Stories Poems Artwork Quizzes

Tests & Quizzes

Social

Stories

Art

Poems

Comedy

Email:
Password:
New User Or

Created By

hurdlestar

Rate this Story

+2

Embed

<div style="border:1px #ccc solid; background-image:url('/images/ray.gif'); font-family:arial; width:200px; padding:5px;"><center><div style="font-size:20px;"><a href="/story/hurdlestar/11267">??? not sure yet... suggestions anyone!?</a></div><table><tr><td width="50"><div style="color:#2CC362; font-size:15px; padding-top:4px; background-image:url('/images/profratebg.gif'); background-repeat:no-repeat; width:44px; height:26px; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; vertical-align:middle; padding-top:8px; padding-left:1px; " valign="top">2</div></td><td><div style="height:100px;width:100px; padding-top:9px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url(/images/storyCover.png);"><a href="/story/hurdlestar/11267"><div style="margin-left:9px; __padding:0px; height:90px; width:70px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url('http://www.testriffic.com/storyfiles/11267.jpg');"></div></a></div></td></tr></table></center></div>

+ 2	Never to Cheat
+ 2	Bobalo the Glorious Llama
+ 2	??? not sure yet... suggestions anyone!?

Seventeen years old, still fresh and young, Marie Philips holds out for the perfect first time. Only that night, that first, wasn’t so perfect. She was aware of Harold B. Miller but disregarded her parents’ strict orders to not go out past dark. She simply thought it couldn’t happen to her in her small, suburban town. But it did. Harold found her and kidnapped her. It was a breezy summer night, around ten. She was walking on a secluded dirt road when a dark shadow crept out of a nearby shrub and snatched her. She screamed but his sweaty, grimy palm muffled her desperate cries. She slapped and bit but he had skin of an alligator. Nothing fazed him… she could do nothing. At that moment all was darker than the night itself. He drugged her… so she couldn’t resist. When Marie didn’t return home that night her parents began to worry. They called all her friends, they knew nothing. They filed a missing child report. An amber alert was sent out and the search began. The police think of Harold right off the bat… he was just released from jail for his previous crimes and now was out to quench his thirst again. At this point her mother was hysterical and her father in denial. Marie wakes to a bitterly dimmed room. The only light source comes from a small night light in the far corner; it has the equivalence of one candle or less.

 

“Perfect,” she thought sarcastically to herself “this is just dandy!”

 

The wooden door scrapes open. His dilapidated soul enters the room, her heart drops, the tears build and finally fall. She whimpers as she tries to crawl away from the monster. He suddenly and painfully grabs hold of her arm, later leaving a bruise. A blood curdling scream is let out but the man simply says it won’t work. He picks her up again, as he did on the dirt road, and muffled her shrieking screams. He takes her to different room, a room with pain and misery floating about and nothing but a bed. She snapped her eyes shut and flashed back. Flashed back to her living room where her parents stood before her eyes once more and told her to be back at 7:30 that night. When she opened them feelings of terror stung her heart. He laid her on the bed, hand-cuffed her in. She felt his filth nestled throughout the sheets and the tears from the other girls mixed in with the DNA of a cold-blooded rapist. Her head was throbbing, veins bulging and eyes swelling by this point. She wanted to keep crying but the tears had faded, her eyes were dry and red. He put his weight on top of her athletic body. Before words, thoughts, feelings or screams could exit her soft, virgin lips his index finger had, motioning for her to shush.

 

He tried a comforting voice, saying “Don’t fret; I don’t want to hurt you… just corporate with me. That is all I ask.”

 

He failed miserably; she was not comforted in any way, shape or form. The tears flowed again, out of nowhere, as if a pipe had broken inside of her trembling body. Her eyes were still shut when she felt him remove her delicate pink sweater and un-latched her laced bra. Her dark washed skinny jeans were un-buttoned to reveal pink polka-dots. Both were stripped off of her, along with her innocence and his little speck of dignity that he had left. His soiled, naked and un-protected body was pushed up inside of her. She cried out in agony until he released and exited. Her body went limp as she curled into to fetal position, trying to cry out the horror. He picked her up, as done before, and threw her and her clothes out.

His scratchy voice yelled, “LEAVE!”

