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thevickb

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“I’m waiting.” he said again, tapping his foot in the ground with impatience. A feeling of nausea swept through. Me. My throat burned like it was on fire. I couldn’t stand this man. I didn’t care who he was or how powerful, I hated him with every fibre of my being. Every little touch of his hard, cold hands made my skin crawl. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up whenever he was near.

I shook my head at him, trying to find the words to tell him no. I knew he was going to make this whole thing a lot harder for me now. But anything had to be better than losing my dignity and pride. That’s all I had. At least I knew what it meant to have that at least.

“Suit yourself. Come on then. May as well get this started.” My heart beat faster. My forehead seemed to burn up and I suddenly felt very dizzy. Not now. Please not now. I knew this was going to happen, but that didn’t mean I wanted it to. He made a grab for my hand, but I backed away from him in time. He knew my father had to be there. He’d not let me do it alone without him.

“Now? You can’t. My father….” I began, thinking of some excuse. I was not going to let him be alone with me, especially once I became more vulnerable

“Leonard really doesn’t need to know, does he? You and I both know how obsessed he gets, it would be best if I just left him out of it this time.” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

“Where is he? What have you done to him?” I asked, my father should be here. He always was.

“Nothing. Nothing that will cause him any harm. You don’t have to worry about that.” His grin grew bigger. There’d had to be something he wasn’t telling me. He never smiled.

He paused for a while, not moving. Then he grabbed me arm so fast that I didn’t have time to back away. He held it tight, keeping a good grip on it. I couldn’t get out of this now. I didn’t say anything, didn’t cry for help. What would be the point? No one would help me. I just let him lead me out of the door. I knew what would happen if I struggled.

He led me through the dark and dusty corridors and up another flight of stairs. We past many rooms as we walked by. There was a room that had more than twenty beds in it. Rooms that were filled with instruments and weird equipment that I didn’t understand. There was even a room that just consisted of a small chair, nothing else. The walls were grey and grimed with dirt and the stone floor looked years old. The front of the door had a big, heavy lock on it that looked rusty and unmoveable. I shuddered, thinking about who’d been locked up in that room and why. I could imagine their fists banging on the door, pleading to be let out. Their fingers scratching hard on the wooden door.

Even my own room wasn’t that great. I could tell that most of the rooms in this place hadn’t been done up. The only room that I knew of in this place that was fully decorated was the dining area. I didn’t know what my father’s room was like, or the doctors when he decided to stay a few nights. Though one of my favourite rooms was the library.

I’d always go there when my father let me out. I loved it there, though I didn’t think he’d be pleased if he knew about it. It was the only place I could learn about things, about life and what it was like. I was so glad that he’d taught me to read, that was one of the things I appreciated about my father. He cared enough about me to educate me on that part. I’d usually stay therefore hours, until my father called me, taking a book and hiding it under my top. I’d sometimes even play a game with myself, acting like a spy. I’d pretend that the book was a treasured object, some sort of jewel that I had to keep it hidden from the evils of the doctor and my father. I’d think of new hiding places every time, hiding it in places they couldn’t ever imagine.

But I didn't play it so much now. I’d mostly sit on my bed, mostly thinking about life and why I even existed. I knew there had to be something better than this. I was just waiting for something, or someone to come along. As if my life wasn’t complete.