Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Yume Oboro ❯ Chapter 4
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Celestial Reign 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.09.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 182 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.09.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 182 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter Four
High school was so different. The teachers were different, the students were different, everything, everything about high school was like being dumped into another country and left on your own. Everywhere you went, people stared at you for what you were, they glared at you because you were different, looked away from you because you weren't one of them, alienated you because...because they could.
I had no friends, I had nobody there for me. Everyday at lunch, I always sat by myself. It didn't really matter, I guess. I always had my face stuffed into a book and I hardly ate anything. But then, I suppose it was my own fault, my own shyness. I was just expecting someone to randomly come up to me and start talking and then I would talk back. It didn't work that way, I realized all too late. I was just scared of these people, scared of what they would say if I tried to come up and...and be one of them. I hated being by myself. Books were fun for awhile, but it just got lonely sitting by myself all the time, only blending into the background as I watched tables full of teenagers laughing, whooping and hollering, spending time with each other.
Maybe I'm just a martyr. I wanted friends so bad, wanted to be able to sit down at a table with someone, even if we just discussed homework, and talk with them, be with them, just not be alone anymore.
I think Isis noticed my depression, heck, I know she noticed. She was always very observant and being the subtle being that I am, I sucked at hiding my emotions. My thoughts were only proven positive when she came into my room on the morning of my birthday and presented me with a large box. Confused and excited, I tore the paper open to see the box of a laptop. I had never been computer savvy, but Isis's job demanded it and she was forced to learn, so she used that knowledge to help me gain some experience as well.
It was hooked up on my desk, up and running perfectly, staring back at me with that beautiful black sheen that I could almost see my reflection in, and Isis moved next to me, bending over and kissing me on the top of my head. "Happy birthday, little brother."
I felt like I could cry. She was good to me, she really was, and I was so grateful for her.
I spent the next week wising myself up with it, learning how to get on the internet, learning about email (not that anyone would contact me), and I usually just spent all my time watching videos or listening to music. It was pretty simple once I got the hang of it, and Isis had to come in on a regular basis and tell me to get off, that I had spent all day on it and I would get fat if I didn't get up and exercise. I knew she was only joking, but I listened and started limiting my time until I would rarely even get on it.
About a month passed, nothing happened, and then I found out about chat rooms, a place you could go and talk to random people. I heard some kids rambling on about them at school, that they were usually just a place you went to discuss topics and input your opinion on the subject. I went home that night, thinking about it all day. A place you could just talk to people. They wouldn't know who you were, and you wouldn't know who they were. But, at least it would be just talking to someone, anyone, and that was better than being alone.
I mentioned it to Isis over dinner one night, having had the topic on my mind for almost a week, and she practically threw a fit, telling me I was NOT to go onto those things, that they were dangerous, that was how cyberstalkers found their prey, and I was just what they were looking for: a young, naïve teenager who was dumb enough to spill out personal information. She made me swear not to go onto one, swear never to talk to anyone I didn't know, and I swore.
I'm so stupid.
It hadn't been two days before I found myself too curious about it, just wanting to try it out. I mean, how did these people know I wasn't a stalker? It wouldn't hurt to just talk a little, it's not like I'd be going on there telling the whole world where I lived and what I looked like. And so there I was, signing into a chatroom, watching as those instant messages began popping up all over the place. It was a chatroom that rambled on about anime, so at least I knew half of what I was talking about and I easily found a spot I could cut into and start talking to people.
I was surprised by how vulgar people could be online. It was stupid stuff, just idiotic crap they were typing in that didn't even have anything to do with the anime, and I was about to close out of the internet, but a message popped up, addressed to me.
'hi. do u like this anime?'
I gulped, feeling nervous, but biting it down. Th-this was what I came here for, right? I wanted to talk to people, maybe even make some friends, and it wasn't like I would be telling them anything about myself. As long as I didn't do that, I didn't have to worry. I smiled, typing back my answer. 'Yeah, I like it, but it can get pretty dumb sometimes, don't you agree?'
'ugh totally the voice acting is horrible i hate it when america does all those crappy dubs takes out all the blood and tries to change peoples names. i think all anime should be just subtitled and if its too gory for kids then put it on at nighttime!'
I had to chuckle a little at that. This person shared the same views I did, it seemed. 'Yeah, I know what you mean, especially about the blood. It's kind of insulting to the original artist, don't you think? I mean, they're basically redoing everything and taking out all the good stuff.'
'i know! i hate that sooo much.'
The conversation droned on like that for quite awhile, and it ultimately led up to the person asking me for my email. I cringed, feeling sick, and politely typed back that I didn't feel comfortable about it. Thinking the person would get annoyed at me for being so cautious, I was shocked when they wrote back, 'oh okay i understand but hey if you want to talk ill be here on week nights im always on lol'
I felt a smile slide its way onto my face and typed back my affirmation. 'Sounds like a plan.'
Had I only known that the person I talked to that night had turned out to be a cyberstalker, that they hunted down stupid and vulnerable people like me, I would have wised up and gone far away, never signed back onto that chatroom again, I would have never woken up in this strange, Egyptian-looking bedroom with all its pyramids and gold decorating shelves and such, I would have never been lying here, crying like a baby, paralyzed, not even able to move and defend myself, and only able to wait until my captors returned and did whatever they decided to do to me.