 

She looked up, in shock and relief, as she cursed him out. Telling him what a son-of-a-bitch he truly was. Where was she? How was she to get home? All questions that raced through her cluttered head. Her clothes were on her body once again as she stumbled to get up. The sun was now rising when she reached a dirt road. A dirt road that sent the memories of earlier, back to her coiled mess called a brain. She began to walk when she realized she had her silver, beat up Razor with her. She reached deep into her right hand pocket and pulled it out to discover the battery to be dead.

 

“Shit,” she thought as she continued to stagger along.

 

She came across a sign that read as follows; “Meadowbrooke- 5 miles, Seaport Ciaco- 11 miles and Woodstock- 37 miles.” Thirty-seven freakin’ miles from home.

 

“Great!” she acidly mumbled, “Just GREAT!!!”

 

As she turned a sharp corner she saw a gas station. It appeared to be abandoned though, even with another town so close? The pump stations were old and rusted. The sign was falling apart from corrosion. The building itself look twenty years old.

 

She tiptoed into the Mini-Mart and quietly questioned, “Is anyone here!?”

 

Her voice quivered as she peered into the darkened building. She heard feet shuffle amongst her. She franticly searched for the source when she heard a voice. A scratchy voice.

 

It replied, “In the back.”

 

She ran far away, from the voice of the devil. She kept running, ignoring her throbbing knee, until she reached Meadowbrooke. When she arrived her leg felt as though it would just fall off, due to a shooting pain down her shin to her swollen ankle. She limped into a local, small-time grocery store. She asked to use their phone and for some ice. She needed ice if she wanted to keep mobilized. She called her house. Told them where she was. Asked them to come and get her. She never said what happened a few hours ago. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips reached their indecisive, shaking daughter and saw that not all was right. She looked at them, her puppy-brown eyes big and full of misery. She told them what happened, about the man raping her. Her father, Charles, wanted to kill him, her mother, Peggy-Sue, wanted to even more.

 

Her bloodshot, tired eyes questioned, “Police?”

 

Peggy-Sue took her daughter in her arms and comforted her in a way Marie has never felt. In a way that brought her back to childhood when she’d get a boo-boo but also back to a time of innocent flirting and mindless talking. Back to a time when one didn’t worry of their child becoming a rape victim. Back to the simple, worry-free times that will never come back. She just held on tight, as if trying to suck the memories out of her mother and return them to her disfigured nervous system, as if squeezing out the memories of him. Charles drove the two to the local police station in Woodstock. Marie’s parents helped her into the police station and through the agonizing questioning process. She was fingerprinted, tested for his DNA reminisces and questioned. During the last part, her parents weren’t allowed to join her. It was just Marie, Sergeant Greg House and an exhausted, overused tape recorder. The two talked back and forth as the tape listened and took notes.

 

“Can you describe the man for me please?”

 

“Ummmm yeah… I guess so,” she responded. She felt her voice echo through the cold cemented room.

 

“Good… go ahead.”

 

“Well he was about six feet tall and Caucasian. I know for sure it was Harold though, I saw his picture before that night, on the news.” Marie assured the Sergeant.

 

“You’re doing great Marie. Now can you describe the event, in detail, from start to finish?”

 

“Sure,” she said in a wobbling voice.

 

The tears were already starting again; she was trying to hold them back, keep them in and not shed another salty mess again but she failed. The Sergeant handed her a box of silky soft Kleenex and asked her to please continue.

 

“Okay,” she took a deep breath and tried again. “It started around ten o’clock last night. I was walking home, disobeying my parents’ orders, when I heard rustling in a nearby bush. Then out of the blue he popped out and placed his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. Everything went black then and next thing I know I am trapped in some empty, ice cold room. As I start to get up, the same dark shadow enters the room. He picked me up and I could do nothing to faze him, NOTHING! We were now in a different room, a room that only had a bed. He placed me on the bed and hand-cuffed me in. He removed my clothing and raped me. After he was done with me he threw me and my clothes out, like little Raggedy Ann doll. I put on my clothes and checked my cell, the battery was dead. I began to walk along the dirt road until I saw a gas station. When I asked if anyone was there I heard the same scratchy voice of the man who had raped me. I don’t know if it was for real of my imagination but I ran. Ran until I came to Meadowbrooke, where I called my parents and then came here.”

