The boys of D-Tent are sleeping peacefully, not caring about a thing
in the world, when it happens. The truck is heard driving over the sand,
narrowly missing rocks. I am asleep in the back of that truck, hopelessly
lost in unconsciousness. 'There's nowhere to go but up, since I am at my
lowest,' I think as we go over a rock. We finally stop and the driver
picks me up and hoists me over his shoulder. It's a man, I can tell.
Irish and Polish, brown hair, muscular, tough hands. He dug his own
mother's grave, nearly ran over his spouse, and has a drinking problem
(though he's sober right now). I can tell this by his grip only. Weird,
huh?
He brings me into a building and lays me down on a chair. A woman snaps, "Where are the supplies? Is the girl the supplies?" The man replies, in a gruff voice, "The supplies are in the truck." A man says, timidly, "Where'd you find her, Jack?" The man who carried me in (Jack) says, "I found her half-dead, no fingernails, chained to a wooden box that had a hole in it. I reckon she scratched her way out of the box." The woman asks, "What is her name?" "I don't know," says Jack. The woman snaps, "Well, wake her up and find out!" Jack shakes me and says, "Kid, we have a few questions for you. Could you wake up?" I slowly open my eyes and look at my surroundings.
Jack is the way I imagined him to be. The woman is very thin, freckled, and has a rather strange nose. The timid man is rather ugly, and there is another man, he is rather fat and is smoking a cigarette. "What is your name?", the woman asks. "Ashleigh," I reply. "Ashleigh Brillant, but call me Ash or Leigh, or Ashleigh, I don't care." "Where are you from, Ashleigh?", the woman asks again. "Everywhere. I n...never really lived in one place for more than a year." "Do you know where you are?" I shift around in my spot and croak out, "Camp Green Lake, I guess. But judging form the drive here, it's not green, and there is no lake. You people are liars." The fat man says in a harsh voice, "How did you know that?" "I just...knew...," I say, my voice drifting away.
The questioning continues with the timid man asking, "Why don't you have any finger nails?" He flinches and turns away. "I scratched my way out of a wodden box. Do you actually think I have any fingernails??", I snap. I want to get up, but I'm too weak. I'm very annoyed with the questioning. It's just getting SO aggravating. But before I can do anything the woman says, "I heard enough from her." I feel a pinprick as something numbs my pain, a goo of painkilling toxin, and I drift away, and my brain becomes a distant observer, as I become nothing, and sleep is the only thought not washed away.
He brings me into a building and lays me down on a chair. A woman snaps, "Where are the supplies? Is the girl the supplies?" The man replies, in a gruff voice, "The supplies are in the truck." A man says, timidly, "Where'd you find her, Jack?" The man who carried me in (Jack) says, "I found her half-dead, no fingernails, chained to a wooden box that had a hole in it. I reckon she scratched her way out of the box." The woman asks, "What is her name?" "I don't know," says Jack. The woman snaps, "Well, wake her up and find out!" Jack shakes me and says, "Kid, we have a few questions for you. Could you wake up?" I slowly open my eyes and look at my surroundings.
Jack is the way I imagined him to be. The woman is very thin, freckled, and has a rather strange nose. The timid man is rather ugly, and there is another man, he is rather fat and is smoking a cigarette. "What is your name?", the woman asks. "Ashleigh," I reply. "Ashleigh Brillant, but call me Ash or Leigh, or Ashleigh, I don't care." "Where are you from, Ashleigh?", the woman asks again. "Everywhere. I n...never really lived in one place for more than a year." "Do you know where you are?" I shift around in my spot and croak out, "Camp Green Lake, I guess. But judging form the drive here, it's not green, and there is no lake. You people are liars." The fat man says in a harsh voice, "How did you know that?" "I just...knew...," I say, my voice drifting away.
The questioning continues with the timid man asking, "Why don't you have any finger nails?" He flinches and turns away. "I scratched my way out of a wodden box. Do you actually think I have any fingernails??", I snap. I want to get up, but I'm too weak. I'm very annoyed with the questioning. It's just getting SO aggravating. But before I can do anything the woman says, "I heard enough from her." I feel a pinprick as something numbs my pain, a goo of painkilling toxin, and I drift away, and my brain becomes a distant observer, as I become nothing, and sleep is the only thought not washed away.