I'm so stupid.
***
Every single day of my life, I dreaded coming home from school. It wasn't that I liked school any better, heck, I'd rather be anywhere than school, but then I'd rather be almost anywhere else than home because home was my living hell on earth.
I had no brothers or sisters, no cousins or aunts or uncles. I only had my dad, the person who had created my hell on earth.
I don't exactly remember when it started, hell, I was so unobservant, it had probably been going on for awhile and I never even realized it, but the day my mother took a knife from the kitchen and slit her own wrists while both Dad and I were out, he began to change for the worst. He started out with just drinking his sorrows away, leaving as soon as he got off work, and I barely saw him. He would always be there in the mornings, though, to see me off before I ran to catch the bus, and he was always his old, cheerful self.
How ignorant of me, to not see through that facade. I knew my dad, knew him like the back of my hand, but I only have myself to blame for not noticing how he would just up and leave, not come back for hours, always out drinking, I assumed, and it never occurred to me he'd be doing anything else.
It wasn't until I was finally slapped with the truth one night did I truly curse myself for not knowing all along what he'd been doing. Mom's death had devastated him, he loved her so, so much, and it had eaten away at him, caused him to spiral down into depression, and on those late nights when he would be out for hours on end, he'd be off doing drugs with whoever.
Stupid, stupid, I was so stupid not to have noticed when he would come in, babbling away, not even forming sentences or real words, and sway away to his bedroom. God, how could all that have gone right over my head? I suppose it only served me right when he finally snapped that one night, the night everything came crashing down, quite literally if I might add.
I had been cooking dinner, excited about a new recipe I'd found online, and I was leaning over the boiling pot, throwing in spices and whatever else the soup required. Dad had stomped into the kitchen, making me jump at the loud and unexpected noise and I almost tripped over the pot. I whirled around to face him, confused at his behavior, and only grew scared when I saw the wild look in his eyes, sharp with rage.
"What..." His voice was low, very, very low and almost beastly, and I could see the rings under his eyes, the tired and bloodshot look that haunted them. "What the...the fuck do you think you're doing, huh?" His face wasn't looking directly at me, and he didn't even appear to notice I was standing there, but I was the only one in the kitchen and I answered.
I gulped. Had I done something wrong? Dad was never angry, so this new demeanor scared the pee out of me. I gripped the spoon I'd been holding, squeezing like it was my lifeline. "I-I'm cooking dinner, Dad. Remember that soup I'd been telling you about? I was--"
He swayed over, gripping the counter for support until he could get his footing and then he moved onto me, grabbing my shoulders so hard, his nails dug into them and I bit my lip to keep from crying out, shaking, shaking because I was terrified. My dad never acted like this, so...why? I hadn't done anything wrong, why was he mad?
"I'm sick...and tired...of your stupid...stupid girly...habits..." His eyes weren't looking at me, they were far off, like his mind wasn't in the present, but somewhere else. His voice slurred as he spoke. "...Sick and fucking tired...of you...Mariku...hate you...I hate you...I hate you." His grip worsened and I did cry out that time, feeling his nails sink deep into my flesh and draw blood, and crying out was the wrong thing to do. I stared up, frozen with fear, as he dropped his head right into my face. "Sh-SHUT UP, MARIKU, WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING LIKE A GIRL, HUH?!" His big hand reached up and slapped me across the face, causing my head to twist and I choked out a sob, shaking, shaking like a jackhammer. Not giving me time to recover, he grabbed a handful of my flaxen hair and pulled my face up to his where he pounded my stomach with his other fist, and I choked out a cough, trying to bend over and cradle my stomach. "SHUT UP, MARIKU, YOU FUCKING STUPID LITTLE GIRL!" I couldn't help, God, I couldn't help it. I was-I was so scared, so scared right now, I couldn't move or say anything, just sit there like a child and dry sob while my dad pounded the living hell out of me.
I was thrown to the floor, bruised, sore, bleeding from my shoulders where he'd gripped them, and I looked up, horrified when I saw him smile, saw the wild look in his eyes, like an animal, as he picked up the pot of boiling water and threw it down onto me.
I don't think I'd ever screamed that loud before. The pain, oh my God, the pain was horrible, it burned, it burned, it hurt so much. The water spilled out when he threw it and it hit me directly on my bare arm, and it turned a deep red almost instantly upon contact. I was screaming, sobbing, choking on my breaths, and I scrambled to my feet, trying to get away from my dad, get away from that insane look in his eyes, and I kicked and punched at him when he tried to hold me down, laughing, laughing like this whole thing was just one sick joke for him.
I got away from him, ran far away from the kitchen, ran through the living room, tore open the front door, scrambled out and leaped down the front steps. I didn't know if he was chasing me, but even if he wasn't, I kept running, the only thing on my mind being to get as far away from him as possible.
My dad...he...he just threw a pot of boiling water on my arm. My arm, God, it hurt, it was red, it burned, it stung, it hurt so much, and I sobbed and whimpered with pain. What was wrong with him? He...that wasn't my dad, he'd never act like...like a freaking psycho like that. That wasn't my dad, that wasn't my dad, he wasn't him!
I stopped running, stopping just on the outskirts of a park where a couple of kids were playing, running around, laughing, and I sank down next to a tree, bringing my legs up to my chin and sobbing into my knees.