 

She was amazed that she wasn’t crying but instead furious and ready to put his ass in jail. She would later have a chance to when court came about. The Sergeant shook Marie’s hand and thanked her for her help. He said that they’d try with all their might to catch Harold and try him for life. All that was left for Marie to do was hope. Hope they’d find him. Hoped they’d catch him. Hoped they’d kill him, torture him the way he tortured her and killed her at heart. Harold B. Miller was caught and placed in jail until further notice. That meant until the trial was done. The trail Marie would have to testify at later. A month later her period was supposed to start again but it didn’t. Another week went by and she became a wee bit more worried and then two weeks, then three. She was petrified by the second month, when she was to have had it another time, and her midsection was increasing in circumference. She was carrying a baby.

 

“What now… HUH!?” she screamed above to the heavens but the answer was in her heart.

 

She couldn’t rid of it, not because she was two months in but because she was 101% against abortion. She had to have this baby and pray that it wouldn’t ask who its parents were… a rapist and innocuous, harmless seventeen year old girl. She decided to tough it out and put the baby up for adoption. So, every morning she awoke to cramps and bloating, as if on her period but not because she was pregnant and carrying a life, supporting a life. One bowl of oatmeal or even a cracker couldn’t stay down but when it came to pickles, she could eat mountains of them. She absolutely disgusted them before but now they’re her favorite addiction. She craved them every second of every day and the big, slimy dill pickles were her favorite. Their sour, creamy taste and bumpy texture drove her taste buds wild. As a senior in school she had to finish out high school but she couldn’t. At the beginning she tried but the kids, her previous friends, knew. Not of her pain and sorrow but of the child she was having. She ended up in Independent Study because she simply couldn’t take the comments any longer. She was called a whore, skank, slut and any other hideous name imaginable but they didn’t know the truth. That she was kidnapped, raped and let loose like a useless piece of shit!! Nope… they didn’t… they thought it to be a one-night stand… an innocent flirt gone wrong but it was so much more. It was a scar to last a lifetime and even longer. Then the time came, the time that she both prayed for and feared, to go to court. She had to re-live her experience and let all know of her grievance… otherwise he’d be free and go do it again. Quite frankly, she had to testify if she wanted him gone and out of his life for good. And so she did. She sat in the hard, oak wood, witness chair and told the judge and jury exactly what she had told Sergeant Bob House. Only this time she did cry because of his presence. His beady little eyes staring her down, wanting to attack her again. Finally it was done and his ass was sent where it belonged, in jail FOR LIFE! She was ecstatic and now seven months pregnant. A month later, she was sitting in her comfy, over sized moon chair, watching the news, when she felt something soggy and wet. Her water broke. Then she saw a face flash up on the news, ‘Harold B. Miller Has Escaped Jail’ was the flashing ticker tape.

 

“Mommy it’s time and he escaped!” were the words screamed from Marie’s mouth.

 

Her mother and father helped her down the stairs and into the car. They drove for an hour to the closest hospital, in-between Meadowbrooke and Seaport Ciaco. Once in the sterilized, white room the contractions began. Before she knew it, salt dripped along her soft, peach fuzzed cheeks. The nurses kept repeating ‘PUSH’ until POP a little boy was born into the world. For once throughout this whole ordeal, a smile came about her face. When a women wearing a clean, classic-cut, black suit entered the room she wiped it right off. She was there to take him, half of Marie herself, and put him up for adoption. Marie knew it to be right but at the same time she wanted to keep him. And then she let him go, before she even held him, because she remembered who his father was… a rapist. The next day she signed herself out because she had turned eighteen about a month ago, during the trial. She went home and locked herself inside her room. She cried until she came up with a solution to her ongoing problem, cutting. She took a shiny X-Acto knife and sliced it into her clattering bones. The blood flowed out, creating a waterfall exit for her aching feelings. Today, the day she began to cut herself, was her parents’ Anniversary, four months after her birthday and one year since the assault. They were going out to dinner and a movie, she was staying in. Marie was going to have a movie night herself and just relax… alone. Or so she thought. She forgot all about Harold and the fact that he was still out there, somewhere, on the loose. But where? She waved good-bye to her elegantly dressed parents and disconnected the protective barrier hiding her self-inflicted wound. Once the frumpy house sweater was off she made her way to the kitchen. The microwave dinged, her movie theatre buttered popcorn was ready and her taste buds were watering. She cracked open a Dr. Pepper, the explosion of carbonation flicked her in the face. A large bowl now contained the steamy popcorn and a glass, chock-full of ice, contained her pop. She ran up to her room and put on her favorite pair of white stilettos. As she walked down the stairs, she pretended to be on the catwalk. She sauntered into the living room and turned on the tube. MTV’s ‘Top 20’ was playing.

