Enjoy
Oh, and no, this isn't going to be a Far Cry 3 except with a girl protagonist. (no matter how much I whine that I wanted to play as a girl in Far Cry 3) Just thought I ought to put that out. Thanks for the kind reviews by the way! They made my day!
Who, what, when, where and how; those are the only words I heard when I returned from Rook Island.
Everyone, from my parents, to my friends to my pretend-friends all asked the same questions.
Who, what, when, where how.
"Who was that man who kept sending the ransom videos?"
"What was it like being held captive by a madman?"
"When did you realize that he was planning on selling you to slavery once they got the ransom money?"
"Where did he keep you?"
"How did you escape?"
Each and every time, I find that I only had one answer: "I don't know."
Despite my discouraging answer, they always wait for more details.
See, the thing with most people is that they don't really want answers so much as they want a story, which is a really different thing.
They want a beginning, a middle and an ending, all neatly wrapped up and condensed into five minutes of early news that they can watch over their morning coffee; the anecdote version of a public bathroom quickie—over before it began, and complete with the lingering feeling of emptiness afterwards.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to give you the godda-the story the way you want me to. It doesn't come in a cute little box with all the pieces perfectly put together so you can coo about it.
I'm not even sure there is a story anymore.
I just...want these things, these words and these images out of my head. They've been in my mind ever since I left Rook Island and they won't leave me alone.
Who, what, when, where, how.
The media does so love to ask these questions.
So does my psychiatrist.
So do my parents.
The sad part is, I don't know the answer. I don't have much recollections of Rook Island, more like fragments of it. These fragments are particularly bad at night, where they burrow and twist into my brain like slivers of broken glass.
I just want to get them out.
Upon Waking
If my hands weren't tied behind my back, I'm pretty sure that I would have cut off my own ears. The walls of the shack that we were being kept in were thin, and I could hear the sound of gunshots and screams resounding from the outside.
Every now and then, someone laughs.
I don't know who was fighting who or what they were fighting about, but the sounds of the fight were enough to make my heart stutter.
I could hear screaming, insane laughter, gunshots and the occasional howl of some jungle animal, but I had absolutely no idea what was happening. My ears felt like they were about to burst from the sensory overload but the noises felt so alien, my brain couldn't process them.
It felt so unreal. A few hours ago, we were on a cruise, laughing, sipping some alcoholic concoction, making jokes about where we wanted to go after the cruise…
No, no, this can't be happening. I tried to block the noises, tried telling myself that it wasn't real.
This is a dream, just a dream. A dream brought on by eating a bad oyster or taking that stupid pill when Yvonne dared me to.
I'll wake up, I'll wake up and I'll still be on the cruise ship, maybe feeling a bit sick but otherwise fine.
Though my hands were tied, I somehow managed to pinch the fleshy part of my arm. Hard.
Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwa keup.
"OW!" No. I was still dreaming.
I heard the rustle of clothe and stiffened.
"Anna?" The voice trembled and cracked at the mention of my name, but I was grateful to hear it. God knows I didn't want to be alone. Not even in a dream.
"Kyle? Kyle, are you there? I thought…I thought…" a scene flashed before my eyes.
Men in red shirts advancing on us, toy guns in their hands, yelling obscenities.
What? What? Are we playing some kind of war game? Some sort of friendly competition?
Kyle pushing me behind him, yelling something at the men.
One of them rushed forward—what sort of game was this anyway?
The sickening sound of the toy gun connecting with my friend's skull, Kyle falling to the ground, his eyelids fluttering sporadically, a nasty welt rising beginning to form on his temple.
That didn't look like a toy gun at all nonononononononono
Gunshots. Me screaming. Our friends running away. I was just standing there. Lindsey getting shot, her blood erupting from her back like some horrible flower. Lindsey falling. Me running to her.
Get up Lindsey, Lindsey get up. Kyle's hurt. Did you hear? Your brother's hurt?
Lindsey? No. She's not breathing.
CRACK!
Pain exploding in my arm like lightning, sending shock waves across my body. Blood. I see blood.
Is it Lindsey's blood or is it mine?
Kyle—have to go to Kyle, Lindsey's dead.
Someone standing over me, holding a gun to my face.
I'm dead. Dead like Lindsey and Kyle with blood running down their backs, not breathing.
OhGodohGodohGod.
Man with gun smiled. Shot Lindsey again.
Her body shook. Fall still. Lindsey dead. Kyle dead. I'm dead.
Nononono justadreamjustadreamwakeupwakeupwakeup!
"You thought I was dead?" Kyle's voice broke into my thoughts. "Well, I'm not. My head hurts like a motherfucker, though. Where are we?"
"Some sort of shack, I think," I replied. Gently, I tried to lift my arm, wanting to see if I really had been shot.
No pain.
Relief flooded me, so this was a dream. They say that you can't feel pain in a dream.
"Where're the others? My God, is that gunshot outside?" Kyle asked, his voice coming out in a very un-Kyle-like squeak.
"Doesn't matter," I hummed.
"What? Christ Anna, what the fuck did you say? It doesn't matter?! My sister could be the one getting shot out there and you say it doesn't matter?"
"I'll wake up soon and we'll be back on the cruise ship. Don't worry, Kyle, we'll be fine."
"Shit. Anna, listen to me, this is real. We need to get out of here, find Lindy and the others. God, I wish I was dreaming to, but I'm not. Anna, please stay with me."