I needed ice, I needed some now, just a little to dull the pain in my arm. God, it hurt, it was burning continuously, and I moaned in pain when I stared down at it, wincing just from looking at it. I swallowed down some sobs. I couldn't go home, I didn't want to go back to that psycho, but...where could I go?
I looked around the park, at the little girls who were running around, chasing each other and letting out high-pitched squeals, and I dug through my pocket, fishing out my phone and calling the one person I knew would help me.
It rang and rang and I feared it wouldn't be picked up, but then relief washed over me when I feminine voice answered, "Hello?"
I smiled, still feeling tears slither their way down, and gripped the phone, trying not to hiss in pain. "K-Kisara, I need your help."
Her voice became frantic. "Mariku? What's going on? What'd you do?"
A small pause, and then no hesitation when I spoke. "I burned myself. Can I come over?"
***
Go to sleep, he'd said. Try and do something while we're gone, he'd said. Nobody...nobody knows your here, he'd said.
I almost sobbed again, feeling fear rear its ugly head back up for about the thousandth time this evening. I had been left alone in an Egyptian-styled bedroom, left alone while those two people went out and did whatever, left alone with some sort of drug coursing through my veins, causing paralysis, and I couldn't move, couldn't will my body back to life to help save me, help me get away, so I just lay there like a doll, sobbing quietly to myself, worried sick about Isis. Oh Isis, you'd come home only to find that I wasn't there and I knew you'd try my phone, only to get no one, because that lady had it. You'd worry yourself over me, and I had no way of contacting you.
It wouldn't matter, I supposed, if I had contacted Isis. These people would kill me, I know they would. They were only torturing me with this, letting me live in fear while they drew it out as much as possible until they came back and shot me, stabbed me, did whatever they would do and killed me. I shuddered at the thought, of how they would kill me. If they were as psychotic as they were sadistic, then there would be a lot of blood. Heaps of it, and I choked, slamming my eyes shut. God, it was all I could think about! Because I was going to die. I had stupidly given away private information, talked to someone for a long time whom I believed to be a friend, and they...God I felt sick, they turned out to be a grown man and his lady friend. God, how sick was this world?
It even scared me more that the one who I had been talking to online for so long, the one who called themselves Alice, turned out to be the man. I shivered when I remembered his eyes on me, those piercing, stabbing lavender eyes that showed no sympathy, that bore right through me. I let a few tears escape. He...he terrified me possibly even more than the woman had. She only showed scorn for me and looked like she wanted nothing more than to slice my neck open. But the man...the man's eyes chilled me to the bone. He smiled at me in a disturbing way, a way that clearly spelled, 'You are mine', and I shook once more.
Was...was I going to be raped by him? I had tried blocking the thought, concentrating more on them killing me and leaving it at that, but oh God...would he? I shook my head, driving the thoughts away. I couldn't....I just couldn't. I had to think of something else. I had to escape because I didn't want to die. As much as my life sucked, I wanted to live, live with my sister, go to school, go to college, maybe get a girlfriend if I got lucky enough and I wasn't about to let my own stupidity be my downfall.
I lifted my head up as far as it could go, which wasn't very in the least. My muscles were refusing, but I found that I could move little parts, like my fingers and toes, if I concentrated hard enough.
I had given up from the start, succumbing to the drug, believing there was no hope and that I was as good as dead, but the longer those people stayed away, the longer I was left there alone on that bed, I grew angry, angry at myself for my actions, and I was going to fix them. I still had time. I could...I could beat this, I could beat it.
My fingers twitched just a little, but it was movement and I grew more desperate, moving them back and forth, trying to take it up a step and move my arm. That stuff he'd given me...he'd given it to me a while ago and I felt horrible. My body was as numb as it could be, but over time, I grew feeling back into everything until it no longer felt like my head was floating away from my body. I took that as a sign that the drug was wearing off and set to work trying to move. What a creep he was, doing this to me, making me into his personal live doll.
My arm...my arm actually moved and I cried out in relief, smiling when I was able to lift it off the bed. Oh God, things were looking up! I just--I just had to keep thinking positive and things would be okay...things would be okay, I-I would be okay...
My other arm was up, and I continued exercising my whole body, moving everything over and over, testing my muscles, doing stretches and other things to get it moving again, and I almost sobbed in relief when I stood off the bed, albeit wobbly and uncoordinated, but still standing. I bolted toward the door, tripping and falling on my face before I even broke into a run. Crap, my legs were still a little numb and shaking, but I slapped my hands on the ground, determined to stand this time and stay standing. My arms shook, not wanting to support my weight, but I forced them to pull me all the way up and I was standing this time, getting agitated when I forced myself to walk out of the room this time.
The rest of the house was...normal. No strange Egyptian-looking artifacts hanging around, no gold trimmings on the walls, no weird knickknacks decorating the shelves. Just a kitchen in front of me, a living room in front of that, and...the front door!
I dashed again, concentrating hard on keeping my legs strong to support me, and my hand grasped the doorknob. Free...free...free...I WAS ABOUT TO BE FREE!
And then the sounds of a car pulling up, my heart skipped a beat and I froze, hand still gripping the doorknob in mid-turn. Indistinct voices, car doors slamming shut, and footsteps crunching down on gravel.
They...they were back. "Fuck," I breathed, heart pounding in my ears. Shit, SHIT, I was so close! Dammit, why?
