Part Two-
November 2006-
Undisclosed Location, London, England-
I slept in late this morning, surprisingly no one woke me up. I suppose it was Wes's doing, letting me sleep because I had been up last night. I took a comfortingly long shower, letting the hot water wash away my fatigue and worries of yesterday. Afterwards, I looked in the small mirror and saw that the bruises and cuts were fading, though they had swollen and made my lips and cheek a bright purple/red color. I sighed and wondered what Quentin was going to say. I shook my head and toweled the droplets of water off of me. I had had another dream. I don't really remember the details, but I can remember the feelings I had had. I could feel a despair and misery like nothing I had ever felt. I had felt like I was dying inside and there was nothing I could do. What little I remembered from the dream was a swirling portal and a truly grotesque statue. I remember fighting someone.someone I had cared about very much. And salt, I remember the stinging saltiness of tears. Swords, I can hear the clashing of swords in the back of my mind, if I think hard enough. While I can also hear words that make me want to cry until I die from dehydration.
*Close your eyes.*
I've never said those words. I can't explain why I'm getting these and I'm rather sick of them. I sigh and change into my normal clothes which consist of, you guessed it, white. If I ever get out of here, I will never buy white. No, not even my socks. They will be some outrageous color like hot neon pink or neon yellow. I tie my long, long hair back with a rubber band and sit by my window. I usually look out and dream of a world without 'tests', without white, without loneliness. I want to be able to go where I please and not be alone all the time. My door opens and I know without even looking who it is. Wesley.
"Hey." I greet him, staring out into the dim sunlight that is of London.
"Good Morning." He says and I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Do I have to go?" I asked, my voice coming out shy and almost scared.
"I'm sorry. I know how much you hate this." Wes says, laying his hand on my shoulder.
"Hate, doesn't even begin to describe this. Maybe loathe, or detest. Wes, I've been doing this everyday, same time, same people, for six years. I think they know all they can about me." I said, in a tired voice.
"Those people out there, are insane. They're inhuman and insensitive. Don't turn out like them." He said, his eyes serious.
I knew what he meant. Thousands of times I had felt the exact way he warned me not too. Numb, unfeeling, dead inside. Sometimes, you couldn't help it when you stayed here as long as I had. It just seemed hopeless. What if I never got out? What if I had to stay here forever, seeing the same damn people day after day after day. I'm surprised I hadn't gone mad yet. Maybe I was, and didn't know it. That could very well be. What they did, day after day, would make the normal person try and kill themselves the first week. I'm not normal and even I tried too.
"Are you ok, luv?" Wes asked.
I smiled. He sometimes did that, call me a pet name. Sometimes he called me 'kid', when he was teasing, other times, when he tried to comfort me, he called me 'dear' or sweetie'. It made me happy.
"I'm fine. You know me, my mind's a million times miles away." I waved it off quietly, a small smile gracing my face.
"Sometimes I wonder about you." He chuckled.
I sighed heavily, releasing part of a weighty strain deep within my soul. Wes eyed me and I could just see in his eyes that he thought they were pushing me too hard. A small high pitched beep came from the small radio Wes had attached to his side and I knew they wanted me down there, now.
"Come on." He sighed, taking my hand.
I nodded and closed my eyes as he led me to the room. I trusted him, as I always did. We walked in and I saw Quentin's sadistic smile. Oh God. I knew he was planning something bad. Something I certainly wouldn't like.
"Come now." He demanded.
I reluctantly left the comfort zone that Wes had created for me and followed the man I vowed to hate forever.
We winded down a few halls, one staircase, and entered a large pit-like room. The walls were smooth with no grip or ridges, the walls slanting down to meet the floor in a rounded accumulation. There was a small window way up top, maybe twelve feet up.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice dripping confusion.
"A test." Quentin smirked, in his gravely voice.
"A test of what?" I asked, suspiciously.
"A test of everything, my dear. Strength, endurance, intuition, instinct, stamina, everything that makes you." He answered, his tiny eyes trained on me. I saw something in them, something evil. He wasn't right.
"Get in." He barked, pushing me into the room.
I stumbled in and fell to my knees. I stood up and looked around me. It was bland, all an off gray color, the ceiling going up at least twenty-five feet. I looked into the little window above me and saw Wes and Quentin fighting. Wes looked ready to kill, his eyes blazing and his face turning red. Quentin just said something smugly and Wes stopped, his face looking defeating. He turned and saw me looking up, leering he grabbed a microphone and started to speak.
"As I said before, this is a test. But different than you are used too. This is a life threatening situation, my dear. If you perform the wrong moves, you will die." He said, smirking all the way.