 

“And at number 14, Pop, lock and drop it by Huey,” announced the host.

 

She screamed and set down her soda and handful of popcorn. She danced to the song. It reminded her of the old times, at friends parties, when she’d dance into the early hours of the morning. She stood there in Daisy Duke short shorts and a tiny white tank top while she popped, locked and dropped it. She was so thrilled to have these feelings back, to feel youthful again and innocent… not taken advantage of. The song ended and another favorite song came on, ‘U + Ur hand’ by Pink. She didn’t dance to this instead she curled up in the corner of the couch with her orange fleece throw wrapped around her, acting like a shield. But would it protect her? She kicked off her stilettos and grabbed a handful of popcorn. Mmm… yummy… salty and fluffy, it melts so gently into her taste buds, satisfying them. She washes down the salty butter taste and goes at it again. But she was interrupted when she heard his voice again. The popcorn was thrown into the air and her soda spilled, the mess was immense.

 

She recognized the same scratchy voice of his say, “Hey there beautiful, fancy meeting you here! So, how have you been… and how’s our baby?”

 

Her heart raced as she heard her chest heave up and down. Her breathing was heavy as his hands gripped her tensed shoulders. The tears paid an overdue visit when she abruptly awoke. Her head was spinning and heart beating a thousand times a minute. Her face was clammy and warm. The tears were real but thank god Harold was not. She reassured herself aloud and in her head that it was just a dream and that it wouldn’t and couldn’t ever happen again. But was she fooling herself? Could the assault really happen again… he did escape. When she turns around, her blood rushing through her core, she sees a dark sketch of something or someone pass through her narrow, lengthy hallway. Chills crawl amongst her back, creating immense fear, deep within her trembling body.

 

“Curly, is that you?” She called out to her small toy poodle, which normally pounced into her lap, to see if he was there.

 

When he did not come, did not pounce but instead yelped, she became frantic. She hastily searched the rooms, one by one, until she came to the end of the hall, there was one room left. Her bathroom was her last hope. Bit by bit she crept into the doorway to find a sick, cruel and deranged image, slowly burning into her eyes. Before her was a disassembled, bloody mess with black, curly locks mixed in. It was a gory, nauseating smoothie. She held back the vomit as she gagged. Her eyes swelled with tears of horror and disgust.

 

“Who the hell did this to me? What bastard killed my baby!?” She yelled to the heavens and anyone in the house.

 

A scratchy voice, appearing from each and every direction, whispered “You put our baby up for adoption, remember?”

 

Marie’s voice screeched as she yelled out to the man of her past. Full of panic and not clearly thinking, she asked him to show himself. The voice’s direction finally became clear as she saw a blood covered hand appear from the vinyl, rubber duckie shower curtain, that also had blood spattered on it.

 

As she darted out of the sickening, so called bathroom, she heard his voice trail off, saying “Right heeearr baaaaaaabbbbbbbb…….”

 

“NO! It can’t happen again. No, not now. I can’t be that frickin’ lucky.” She said to herself, eyes blurry with the stabbing pain of her past.

 

She was now stricken with a wave of alarming fright as she ran up her spiraling staircase, almost tripping over a few of the steps. Dare she look back? Would he still be there? Was she sleeping again? Nope, yes and no way in hell. It was all a matter of life and death now. All that existed were her instincts of survival. Would she survive this time? What about her parents, would they get home in time? Would he succeed another time? Would, would and would… is all she could think of clearly and without mistake. She runs up into her typical, teenage girl room and locks the door. For extra safety, she props the wooden chair, from her vanity stand, up against the white door’s handle. Her room was cozy and gentle with cream tulle hanging from her ceiling, creating a majestic flow around her satin covered bed. Her bed was fit for a queen. It had hot pink throw pillows in every nook and cranny of the orange silk, down comforter. On her walls were pictures she had drew throughout all of high school career, which she ended up finishing on her own and getting her G.E.D. for. There were pictures in black and white charcoal and others in crisp, black ink. Drawings of unicorns and horses, rotties and kittens, flowers and landscapes all existed amongst her baby pink walls with the humongous orange polka dots. Her room, which normally comforted her, no longer did. Instead it was her protection and her getaway… but for how long? She fell into her bed, as if it were her mother’s reassuringly calm arms and peered to her left, to her antique vanity stand. Everything was cloudy in her eyes except for one thing, the X-Acto knife. It seemed to shine with the muscle of one thousand burning white suns.