Their voices were getting closer and I panicked. Hide, just hide, Malik, and hope they don't find you. I whipped around, my legs shaking and almost fell over again, but I had adrenaline pumping me this time and I moved into a nearby room, away from the front door, and flung open another door that led to a bathroom. I saw a closet, and instantly dove into it. God, such a predictable hiding place, but maybe...maybe I would get lucky...? I knew my thoughts were shot down the second I dove into that closet. There was nothing there to hide me, no clothes I could scramble on top of me to make me blend in. I was...I was a sitting duck, waiting to be found and shot down, but I held my breath anyway, sinking down onto my knees, shaking like a leaf when I could hear the front door and the those two as they laughed loudly about something.
Their voices were fading away and it appeared they had gone to the other side of the house. A thought flew through my head. Instead of sitting here waiting to be found, if I could be quiet enough, maybe I could sneak out the door while they were busy on the other side of the house. I held my breath again, wanting to vomit, and felt butterflies galore flock all around my stomach. It was worth a shot, and if I failed, then at least I would have tried, I wouldn't have sat here like an idiot in a closet that would surely be one of the first places they looked.
I had to hurry. I opened the door as quietly as I could, no longer hearing their voices, and tiptoed back out of the bathroom, looking around the corner to see that no one was there and I could only assume they were indeed on the other side, probably going into the room I was in right now. Go faster, faster, Malik! They'll catch you any second! I swallowed a sob and made it to the door, not hearing anything, and possibly even more scared when I couldn't hear their voices. They hadn't gone back outside, had they?
I couldn't risk it, I had to go now! I wrenched the door open, hyperventilating, made to run outside, and crashed right into a body I didn't see, screaming in shock when I did and almost falling backwards when my knees buckled.
A large hand reached out and nabbed both my wrists, bringing me up to the face of the man who was grinning wildly. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Fear, fear, scared, scared, going to throw up, God, don't throw up, Malik! I screamed, thrashing around, getting tired almost instantly when my muscles were worked to an excruciating amount. "STOP IT! LET ME GO! LET ME GO! GOD, I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!" I was crying again, trying to yank my wrists out of the man's grip, but all my thrashing, kicking, screaming, nothing was fazing him. He stood there like a statue, smiling down at me while he held onto me with little effort. "D-DON'T KILL ME, DON'T KILL ME!"
I was tugged forward, meeting the man's broad chest and his long arms flew around my back, trapping me there, pulling me close to him. I stopped all resistance, terrified, frozen, and shook uncontrollably, tiny sobs making their way out. "God, you're beautiful, Malik." I felt his face dig into my hair and he inhaled, moaning and making me sick again. "I'm not going to kill you."
Lies, he was lying. I was as good as dead and I knew it and he knew it. Don't lie to me, don't try to give me false hopes when you know it's cruel. Just...just don't do it. I began crying again, shaking in the man's grip, shivering, hiccupping, and I was so pathetic.
"Shh, don't cry, Malik." His fingers found the back of my hair and he played with it, combing those long digits through it like that would comfort me. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Why...? Why speak so tenderly? I was wiser now, I knew this was all fake. Don't try to trick me, dammit, don't take me for a fool anymore.
"Shh, don't worry, we won't hurt you. Just relax."
And then I was lifted into his arms and I broke down, scared, too scared to move, too tired to fight back, and I let him carry me back into the house, back into that golden room, back to that bed where he laid me down.
The woman was there, Kisara, and her arms were crossed again, a grin sliding onto her face. "Told you the little dick would make a run for it." She glared at me with her cold eyes. "You're lucky you didn't get very far, kid. We might have just shot you in the back for it."
I quaked, but the man, Mariku, rolled his eyes and sat behind me, stroking the sides of my arms. "Kisara, he's scared enough, don't tell him any of your crap."
Her glare redirected to him and they stared at each other for awhile, as if speaking silently, and she sighed, walking out of the room. "I'm going out for a walk. You two do whatever." The door was slammed upon her departure and I think I felt even more scared with her not there, of being alone in a bedroom with this man behind me, the one whose fingers were rubbing up and down the sides of my arms.
I shook, tears falling down, but didn't sob, didn't choke. I was frozen, and those tears just fell on their own, but he turned my face around to face him, pulling me into his lap at the same time. I was frozen at that smile he gave me.
His horrible, horrible lips were on mine again and I wished more than anything I could be sick, but I sat there and let him do it, so, so scared, I couldn't move. "I love you, Malik, and I won't hurt you. Don't be scared of me. I love you."
I wished I could've passed out, least then I wouldn't have to feel those warm lips on mine as he kissed me over and over.
I just cried into his chest when he pulled me close, resting his chin on my shoulder, smelling of my hair and running his fingers through it again like he couldn't get enough of it. "I love you," he whispered into my ear, pressing his lips to it.
I knew then. I had tried to block it out of my mind, think that there was hope, but now the truth was clearer than ever. I was...I wasn't getting away and I was stupid for thinking I could. Why couldn't I figure these things out sooner?
I was horrified of Mariku's kisses, but I didn't do anything about it, I couldn't. I was too weak. If he hadn't of drugged me, maybe I could've made it out of here, maybe I could've fought him and gotten away.
But his kisses were haunting, his caresses chilling, and I sat there in his lap, letting him pet me and hug me and kiss me.
