JUST KIDDING.
I'm just a terrible human being that hasn't updated in forever, and I apologize. Sincerely, you guys, my bad.
I wake up in a hot flash of panic, gagging at the sudden loss of air in my throat. When I try to breathe in, all I get is the feeling of my lungs clenching in the empty space where air should be.
It takes me more time than I can afford to realize that there's a big, meaty mess of a hand covering my airways and a pair of beady eyes leering at me through the tiny black dots crowding my vision.
I lift my own hands and try desperately to shove at the offending arm, but it's too big and I'm too weak and the only thing I manage to do is curl my fingernails into it. I feel a hint of blood pooling around them, but my attacker either doesn't notice or doesn't care.
My head feels light and, in that terrifying moment, I know that I'm fading.
In a weak, last-ditch effort to get some air, I adjust my head weakly and clamp my teeth down on the fingers over my mouth. There's a loud grunt and I'm knocked sideways as the hand retracts to its source. I roll off of the bed and press my forehead to the cold ground, taking in gasping breaths as I try to keep my world from spinning.
Slowly, the world starts to come back from its state of darkness and I notice the harsh glare of the dimmed lighting, the throbbing in my temples, and the sound of three hushed voices coming from behind me.
Feeling my legs tremble beneath me, I use my hands to push myself into a standing position and stare at the sight in front of me, fighting to ignore the burning in my throat. A large man, and I do mean large- we're talking like a 7-foot lumberjack, here- was running his fingers through his beard as he spoke to an average-sized woman.
The only one paying attention to me was the kid, He was probably about 11 or so, but he was tiny- really short and thin enough that it looked like one shove could knock his lights out.
Never breaking eye contact with me, he reaches behind him to close and bolt the door leading into the hallway. The woman turns piercing black eyes on me and, seeing my shaking fingers close around the base of a lamp, lifts her hand in a placating way. "Calm down and take a deep breath. We're not going to hurt you."
A breathy laugh that sounds more like a wheeze hacks its way out of my throat. "Oh really? Because your husband over there just tried to strangle me."
They're blocking the only door in the room. I dart my eyes around briefly, trying to assess my other viable escape options, but the only thing there is a window, and smashing that would mean leaving Stryker for dead.
Oh my God. Stryker. If they were in here, they had to have already seen him lying on their couch. What would they have done to him?
Maybe not. A hopeful little voice inside of me reasons. It's dark out there and they could have just walked right by him.
It takes me a moment to realize that the woman is talking again.
"-may be so, but can you really blame him? We came home to find a random stranger in our son's bedroom, and he freaked out a little. He won't touch you again. Now we just want to know who you are and what you're doing here."
She takes a slow step towards me as she speaks, as if trying to coax a frightened animal out of a corner.
I grip the lamp a little tighter and pull it to my chest, forming a barrier between myself and them.
"Who are you?" I shoot back, not particularly sure how to answer her question. What am I doing here?
"We asked you first," taunts the boy.
"I asked you second." I glare at him.
"We are the Bear Family," the man cuts in gruffly, "and you're not welcome here."
"Yes, you made that abundantly clear." I mutter. "Bear Family… Bear Family… "
"You still haven't told us what your name is."
"Three bears. Come on! I'm not even blonde." I exclaim to myself.
"Dad, she's going insane!" shouts the kid.
"You're going insane!" I snap back.
The woman comes forward and tries to place a comforting hand on my arm, but I throw it off and clench the lamp even tighter, slipping one of my hands under the shade.
"You need to tell us your name." The woman shares a worried glance with her husband and retreats back to her original position. "Maybe there's someone we can call for you. With all due respect, I don't think you're well."
"Wouldn't have to call anyone if we just killed her. No one would know."
"Bernie!"
I'm swaying back and forth on my feet.
"All I'm saying is that that's what would have been easiest."
In their argument, they'd become distracted and I was able to pull the light bulb out of the lamp shade and then smash it against the bedside table.
Six eyes flash towards me, but before anyone can realize what I'm doing, I grab the frail boy and hold the broken glass against his neck, but not close enough to cut into him. His breath hitches, but he doesn't scream and he doesn't fight.
Let him go. Something deep inside of me tries to protest. You don't want to do this.
I shake my head. What did the kid do to deserve being threatened? But I know the answer.
He was the weakest. And weakness is danger.
"You- you're going to let me go. You're not going to touch me, you're going to leave me alone." I swallow and my hand jerks, glass cutting into my fingers and dripping my own crimson blood down the kid's shirt. "You're not going to ask me any more questions and you're not going to tell anyone that I was here. Do you understand me? I was never here."
The woman nods, a furious light burning in both hers and her husband's eyes.
"After I'm gone, you're going to wait five minutes before you leave this room, and then you're going to act like this was all a crazy dream and that none of it ever happened. Are we clear?"
Their faces swim in my vision, but her voice comes through fine.
"Crystal."
I release my hold on the boy and he runs back to his parents before I throw the bolt open and slam the door behind me, fully aware that I had just given up my only leverage.
Shoving a table haphazardly in front of it, just in case, I make my way into the living room and do my best to drag an unharmed Stryker off of the couch without causing him any injuries.
I try to pull him up on my back, but that doesn't work, and I try to lift him, but that doesn't work either. So, I settle on lifting him by the arms and dragging his legs across the floor to the first door I find leading outside.
Luckily, the garage is open and I see a mass of wires poking out of the driver's seat. I circle around to the passenger side and attempt to haul Stryker into a sitting position before going around and trying to figure out which wires to touch together.
As a bit of an afterthought, I reach across and snap him in as well as myself. Sparks emit from the cables, making me jump and my fingers smart. The engine starts, though, and I throw it into reverse, screeching across concrete as I find my way out of the driveway and onto the dirt road.
Then I realize that I have no idea which way is out of the woods and which way is deeper into them, so I head left at a completely irrational speed, struggling to find a way to turn on the headlights and illuminate the darkness while simultaneously attempting to keep my eyes focused on the road in front of me.
The second I find it, I throw the switch that flips them on and the last thing I see before stepping hard on the brakes and skidding into a thicket of trees is a thin frame darting into the middle of the road. Then I'm thrown towards the windshield, and the only thing I can see is shattered glass.
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I'm going to try to update again as soon as possible, but as a vain creature, I live on praise. Or criticism, really. SO LEAVE ME THEM COMMENTS. Thank you.
-Dictatorship