 

It called out to her, “Marie, Marie Phillips. I know you want to again. MARIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!”

 

She yanked the craft knife off the worn desktop and held before her eyes. Her eyes were stared, memorized by the beauty of the knife and the simplicity of it. How it made all existing problems just disappear.

 

“Would it make this problem disappear? Probably not but what the hell, it’s worth a try.” She thought to her self.

 

Her heart was in pursuit of relief. The blood surged through her veins, through her head and down to the tips of her toesies. Then back up. The process was also known as an adrenaline rush and made her fell wonderful. It made her dizzy and restless. Only one thing could calm her down, the cool swipe of the X-Acto’s blade. It dug into the thin skin of her wrist. This cut was drawn next to the other, creating two parallel vents for existing issues to exit. And they did. As the thick, warm, burgundy mess oozed out of her arm so did the evils of her tormented soul. She was now starting to relax, her blood cooling, her heart slowing when it all started again. The dizzy, restless confusion came back when she heard her door rattle.

 

“Shit, now what?” She asked herself.

 

She looked lazily over to her door, as if stoned. She acted like she didn’t care. She wanted to cut herself over and over again. Maybe if she kept doing it, then he would go away. Maybe if she kept staring at the door it wouldn’t burst open. Maybe if she kept hoping, her parents would get home in time. Just maybe. Her brain snapped back into place and told her to release the knife from her sticky, shaking hands. Automatically she let go of the blade. It hit her floor and the blood stained her elegant cream carpet. She paid no attention nor did she even notice. To compensate for her unconcerned actions she fixed her eyes upon her rattling door knob. What should she do? What could she do? Call 911? Maybe but she had no land line in her room and her Razor was dead… again.

 

“How fantastically ironic,” she quietly murmured under her breath.

 

Eyes still locked onto the door knob as the chair splintered under the vast amount of pressure. Harold was going to make his way in, no matter what and without a doubt. Marie knew this so she needed to figure out a plan. A plan of survival, not of the fittest but of the wisest. What to do… what to do. Hmmmm… what did she have in her room to hit him with. She thought she could find something, hit him over the head with it and knock him out. Then she could run downstairs, call to police and be saved. Would her plan flourish and fall to pieces right before her eyes? Oh well, she had to try. She had to fight back, fight like mad. She had to win if she wanted to live. She had a sick feeling at the bottom of her throat, not like she was going to hurl but a bad feeling. She felt like he was here to do more than he did last time. To make her pay for what she did to him. So she began her search to find something heavy and solid. A stiletto hell possibly. Maybe one of her purses or school books, the English books are extremely heavy and thick. Hopefully one of these would work as a crime deterrent, but which one. She slide open her mirrored closet doors and grabbed hold of another pair of stilettos she owned, shiny black ones. She stood in front of the door and waited. She waited for hell to erupt inside her once peaceful bedroom. When he came rushing into her room, a big goofy grin on her face she broke down. All the memories of her past haunted her yet again. She was going to hit him in the head with the stiletto’s heel but she couldn’t. Instead she fell to her knees and whimpered. She pleaded for him to leave and not do this again. All her actions and pre-planned ideas failed miserably. He got on top of her, pinned her to the ground and stroked her cheek. His filth was on her soft, porcelain skin again, after she had finally got it off.

 

“Don’t worry sweetie. It’s alright. I just wanna have some fun. Just play nice and we’ll do just great. Otherwise you’ll regret fighting back… trust me! Just relax and let me take care of everything. You’ll be fine, no worries.” He said, attempting to soothe her.

 

“What the fuck do you want? Why are you here? Why me? How did you escape? PLEASE just leave… please!” She pleaded to him, eyes full of tears as she squirmed beneath his massive body.