I was so pathetic. I sobbed.
High school was so different. The teachers were different, the students were different, everything, everything about high school was like being dumped into another country and left on your own. Everywhere you went, people stared at you for what you were, they glared at you because you were different, looked away from you because you weren't one of them, alienated you because...because they could.
I had no friends, I had nobody there for me. Everyday at lunch, I always sat by myself. It didn't really matter, I guess. I always had my face stuffed into a book and I hardly ate anything. But then, I suppose it was my own fault, my own shyness. I was just expecting someone to randomly come up to me and start talking and then I would talk back. It didn't work that way, I realized all too late. I was just scared of these people, scared of what they would say if I tried to come up and...and be one of them. I hated being by myself. Books were fun for awhile, but it just got lonely sitting by myself all the time, only blending into the background as I watched tables full of teenagers laughing, whooping and hollering, spending time with each other.
Maybe I'm just a martyr. I wanted friends so bad, wanted to be able to sit down at a table with someone, even if we just discussed homework, and talk with them, be with them, just not be alone anymore.
I think Isis noticed my depression, heck, I know she noticed. She was always very observant and being the subtle being that I am, I sucked at hiding my emotions. My thoughts were only proven positive when she came into my room on the morning of my birthday and presented me with a large box. Confused and excited, I tore the paper open to see the box of a laptop. I had never been computer savvy, but Isis's job demanded it and she was forced to learn, so she used that knowledge to help me gain some experience as well.
It was hooked up on my desk, up and running perfectly, staring back at me with that beautiful black sheen that I could almost see my reflection in, and Isis moved next to me, bending over and kissing me on the top of my head. "Happy birthday, little brother."
I felt like I could cry. She was good to me, she really was, and I was so grateful for her.
I spent the next week wising myself up with it, learning how to get on the internet, learning about email (not that anyone would contact me), and I usually just spent all my time watching videos or listening to music. It was pretty simple once I got the hang of it, and Isis had to come in on a regular basis and tell me to get off, that I had spent all day on it and I would get fat if I didn't get up and exercise. I knew she was only joking, but I listened and started limiting my time until I would rarely even get on it.
About a month passed, nothing happened, and then I found out about chat rooms, a place you could go and talk to random people. I heard some kids rambling on about them at school, that they were usually just a place you went to discuss topics and input your opinion on the subject. I went home that night, thinking about it all day. A place you could just talk to people. They wouldn't know who you were, and you wouldn't know who they were. But, at least it would be just talking to someone, anyone, and that was better than being alone.
I mentioned it to Isis over dinner one night, having had the topic on my mind for almost a week, and she practically threw a fit, telling me I was NOT to go onto those things, that they were dangerous, that was how cyberstalkers found their prey, and I was just what they were looking for: a young, naïve teenager who was dumb enough to spill out personal information. She made me swear not to go onto one, swear never to talk to anyone I didn't know, and I swore.
I'm so stupid.
It hadn't been two days before I found myself too curious about it, just wanting to try it out. I mean, how did these people know I wasn't a stalker? It wouldn't hurt to just talk a little, it's not like I'd be going on there telling the whole world where I lived and what I looked like. And so there I was, signing into a chatroom, watching as those instant messages began popping up all over the place. It was a chatroom that rambled on about anime, so at least I knew half of what I was talking about and I easily found a spot I could cut into and start talking to people.
I was surprised by how vulgar people could be online. It was stupid stuff, just idiotic crap they were typing in that didn't even have anything to do with the anime, and I was about to close out of the internet, but a message popped up, addressed to me.
'hi. do u like this anime?'
I gulped, feeling nervous, but biting it down. Th-this was what I came here for, right? I wanted to talk to people, maybe even make some friends, and it wasn't like I would be telling them anything about myself. As long as I didn't do that, I didn't have to worry. I smiled, typing back my answer. 'Yeah, I like it, but it can get pretty dumb sometimes, don't you agree?'
'ugh totally the voice acting is horrible i hate it when america does all those crappy dubs takes out all the blood and tries to change peoples names. i think all anime should be just subtitled and if its too gory for kids then put it on at nighttime!'
I had to chuckle a little at that. This person shared the same views I did, it seemed. 'Yeah, I know what you mean, especially about the blood. It's kind of insulting to the original artist, don't you think? I mean, they're basically redoing everything and taking out all the good stuff.'
'i know! i hate that sooo much.'
The conversation droned on like that for quite awhile, and it ultimately led up to the person asking me for my email. I cringed, feeling sick, and politely typed back that I didn't feel comfortable about it. Thinking the person would get annoyed at me for being so cautious, I was shocked when they wrote back, 'oh okay i understand but hey if you want to talk ill be here on week nights im always on lol'
I felt a smile slide its way onto my face and typed back my affirmation. 'Sounds like a plan.'
Had I only known that the person I talked to that night had turned out to be a cyberstalker, that they hunted down stupid and vulnerable people like me, I would have wised up and gone far away, never signed back onto that chatroom again, I would have never woken up in this strange, Egyptian-looking bedroom with all its pyramids and gold decorating shelves and such, I would have never been lying here, crying like a baby, paralyzed, not even able to move and defend myself, and only able to wait until my captors returned and did whatever they decided to do to me.
I'm so stupid.
