Chapter 7- Tara
Love blood
I fall asleep on the floor of the room, and wake up to sounds. Scary sounds that I always hated, but coming from someone I don’t know. Crying. I look up and see a horrific image. A girl, bloody and dying, is lying on the floor. I run over to her, gasping and crying, both of us. She grabs my face, and her hands are so cold I almost wrench my hands away. But I stay strong, and tense my muscles to keep me in place.
“They’ll kill you, t-they will.” She stammers, her face strewn with tears, blood and sweat. I’ve been like this so many times before, it seems. Maybe not as bloody as her, but I’ve seen pain, and I understand the pain she feels. I look at this woman, only a few years older than me, probably. She could have had such a life. Once again, for the millionth time in my life, I’m reminded how painful death is. Almost as painful as life. So when she tells me I’m going to die it’s all I can say to tell her;
“Not if I can help it.” I get down close to her face and whisper a lie. “I have a plan.” I feel my heartbeat quicken, telling someone dying a big lie, a painful lie. Her face relaxes and she takes her very last breath, her spirit leaving with it. I reach and take the corpses hand, crying and sobbing. “I don’t have one. Don’t have a plan.” A voice in my head, not my Brain Monkey, says,
Why would you lie?
I wanted her to die happy. If there was a way to do that, that was it.
But you can’t change what happened. Never.
I can’t change anything, ever, someone dying doesn’t change that. I nod, agreeing with myself.
If you do something wrong, and no one is there to see it, does that still make it wrong?
How does that matter? And who are you anyway? The voice continues to drone on. Droning on, until I realize whose voice it is. I stand up, letting the body drop onto the floor.
“You sleazy-” The door opens. “How are you in my head?” Joseph walks in.
“Like that? It’s a new trick we’ve been working on; most people don’t notice b that’s my voice. It’s too garbled for them. They say that’s a sign of weakness.” He almost smiles. “I guess you’re not weak.” I nod.
“Did you think I was? I just saw someone die. I’m still standing, aren’t I?” He sneers and sits on my mattresses bed frame, glancing at the mattress acctorss the room where I threw it last night.
“I suppose. But that’s nothing compared to what your father has done. Getting him to talk is quite hard.” Suddenly, I become a monster, not thinking, just trying to get into the sagging parts of his soul and make them bigger, and sinking my claws into him. I’m surprised when I don’t move. I just smile and say,
“Well, I just get it from him, I guess.” He smiles.
“Not from your mother?” I look down, struck down by how well he knows my dark spots. But then again, he is my father.
“I wouldn’t know.” I say. “She’s not able to tell me what she’s like.” Joseph raises his eyebrows, pleased to have struck a blow.
“Oh? And where is she?” I shrug.
“You tell me.” He smiles.
“Oh no, no, my dear. My Pearl died two years ago. I was wondering about your father’s Pearl.” I look at him, using all my willpower and energy to meet his eyes.
“She’s in a coma.” I say, by voice breaking at the end. He mock pouts.
“What. A. Shame. If she was dead, I would be able to help you. But alas, she’s not. How sad. But of course, you could always have my Pearl.” I frown.
“You said she was dead.” Joseph shakes his head and clicks his tongue.
“Ah, ah. But the bad guys lie, don’t they? Yes, they do.” He says. He grins with his, gets up, and leaves me alone, silenced. He won, and I lost.
As the days, hours, and even minutes, wear on, and I am tested constantly, but still telling him nothing about how I got here. I hear news of my father, but never see him. One day, Joseph shows me a picture of my father being tortured. I flip.
“How dare you! You can lie to me, torture me, and hurt my father, but do not, DO NOT! Dare to throw it back in my face. You are a disgraceful human being.” Then I turn around and refuse to talk him until he leaves. I’m not sure what his “Testing” Is for, maybe the human breaking point, but I do not cooperate whenever possible. He gets inside my head. I yell for him to go away, or don’t even talk to him. When I see someone die, I pray over their body and bury them in my food. They give me food, but I don’t take it. One day, I smudge the cameras with Mayo and stuff a piece of bread into my mouth before cleaning them off. When blood gets on my floor, I clean it up. When someone in my head, I show them the door. I have no breaking point. Until one day. They give me dreams. Horrible dreams. Thumping. Gasping. Crying. Bleeding. I never see much, but the images are horrible. My father eating a beating heart while my mother lies bloody and dead beside him. my mother breaking my head open, laughing as she does so. My father grinning at the graves of all my loved ones. James sticking a knife into someone’s throat. I wake up sweaty and crying. I grab my chair and throw it at the camera, screaming.
“HOW CAN YOU BE SO HORRIBLE? I GAVE WHAT I HAD FOR EVERYTHING! EVERYONE! NOTHING EVER CAME BACK TO ME! NOTHING!!!!I WAS LEFT, BROKEN AND BLOODY, IN ALLEYS AND GRAVEYARDS, LEFT TO BURY MY OWN! TO BURY MY SELF! YOU CAN’T GIVE ME WHAT I NEED? WHAT I TRUELY DESERVE? YOU-” I break off to sob. “YOU GIVE ME BACK MY FATHER!!! AND THEN YOU CAN SEE WHEN MY BREAKING POINT IS! BECAUSE GUESS WHAT? YOU HAVEN'T FOUND IT!” I drop to the ground. “You haven’t found it.” I whisper. I don’t look up, I refuse to look up. I hear screaming and crying, my mother back from the dead, everything I want and everything I hate. I don’t look at anything, I just let tears come down, down, making the ground around me wet. I don’t look up. Until I hear one tired, dry, loving voice. I look up and see him, He smiles at me.
“Tara.” Is all he says. I sob, but don’t have any tears left. Nothing comes out when I try to tell him how glad I am to see. Him. Finally I choke out one word. The word I have wanted to say for the longest time.
“Father.”
Really enjoying it! :D Keep up the good work. :)
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