 

She wasn’t going anywhere. Not as long as he was there. His scratchy voice whispered into her ear as he eased is hands up her tiny, white tank top to reveal her black laced bra with the deep red bow on it. His hands removed the top as well as the bra. He kissed her chest as he moved down the middle of her stomach to her short booty shorts. He quickly unbuttoned them and whipped them and the starry underwear below them off. His clothes were already removed to expose the same dreadful body she remembered. He pressed up on top of her and molded into her curves. Again he was rolling anything on.

 

As he forced himself inside of her he whispered not so sweet words into her ear, “This time you’re keeping our baby. Even if I have to use brut force to get you to do it!”

 

She muttered under her breath something that sounded like, “Like I would keep your deranged, cuckoo child. In your dreams asshole!”

 

As payback he just pushed harder against her until she screamed out in pain and was left black and blue. When he was done this time he did not kick her to the curb but instead fondled her. He handed her clothes and ordered her to put them back on.

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me… right!?”

 

“No. Now please.”

She slowly put them on and when she was finished he threw her over his shoulder and out of the house. He threw her into the back of an old delivery van and drove off. To some place out in the middle of god knows where. To an abandoned little cottage where he’d keep her until their baby was born or until he was done with her, which ever came first. He placed her on a wooden chair, similar to the one he previously broke in her room, and tied her legs and hands the way you see it in done in movies. He gagged her mouth with an old, dirty rag as well. He drugged her again so she wouldn’t wake up for quite some time. So he just sat across from her, in his Grandma’s rocking chair and waited. He just rocked back and forth and back and forth until she awoke. When she did, all hell broke loose. She screamed and kicked while he sat there, rocking, as if nothing was happening.

 

“Awww… sugar plum… will you quit the funny business and JUST SIT THERE if I remove the old, raggedy gag?” He said to her in a tone that was meant to be relaxing and peaceful, but wasn’t.

 

She stared at him, wanting to bash his fucked up head into the ground and yet, wanting to JUST SIT THERE and behave.

 

He looked at her and whispered, “Yes or no! Simple question sweetie… YES or NO?”

 

Again she blankly stared as he became more and more frustrated.

 

Now, raising his voice considerably, he said “Blink once for yes, twice for no. Or better yet choke to death or starve! It’s your choice hunny… yes… or no!?”

 

She blinked once. Marie gasped the fresh air, breathing it deep within her lungs, when he removed the awful, life impairing gag. After some heavy breathing and blinking she was free of tears and level-headed once again. In place of her sorrowful eyes were furry and rage.

 

She intently peered across the room and asked him, “What’s your deal anyway? What do you want from me? You already raped me TWICE… what more could you want?”

 

The tears weren’t even building as she clenched her teeth and fists. Her temperament was enraged and off the wall. As she tried to block him out, forget he was there, she heard his was become stern as he spoke to her.

 

“Just making you suffer the way you made me suffer. Making me sit and rot in jail like that, how could you do that to your baby’s father? Huh? Oh yea… you got rid of our baby. So now I have to make you pay for what you did to him also. But that’s all right… you know why? Cuz you’ll have our kid this time round’. I will make certain of that!”

 

“Please leave me alone. Let me go. PLEAE… just leave me the fuck alone… please. I don’t wanna have a baby again. I never wanted to have one. And I especially don’t wanna have your baby.”

“No worries Marie… we’ll make a b-e-a-utiful baby together. For us to keep for ever and ever.”

 