***
Every single day of my life, I dreaded coming home from school. It wasn't that I liked school any better, heck, I'd rather be anywhere than school, but then I'd rather be almost anywhere else than home because home was my living hell on earth.
I had no brothers or sisters, no cousins or aunts or uncles. I only had my dad, the person who had created my hell on earth.
I don't exactly remember when it started, hell, I was so unobservant, it had probably been going on for awhile and I never even realized it, but the day my mother took a knife from the kitchen and slit her own wrists while both Dad and I were out, he began to change for the worst. He started out with just drinking his sorrows away, leaving as soon as he got off work, and I barely saw him. He would always be there in the mornings, though, to see me off before I ran to catch the bus, and he was always his old, cheerful self.
How ignorant of me, to not see through that facade. I knew my dad, knew him like the back of my hand, but I only have myself to blame for not noticing how he would just up and leave, not come back for hours, always out drinking, I assumed, and it never occurred to me he'd be doing anything else.
It wasn't until I was finally slapped with the truth one night did I truly curse myself for not knowing all along what he'd been doing. Mom's death had devastated him, he loved her so, so much, and it had eaten away at him, caused him to spiral down into depression, and on those late nights when he would be out for hours on end, he'd be off doing drugs with whoever.
Stupid, stupid, I was so stupid not to have noticed when he would come in, babbling away, not even forming sentences or real words, and sway away to his bedroom. God, how could all that have gone right over my head? I suppose it only served me right when he finally snapped that one night, the night everything came crashing down, quite literally if I might add.
I had been cooking dinner, excited about a new recipe I'd found online, and I was leaning over the boiling pot, throwing in spices and whatever else the soup required. Dad had stomped into the kitchen, making me jump at the loud and unexpected noise and I almost tripped over the pot. I whirled around to face him, confused at his behavior, and only grew scared when I saw the wild look in his eyes, sharp with rage.
"What..." His voice was low, very, very low and almost beastly, and I could see the rings under his eyes, the tired and bloodshot look that haunted them. "What the...the fuck do you think you're doing, huh?" His face wasn't looking directly at me, and he didn't even appear to notice I was standing there, but I was the only one in the kitchen and I answered.
I gulped. Had I done something wrong? Dad was never angry, so this new demeanor scared the pee out of me. I gripped the spoon I'd been holding, squeezing like it was my lifeline. "I-I'm cooking dinner, Dad. Remember that soup I'd been telling you about? I was--"
He swayed over, gripping the counter for support until he could get his footing and then he moved onto me, grabbing my shoulders so hard, his nails dug into them and I bit my lip to keep from crying out, shaking, shaking because I was terrified. My dad never acted like this, so...why? I hadn't done anything wrong, why was he mad?
"I'm sick...and tired...of your stupid...stupid girly...habits..." His eyes weren't looking at me, they were far off, like his mind wasn't in the present, but somewhere else. His voice slurred as he spoke. "...Sick and fucking tired...of you...Mariku...hate you...I hate you...I hate you." His grip worsened and I did cry out that time, feeling his nails sink deep into my flesh and draw blood, and crying out was the wrong thing to do. I stared up, frozen with fear, as he dropped his head right into my face. "Sh-SHUT UP, MARIKU, WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING LIKE A GIRL, HUH?!" His big hand reached up and slapped me across the face, causing my head to twist and I choked out a sob, shaking, shaking like a jackhammer. Not giving me time to recover, he grabbed a handful of my flaxen hair and pulled my face up to his where he pounded my stomach with his other fist, and I choked out a cough, trying to bend over and cradle my stomach. "SHUT UP, MARIKU, YOU FUCKING STUPID LITTLE GIRL!" I couldn't help, God, I couldn't help it. I was-I was so scared, so scared right now, I couldn't move or say anything, just sit there like a child and dry sob while my dad pounded the living hell out of me.
I was thrown to the floor, bruised, sore, bleeding from my shoulders where he'd gripped them, and I looked up, horrified when I saw him smile, saw the wild look in his eyes, like an animal, as he picked up the pot of boiling water and threw it down onto me.
I don't think I'd ever screamed that loud before. The pain, oh my God, the pain was horrible, it burned, it burned, it hurt so much. The water spilled out when he threw it and it hit me directly on my bare arm, and it turned a deep red almost instantly upon contact. I was screaming, sobbing, choking on my breaths, and I scrambled to my feet, trying to get away from my dad, get away from that insane look in his eyes, and I kicked and punched at him when he tried to hold me down, laughing, laughing like this whole thing was just one sick joke for him.
I got away from him, ran far away from the kitchen, ran through the living room, tore open the front door, scrambled out and leaped down the front steps. I didn't know if he was chasing me, but even if he wasn't, I kept running, the only thing on my mind being to get as far away from him as possible.
My dad...he...he just threw a pot of boiling water on my arm. My arm, God, it hurt, it was red, it burned, it stung, it hurt so much, and I sobbed and whimpered with pain. What was wrong with him? He...that wasn't my dad, he'd never act like...like a freaking psycho like that. That wasn't my dad, that wasn't my dad, he wasn't him!
I stopped running, stopping just on the outskirts of a park where a couple of kids were playing, running around, laughing, and I sank down next to a tree, bringing my legs up to my chin and sobbing into my knees.
