fairy people were a bit more open-minded, I’d be out of here quickly. Actually, if the fairy people were a bit more open-minded, I wouldn’t be in this hellhole. Had they only listened and been brave enough to kill the med men when they’d had the chance, I would never have tried to wipe them out. I had just been trying to teach them a lesson, really; they needed to know how violent the mud men really were. If they got wind of the fairies, Haven would quite possibly become Hell. And being underground, it already had the proper location. Throw in our large jails and advanced technology, and no one would be getting out. My way, those that weren’t wiped out by the probe would at least have a warning and a fighting chance.

I actually hoped that the mud men would continue underground investigations and discover us. I appeared to be one of them; heck, I had made myself one of them! I would be saved and everyone else, doomed. Since they had refused my saving them before, I figured it would only be fair.

I realized at this time that I was swaying and about to fall over. Perhaps I should have gotten some food before I got lost in my thoughts again, but there was something undeniably alluring about doing nothing but exploring my brain. Now, though, I was absolutely starving!

Almost as if my thoughts had been read, a bowl and a plate appeared next to my door. I hurried over to find the food, relishing in the feeling of eating something. The food was really the only way to keep track of the time in this place. Sure, my cell had a clock, but it didn’t even work correctly. I suppose in some ways I was lucky; no one else had a clock in their cell. But my clock would periodically stop, either that or move so slow that every minute lasted a lifetime. And then there were the times it would jump erratically ahead; I supposed to make up for the lost time earlier.

I longed for a calendar to show me how long I’d been here. To me, it seemed like ages. I didn’t know how long it really was that I’d been trapped here, maybe a month or more, but it couldn’t have been much longer than that. Not much about me had changed, for one thing. Oh, sure, I’d gained back a lot of the weight I’d lost, but other than that, I looked the same. Same beautiful smile. Same deep eyes. Same ragged fingernails. The first two, I was proud of, but the latter was something I would do everything I could to change.

Some other stories by carino:

• Taken Away Updates
• How to Write A Good Fanfiction!
• Never Enough
• Desperation- Award Winner! 2nd
• A Christmas Surprise-oneshot