Flashbacks to the blossoming age of fifteen haunted her head, returning to a state of insanity. The thoughts curled her thoughts together into one giant ball of pain and anxiety. They took her back to a time when the boy problems began. It was the start of a new semester, the last semester, of her sophomore year. The Spring Fling dance was around the corner but she wasn’t planning on going. After all… the guy of her dreams, a hot, popular, senior jock, would never date a geeky nerd like her. It was just the way it worked. It was the law of some idiotic, unwritten rule book. High school was full of things like that. Like, if your girls, never let your friends go to the bathroom alone. Or, as soon as you hear gossip tell it to a least five other people. Or, for the freshman coming in, don’t mess with the upperclassmen because they will hurt you. Don’t cheat on your best friend’s girl. And the golden rule, never date beneath your ranking. The rankings were quite simple and Marie stood at the bottom. She was beneath the weeds and worms at the base of the ridiculous high school totem pole. At the top were the “popular”, egotistic kids. These include the well known school sluts, or also known as cheerleaders, and the members of all varsity sports. The only kids exclude were freshmen, or freshies. Next down was all junior varsity players and mascots. Freshies were excluded here as well. Below the J.V. players and mascots, which are below the popular sluts and jocks, are the A.S.B. members. Next on the pole, at the fourth notch down, were the yearbook committee and computer whizzes. In addition to not being allowed in or even considered a part of the first two groups, the freshies weren’t included in the last two groups also. Upon the fifth notch are the emo, crazy, cutter kids and the drama fags. Then came the band geeks and choir bores. Below them the freshies come in and below that, Marie. Marie existed there because she was an out cast who had no life or friends. That’s cruel old high school for you. Full of self-centered bastards, skanky girls just asking for it, school spirit morons, funny nerds to fix everything, psycho, pill-poppin’ emo freaks, acting extremists and of course wandering, confused, helpless freshman. Marie belonged to none of these groups except the insects eating mulch at the uttermost bottom of the totem pole. She had zero friends and did nothing but read at nutrition and lunch. When she got home she didn’t paint her nails or hang with friends, instead she did homework and just kept on reading. She sulked down the halls, with her chin to her almost flat, 32A chest. Her long, clumsy legs often caused her to trip over things as little as a pebble. Her pigeon toed feet made her knees brush together and also caused her to fall. Her face was covered in freckles and her eyes a gloomy, grayish blue color. Her hair was golden brown and had luscious locks of curls. That was the only part of her unattractive body she enjoyed. So why in a million years would Toni want to date Marie? But he did and only God knows why, but he may not even know. The night of the Spring Fling dance, Toni, the school’s dreamiest boy, walked up to Marie.

 

“Hey Marie!”

 

“Oh mi gawd… he knows my name! He knows I exist! Okay… act calm, cool and collective… the three C’s of popularity (also a written law that’s not really written).” She said to herself as she pasted a huge smile across her face, reaching from ear to ear.

“Duh, uh, I mean hi.”

 

“Calm, cool and collective. Calm, cool and collective. Calm, cool and collective.” She screamed inside her head.

 

“Hi. So uh, wanna go to the Spring Fling with me?”

 

“Yesum,” she joyfully and sweetly replied.

 

“Great! I’ll pick you up tonight around seven. Where do you live?”

 

“3548 New Brooke Street.”

 

“Okay… see you then.”

 

The final lunch bell rang as he gave her a hug goodbye and a cute, little peck on the cheek. After he left, she clutched her books and binders close to her chest and peered above, to the skies, silently thanking God. Later that night, at the dance, she was in heaven. The song was slow, the kiss satisfying. When she went to the little girl’s room to freshen up, Toni’s friends called him over. He trotted over there, for Marie wasn’t the only one to feel a spark. His friends looked him up and down and wondered.

 

“What’s up with you?” One asked.

 

“Yea… you’re all giddy and stuff.” Another said.

 

“Nothing just holding up to my end of the bet. That’s all.” Toni replied.

 

“Humph… I’m definitely gonna win.” One boy said.

 

The other shot back with, “Nuh uh. He’s gonna be able to do it. You just wait and see. I’ll win your twenty dollars.”

 

“Really, let’s up it to fifty.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Toni just smiled and walked away. Because if he won he got to keep the girl and a hundred bucks. Also he’d be Prom King but like that wouldn’t happen anyway. The bet was simple and cruel. Toni merely had to turn the ugliest, geekiest girl at school into the Prom Queen. He had roughly six months to do so. The girl his to friends picked for him happened to be quiet, reserved Marie. They could have picked the goth chick that sits in the corner and cuts herself to relieve of the pain from typical high school drama. Speaking of drama, they could have picked one of the drama fanatics. Or better yet, a freshie. But no… they had to pick Marie. But I guess they didn’t know that she’d get hurt. Toni told Marie that they would be together for ever and ever but it was all an act of his player ways. His ruthless actions and malicious lies shattered her heart into billions of little shards and fragments. She thought she had changed him but you can’t change anyone unless they themselves want to change. One day, after biology, two weeks before prom, Marie was walking towards the three hundred hall, to his locker. She was going to meet him but instead saw that another girl, an alluring, and charismatic blonde, had beat her. Tears burst through and that was the beginning of the end.

 

“Enjoy your life asswipe,” she yelled out to Toni as she ran away, bawling.