I needed ice, I needed some now, just a little to dull the pain in my arm. God, it hurt, it was burning continuously, and I moaned in pain when I stared down at it, wincing just from looking at it. I swallowed down some sobs. I couldn't go home, I didn't want to go back to that psycho, but...where could I go?
I looked around the park, at the little girls who were running around, chasing each other and letting out high-pitched squeals, and I dug through my pocket, fishing out my phone and calling the one person I knew would help me.
It rang and rang and I feared it wouldn't be picked up, but then relief washed over me when I feminine voice answered, "Hello?"
I smiled, still feeling tears slither their way down, and gripped the phone, trying not to hiss in pain. "K-Kisara, I need your help."
Her voice became frantic. "Mariku? What's going on? What'd you do?"
A small pause, and then no hesitation when I spoke. "I burned myself. Can I come over?"
***
Go to sleep, he'd said. Try and do something while we're gone, he'd said. Nobody...nobody knows your here, he'd said.
I almost sobbed again, feeling fear rear its ugly head back up for about the thousandth time this evening. I had been left alone in an Egyptian-styled bedroom, left alone while those two people went out and did whatever, left alone with some sort of drug coursing through my veins, causing paralysis, and I couldn't move, couldn't will my body back to life to help save me, help me get away, so I just lay there like a doll, sobbing quietly to myself, worried sick about Isis. Oh Isis, you'd come home only to find that I wasn't there and I knew you'd try my phone, only to get no one, because that lady had it. You'd worry yourself over me, and I had no way of contacting you.
It wouldn't matter, I supposed, if I had contacted Isis. These people would kill me, I know they would. They were only torturing me with this, letting me live in fear while they drew it out as much as possible until they came back and shot me, stabbed me, did whatever they would do and killed me. I shuddered at the thought, of how they would kill me. If they were as psychotic as they were sadistic, then there would be a lot of blood. Heaps of it, and I choked, slamming my eyes shut. God, it was all I could think about! Because I was going to die. I had stupidly given away private information, talked to someone for a long time whom I believed to be a friend, and they...God I felt sick, they turned out to be a grown man and his lady friend. God, how sick was this world?
It even scared me more that the one who I had been talking to online for so long, the one who called themselves Alice, turned out to be the man. I shivered when I remembered his eyes on me, those piercing, stabbing lavender eyes that showed no sympathy, that bore right through me. I let a few tears escape. He...he terrified me possibly even more than the woman had. She only showed scorn for me and looked like she wanted nothing more than to slice my neck open. But the man...the man's eyes chilled me to the bone. He smiled at me in a disturbing way, a way that clearly spelled, 'You are mine', and I shook once more.
Was...was I going to be raped by him? I had tried blocking the thought, concentrating more on them killing me and leaving it at that, but oh God...would he? I shook my head, driving the thoughts away. I couldn't....I just couldn't. I had to think of something else. I had to escape because I didn't want to die. As much as my life sucked, I wanted to live, live with my sister, go to school, go to college, maybe get a girlfriend if I got lucky enough and I wasn't about to let my own stupidity be my downfall.
I lifted my head up as far as it could go, which wasn't very in the least. My muscles were refusing, but I found that I could move little parts, like my fingers and toes, if I concentrated hard enough.
I had given up from the start, succumbing to the drug, believing there was no hope and that I was as good as dead, but the longer those people stayed away, the longer I was left there alone on that bed, I grew angry, angry at myself for my actions, and I was going to fix them. I still had time. I could...I could beat this, I could beat it.
My fingers twitched just a little, but it was movement and I grew more desperate, moving them back and forth, trying to take it up a step and move my arm. That stuff he'd given me...he'd given it to me a while ago and I felt horrible. My body was as numb as it could be, but over time, I grew feeling back into everything until it no longer felt like my head was floating away from my body. I took that as a sign that the drug was wearing off and set to work trying to move. What a creep he was, doing this to me, making me into his personal live doll.
My arm...my arm actually moved and I cried out in relief, smiling when I was able to lift it off the bed. Oh God, things were looking up! I just--I just had to keep thinking positive and things would be okay...things would be okay, I-I would be okay...
My other arm was up, and I continued exercising my whole body, moving everything over and over, testing my muscles, doing stretches and other things to get it moving again, and I almost sobbed in relief when I stood off the bed, albeit wobbly and uncoordinated, but still standing. I bolted toward the door, tripping and falling on my face before I even broke into a run. Crap, my legs were still a little numb and shaking, but I slapped my hands on the ground, determined to stand this time and stay standing. My arms shook, not wanting to support my weight, but I forced them to pull me all the way up and I was standing this time, getting agitated when I forced myself to walk out of the room this time.
The rest of the house was...normal. No strange Egyptian-looking artifacts hanging around, no gold trimmings on the walls, no weird knickknacks decorating the shelves. Just a kitchen in front of me, a living room in front of that, and...the front door!
I dashed again, concentrating hard on keeping my legs strong to support me, and my hand grasped the doorknob. Free...free...free...I WAS ABOUT TO BE FREE!
And then the sounds of a car pulling up, my heart skipped a beat and I froze, hand still gripping the doorknob in mid-turn. Indistinct voices, car doors slamming shut, and footsteps crunching down on gravel.
They...they were back. "Fuck," I breathed, heart pounding in my ears. Shit, SHIT, I was so close! Dammit, why?