"What is the point of this?" I asked, hating my voice for trembling.
"The point, my dear, is to examination the way you move. The way you fight, to see if you were the same as-"
He was rudely interrupted by Wes's hand clutching his throat.
"Wes, stop!" I screamed, fearing he would do something rash and have to leave, just like Ginny did. Wes seemed to control himself and let go of Quentin, but not without a harsh whisper that made Quentin go white as the wall in my room.
"Good luck." Quentin said, tersely.
He must have pressed something because a door, that hadn't been there before, opened and a man came out. He looked handsome, in a rough sort of way. He had pale features and was wearing black, which made him all that more paler. He had amber eyes, which I found strangely hypnotizing. I just stood there as he sauntered closer to me. I could hear Wes screaming something above me, but Quentin must have turned the mic off. The man smiled a slimy, oily smile that made my belly lurch.
Wait a minute.
In seconds, he had me by the neck, his smooth hands squeezing tightly. I gasped as it took me by utter surprise.
"Y'know," He leered, his voice sounding Southern, "I haven't eaten in weeks. Fella gets mighty hungry down in these parts, with them not servin' any food and all." He drawled slowly, "But ya, yer pretty tiny, but I guess you'll do." He growled.
I turned back slightly and screamed.
His face, oh God, what was wrong with his face?! I moved my head into his nose and they connected with a sickening crack. I could feel his blood seeping into my hair. I scrambled away when he let go, screaming, "Fucking hell!"
I pressed my back against the wall, my chest rising and falling heavily. He snarled, his grotesque features tightening with anger. I whimpered as he came closer, not knowing what to do. I squirmed away when he came to close. He was taking his time, baiting me. Suddenly, he was behind me, grabbing my small wrist with bruising force, yanking me too him. He pressed his deformed mouth to mine, his teeth tearing open old wounds and making new ones. I pushed him away and watched in sick fascination as he flew to the wall behind him, which had to be at least ten feet away. I looked at my hands in shock, I did that?
"Buffy, move!" I heard someone shout.
It was Wes. I looked up and saw him waving at me. I turned and saw the guy running to me, then I dropped to my knees and rolled. He barreled past me, growling all the way. I ran to the far wall, tears of fear trailing down my cheeks.
"I want out!" I screamed, looking up at the window.
Quentin smirked and Wes was yelling at him.
The guy grabbed me again and I kicked him, square in the chest.
"I don't want to kill you!" I sobbed, not knowing what the bloody hell was going on.
"Then I'll ya first." He snarled, licking his blood stained lips.
"No!" I cried, ducking and rolling beneath him. He somehow managed to trip on me and crashed right on top of me. He pinned me down and covered my mouth with his hands, lowering his teeth to my neck. I bit down on his fingers, breaking the skin and tasting droplets of strong, stale blood in my mouth. I gagged as he howled a string of curses at me. I bent my knees to my chest and kicked up, watching as he flew off me. I stood up and watched him wearily. I heard a dull clatter and looked around, seeing a piece of wood rolling on the floor. I hastily grabbed it and yelled wondered what the hell I was supposed to do with it? I whined in fearful frustration. I dodged him and stayed a careful distance away from him. I looked at the wood. It was finely sharpened, the smooth wood ending in a sharp point. I wasn't supposed to.stab him.was I? I-I be killing him then, I'd be a killer. I couldn't.couldn't do. Not me. He ran at me and I instinctively held the wooden stick up and it impaled him in the stomach. He yelled out in pain, his golden eyes flashing.
"Whoops." I whimpered and pulled it out, wanting to puke at the slurpy suction noise.
"The heart!" Wes screamed over the mic.
Oh God, what side is the heart on?! Um.um, damn it! Left! I stabbed it into him, pushing it deeper.
"Bitch, I'll see you in hell." He snarled as he crumbled to dust.
Wait a moment, crumbled to dust. People don't crumble to dust. I didn't have time to dwell on it though, because the dust seemed to gravitate into my mouth, making me gag and choke. The taste of it was like soot and death. Shock came over me and I fell to the floor, my eyes widened, and my body fell limp. All I did was stare and at some point I suppose I fell unconscious, because I don't remember going to my room or having anyone talk to me. Because when I finally seemed to snap out of it and wake up, I was tucked into my bed, in my room left alone to dwell in my confusion and fear. Fear of what I really was and what I was capable of.
*
I had fallen asleep again and had no dreams. It was as if my body as well as mind was exhausted and had no strength to even fathom a dream, or nightmare for that matter. But, I wasn't alone when I had awoken. Wes was sitting the chair by my window, reading a book. I peered at the cover and saw he was reading, 'Merrick', by Anne Rice.