 

She ran into the bathroom and threw her hair up in a messy bun. Washed her face of the caked mess. Tore off the cashmere sweater and string of pearls. She grabbed scissors out of her Gucci bag and cut holes in her hundred seventy five dollar Abercrombie jeans. All that was left was an evil grin and tattered clothes. She had removed all the work he had done to make her beautiful. But she was still beautiful on the inside… in her own special way. Ever since the entire five month episode happened Marie has been scared to talk to or even look at any guy in fear that he’ll be like Toni. She thought that all guys were self-centered, two-timing bastards, like Toni, but they weren’t. Harold wasn’t like Toni, he wasn’t a player. He was a rapist, a cold-blooded rapist. Nothing more and nothing less, just a plain and simple rapist. Her brain snapped back to reality. To the horrific room she now sat in. To the ongoing male problem she just COULD NOT get rid of.

 

Her thoughts snapped back to Harold as she heard him say, “Oh… my bad. Did I remind you of Toni?”

 

“What are you talking about!?” Her voice streaming with denial.

 

He let out a little snort as he spoke to her, saying, “Sweetie… almost three years now I’ve been stalking you. I know EVERYTHING about you.”

 

Flabbergasted, she let one silent tear fall upon her warm, freckled cheek. The one tear turned to sobs as her breathing became shorter and heavier. After a good half hour or so she had composed herself yet again.

 

She pondered the words he had spoken to her and thought, “Well, damm. Wonder why? Why me? WHY WHY WHY WHY and you know what you fucking asshole… WHY???” These were all directed towards God, she was a wee bit upset!

 

“Umm... so uh yea… WHY?” She screamed out to him.

 

“You’re puurrdy.”

 

“Okay… little creepy. Alright… way creepy,” she silently said inside her throbbing brain, which hurt from the trauma and pain Harold had caused. Along with all the thinking… she usually tried not to think. It was best.

 

“Hmph… pretty am I?”

“Nuh uh… puurrdy. I said you’re PURDY!!! In fact, you are so freaking purdy that I need your baby, our baby. I have something for you. Think of it as a lil’ welcoming gift. It’ll allow you to wander the house but NOWHERE else.” He pulled out a square, ankle brace as he let out a cynical chuckle, which made Marie shutter. “Hehe,” a huge smile plastered amongst his face, “a home tracking device! Perfect… just like you!”

 

“You are one sick fucking bastard, ya know that?” She angrily replied back to him.

 

“I fuck but I’m no sick bastard!” He jokingly said but there was no joke about it.

 

“Just put on the device and cut the ropes off. They hurt.”

 

“No please?”

 

“Fine... please.”

 

She had given up for now. Marie had to sit it out, obey his every command and wait. She had to wait until she could concoct a plan so devious that she could win. So that she could escape hell, another time. So she could live to tell it to all and hopefully watch him be killed, the way he killed what made her, well, her. He attached the heavy, square device and ‘beep’ the green light flashed, the tracking system was on. He took out his metallic, charcoal grey switchblade and cut loose the agonizing tweed ropes.

 

“Alright, here’s the rule sweetheart. Listen carefully.” He said while lifting up her chin so that her bloodshot eyes were directly looking at him and only him. “One, you cannot leave this house. Two, you listen to me. And three, follow the rules. If I come up with anything else I’ll let you know. Till’ then, explore the house, get some sleep and see you in the morning. And remember, don’t leave this house. That red light will turn on and you then got tres seconds to make back into the house or else.”

 

“Whoa… or else what?” She shockingly questioned.

 

“You die.” He said it so simply, as if it were a minuscule unimportance.

 

“Okay. Great… just greeeeeaaaaaaaa…” her thought trailed off as she fell into a deep slumber. She had a tough day after all.

 

They night turned to day as she opened her eyes. She was still in the chair and she hadn’t moved one centimeter all night. She didn’t even think Harold had touched her since their conversation had ended. She originally thought to stay there until she could come up with a plan but then she remembered what Harold had said.

 

“Eh… what the hell,” she contemplated.

 

She stood up and set off to explore the house. At first she had to sit back down because her legs weren’t awake yet… they were still rather lethargic. After a few minutes she was good to go and so she did.

© 2008

Top Users | Contact Us | Privacy | Terms | Advertise | Disclaimer