Their voices were getting closer and I panicked. Hide, just hide, Malik, and hope they don't find you. I whipped around, my legs shaking and almost fell over again, but I had adrenaline pumping me this time and I moved into a nearby room, away from the front door, and flung open another door that led to a bathroom. I saw a closet, and instantly dove into it. God, such a predictable hiding place, but maybe...maybe I would get lucky...? I knew my thoughts were shot down the second I dove into that closet. There was nothing there to hide me, no clothes I could scramble on top of me to make me blend in. I was...I was a sitting duck, waiting to be found and shot down, but I held my breath anyway, sinking down onto my knees, shaking like a leaf when I could hear the front door and the those two as they laughed loudly about something.
Their voices were fading away and it appeared they had gone to the other side of the house. A thought flew through my head. Instead of sitting here waiting to be found, if I could be quiet enough, maybe I could sneak out the door while they were busy on the other side of the house. I held my breath again, wanting to vomit, and felt butterflies galore flock all around my stomach. It was worth a shot, and if I failed, then at least I would have tried, I wouldn't have sat here like an idiot in a closet that would surely be one of the first places they looked.
I had to hurry. I opened the door as quietly as I could, no longer hearing their voices, and tiptoed back out of the bathroom, looking around the corner to see that no one was there and I could only assume they were indeed on the other side, probably going into the room I was in right now. Go faster, faster, Malik! They'll catch you any second! I swallowed a sob and made it to the door, not hearing anything, and possibly even more scared when I couldn't hear their voices. They hadn't gone back outside, had they?
I couldn't risk it, I had to go now! I wrenched the door open, hyperventilating, made to run outside, and crashed right into a body I didn't see, screaming in shock when I did and almost falling backwards when my knees buckled.
A large hand reached out and nabbed both my wrists, bringing me up to the face of the man who was grinning wildly. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Fear, fear, scared, scared, going to throw up, God, don't throw up, Malik! I screamed, thrashing around, getting tired almost instantly when my muscles were worked to an excruciating amount. "STOP IT! LET ME GO! LET ME GO! GOD, I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!" I was crying again, trying to yank my wrists out of the man's grip, but all my thrashing, kicking, screaming, nothing was fazing him. He stood there like a statue, smiling down at me while he held onto me with little effort. "D-DON'T KILL ME, DON'T KILL ME!"
I was tugged forward, meeting the man's broad chest and his long arms flew around my back, trapping me there, pulling me close to him. I stopped all resistance, terrified, frozen, and shook uncontrollably, tiny sobs making their way out. "God, you're beautiful, Malik." I felt his face dig into my hair and he inhaled, moaning and making me sick again. "I'm not going to kill you."
Lies, he was lying. I was as good as dead and I knew it and he knew it. Don't lie to me, don't try to give me false hopes when you know it's cruel. Just...just don't do it. I began crying again, shaking in the man's grip, shivering, hiccupping, and I was so pathetic.
"Shh, don't cry, Malik." His fingers found the back of my hair and he played with it, combing those long digits through it like that would comfort me. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Why...? Why speak so tenderly? I was wiser now, I knew this was all fake. Don't try to trick me, dammit, don't take me for a fool anymore.
"Shh, don't worry, we won't hurt you. Just relax."
And then I was lifted into his arms and I broke down, scared, too scared to move, too tired to fight back, and I let him carry me back into the house, back into that golden room, back to that bed where he laid me down.
The woman was there, Kisara, and her arms were crossed again, a grin sliding onto her face. "Told you the little dick would make a run for it." She glared at me with her cold eyes. "You're lucky you didn't get very far, kid. We might have just shot you in the back for it."
I quaked, but the man, Mariku, rolled his eyes and sat behind me, stroking the sides of my arms. "Kisara, he's scared enough, don't tell him any of your crap."
Her glare redirected to him and they stared at each other for awhile, as if speaking silently, and she sighed, walking out of the room. "I'm going out for a walk. You two do whatever." The door was slammed upon her departure and I think I felt even more scared with her not there, of being alone in a bedroom with this man behind me, the one whose fingers were rubbing up and down the sides of my arms.
I shook, tears falling down, but didn't sob, didn't choke. I was frozen, and those tears just fell on their own, but he turned my face around to face him, pulling me into his lap at the same time. I was frozen at that smile he gave me.
His horrible, horrible lips were on mine again and I wished more than anything I could be sick, but I sat there and let him do it, so, so scared, I couldn't move. "I love you, Malik, and I won't hurt you. Don't be scared of me. I love you."
I wished I could've passed out, least then I wouldn't have to feel those warm lips on mine as he kissed me over and over.
I just cried into his chest when he pulled me close, resting his chin on my shoulder, smelling of my hair and running his fingers through it again like he couldn't get enough of it. "I love you," he whispered into my ear, pressing his lips to it.
I knew then. I had tried to block it out of my mind, think that there was hope, but now the truth was clearer than ever. I was...I wasn't getting away and I was stupid for thinking I could. Why couldn't I figure these things out sooner?
I was horrified of Mariku's kisses, but I didn't do anything about it, I couldn't. I was too weak. If he hadn't of drugged me, maybe I could've made it out of here, maybe I could've fought him and gotten away.
But his kisses were haunting, his caresses chilling, and I sat there in his lap, letting him pet me and hug me and kiss me.
I was so pathetic. I sobbed.