"No. I'm dreaming." No, Kyle, please don't say it. I'm dreaming. I'm not awake. This isn't happening. Please don't say it's real, please.
"Anna Maria, keep it together for fuck's sake!" Kyle's voice rose to a yell.
Maybe he was about to say something more, I would never know because his next words were interrupted by the sound of a door creaking.
I'm pretty sure we both froze at this. Boots clunked heavily against the wooden floor of the shack.
Kyle grunting in pain, "Hey, let go of me, fucker!"
The sound of flesh hitting flesh, Kyle groaning in pain. "You keep your mouth shut or I'll gut you," someone with an accent too thick to place warned.
Rough, calloused hands grabbed my arm and pulled me up; I cried out as my arm screamed in pain.
No, this wasn't right, you can't feel pain in a dream.
Whoever was gripping my arm shoved me, hard and it took every ounce of strength I had not to fall. Pins and needles were spiking up and down my legs—how long had I been kept in that shed?
"Move, if you know what's good for you," my captor grunted.
So I moved, with no idea where I was going or whether Kyle was going with me. I didn't want the voice to get angry at me.
We walked for several minutes—or hours, I didn't care, and then I was shoved down on my knees. The earth was oddly slick, as if it had rained earlier and the ground didn't have a chance to dry up yet.
"Boss, here're the hostages," a voice behind me said.
The click of a knife, no—no! They were going to stab me! Please no, I'm too young!
I kicked out with my legs, felt them connect with flesh, tried to get up but strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me back down again.
I tried to scream but a hand covered my mouth. "Hey-hey, shut the fuck up! Okay? Shut the fuck up. I'm not going to fucking stab you or anything…I don't know, just shut the fuck up, okay? It's fucking annoying."
Briefly, I considered biting down onto the hand, but I realized that the hand was wet with…something that smelled like blood. It smelled like blood and gunpowder.
I felt a sudden pressure at the back of my head, and then my blindfold was cut free. Bright light stung my eyes and I had to look away for a second, wishing that whoever had cut my blindfold would also untie me, so that I could wipe away the tears that were building in my eyes.
That was when I saw the bodies. Men with tattooed faces and arms were lying dead in a pool of their own blood. The many holes in their bodies told me how they died.
Gunshot. Screaming. Laughter.
Their eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky, which was a startling forget-me-not blue.
It was far too a beautiful day for such ugliness. I wanted to scream, I could feel the scream building within me, like water in a dam that was far, far, too fragile to hold it all in.
Oh God, if I didn't scream it would destroy me.
But I couldn't the hand was still covering my mouth. Trembling all over now, I raised my eyes to take a look at the hand's owner.
I nearly screamed again. When someone says, kidnapper, I'd normally think of a man with large, rippling muscles, maybe a tattoo or three running up his arms, wearing a black suit and holding a gun with a silencer fitted to it: cold, efficient, professional. The sort of guy who'll manage to make you disappear without a trace, but will deliver you back to your family if they paid the deal.
But no…this guy didn't fit the deal. He wasn't bulked up nor did he have a tattoo or even the business suit that all white collar criminals are wearing these days.
This guy was lean, muscular, yes but not in the way you'd expect. He was muscular the way a feral cat was muscular, built for speed rather than strength.
Haha! So he'll not be able to snap your neck, but he can stab you so many times before you even realize it! HAHA! A voice was screaming crazily inside my head.
He had scars all over the side of his head, which would've been scary enough but it paled compared to his eyes. They dominated his face; two large, dark brown orbs that seemed to gleam with promises of later violence.
"Don't. Fucking. Scream. Okay, hermana? You can do that, can't you, hm?"
Feeling tears beginning to well up in my eyes, I nodded. When he took his hand away I had to bite my tongue, hard, to keep myself from screaming.
He looked pleased when I didn't make a sound.
"You know how to follow orders," he said. "I like that, hermana, I can fucking respect that. You follow orders better than these stupid fucks." He waved his hand carelessly behind him to indicate the men who were standing in line, their guns held loosely in their hands.
One of them grinned at me and made a kissing gesture. Frightened, I looked down.
Eyes saw this and let out a laugh. "Ey!" he turned back to the men. "Stop scaring our guest, okay? Stop fucking scaring her, look at her, fucking shivering like that. Do that again, and I'll fucking shoot you, man."
The men dithered but none of them looked like they were going to run away, like I would've done if anyone threatened to shoot me, apparently, they were used to this kind of thing.
"So you know how to follow orders." Eyes laughed again.
I didn't say anything.
"Hm? Did you say something, hermana? Did you fucking say something?"
My stomach clenched at the tone of his voice and I rapidly shook my head no.
Eyes looked at me for some time before he said, "You look like shit."
"Don't scream, okay?" Then, he leaned forward and pressed his hand on my arm. My injured arm.
Fire raced up my body, making me jump, making me want to scream. But he still held his knife in his other hand.
"He'll not be able to snap your neck, but he can stab you so many times before you even realize it!"
I bit my lip to keep from screaming. Blood dribbled down my chin. Eyes thought that was hilarious and let out an insane, blood-curdling laugh.
"Fucking obedient, you are," he said, still giggling. "We're going to have a lot of fun, you and I."
When he put his arm around me, I smelled blood and…something else, something I couldn't quite put a finger to. In that moment, even though I knew we were both human he seemed so alien, a different species altogether. One that liked to torture and shoot and kill.
Alien.
Experts say that in our dreams, we only see the faces of the people we already know.
I guess I'm awake after all.
Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!