"Good book?" I asked.
"Very." He answered, glancing at me, "Vampires, and witches."
"Cool." I said softly.
"Are you alright?" Wes asked, his clear eyes showing he was deeply troubled.
"Confused, scared, cold." I replied, my voice low.
He marked his book and moved over to me, taking a small bowl and washcloth off of my table. He dipped the cloth and dabbed at my face. The water was warm and soothing on my aching bruises upon bruises.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice full of shame.
"Don't be. Quentin did this, not you." I said.
"But, I didn't do much to stop his, now did I?" He asked, his eyes blazing.
"You were. I saw you. If you would have attacked him, he would have made you go away and then I'd be all alone." I said softly.
We were both silent as he switched the washcloth for a small pack of ice. He placed it on my cheek, letting go and letting me hold it.
I had a sudden thought and looked up at my friend, "Wes?" I asked.
"Hmm?" He murmured, again absorbed in his book.
"Do you remember Ginny?" I asked, knowing what a stupid question it was. Of course he remembered her. He loved her. Ginny, well her real name was Virginia, had been here for two years, maybe longer, but I had known her for two years. She had been there ever since I had, um, woken up. She had been so nice. She had talked to me and everything. Had been a true friend. She had always eased my confusion and made me feel safe. She had gotten my to be a bit of a book worm. Every week, when staff was allowed to go into the city, she would bring me a book. She had gotten me obsessed with V.C. Andrews books. My first one she bought me, being 'Flowers in the Attic', I never ate powered donuts again. She had been like a sister. Explaining everything to me; my period, my feelings, she even deciphered some dreams. She was much warmer than Gwendolyn Post, the ice witch of the century. I missed her so much. She had had honey colored hair that curled and spiraled in every direction, comforting hazel eyes, and a warm smile. She had been like an older sister. But, she had tried to tell me something, something I had never understood. Something Quentin disapproved of and she disappeared. The night before the day she had left, she had woken me up late in the night telling me to be careful and watch out who I trust. She had also told me to get out before I turned eighteen. I don't know why she had told me that and I had never asked Wes why. For days, weeks after Ginny had gone, he had been in a strange funk. Never talking, like he did know, and hanging around me like a nervous grizzly bear. He had known something, something that to this day he hadn't told me, and knowing Wes, probably never would. I missed Ginny so much.
"Yes I do." Wes answered softly, snapping me out of my thoughts, "Why do you ask?"
"No reason. I was just thinking about her." I responded, my voice quiet.
"What's the matter?" He asked, leaning foreword a bit.
"I was just thinking of her, you know? I just. I miss her." I stammered, sighing heavily.
"I do too." Wes answered, his eyes misty looking.
"I just keep thinking. She left. She left and now all I have is you, what if you leave too?" I asked looking up at him.
His eyes turned serious and he took my hands, "Listen. First off, I love you. I would never leave you here alone. Not with these blokes. Always remember that." He said firmly, but a soft undertone of compassion in his voice.
I nodded, softy saying, "I will.", but I wondered if I could believe it. What if I was alone for the rest of my life?
Wes was quiet for a few moments, "I suppose you want to know everything now."
"Excuse me?" I asked, peering up at him.
"I yelled your name in that room, I suppose you want to know everything." He sighed.
"You yelled my name?" I asked, confusion clear in my voice.
He looked at me for a moment, and then looked utterly relieved, "You didn't hear me." He whispered, more as a revelation to himself than to me.
"I'm sorry." I murmured, thinking back to when I was being attacked.
I could remember exactly what he said. I remember him yelling, but I remember fighting for my life a little bit more clearer. I guess supreme panic and sheer terror do things like that to you. I've been waiting forever to hear all the facts and details about myself, how I came to be, and I finally find out a tiny, miraculous piece of information which I forget, do to trying to keep my sorry self alive. Terrific.
"It's quite alright, luv. It will make everything a little bit easier that way." Wes said.
"Easier?" I repeated.
"Yes. That way, I can tell you everything as a whole instead of you knowing only confusing bits an pieces." He answered, getting up and brushing off his pants.
"I'll see you later, there's some business I must attend too." Wes said, smiling and waving as he left my room. And, again I was alone, for now.
*
Gwendolyn Post came to my room later that night. Her eyes were small with disapproval and her lips tightened into a grimace. She walked briskly into the room, her heels clicking dully on the linoleum and her tweed skirt swishing annoyingly.
"What do you want?" I asked her.
Her eyes became squinty and dark, "I'd like to talk to you." She snapped.
"About what?" I asked her, shifting on my chair.
"What happened today. What you did was wrong. You panicked and let your fear take over hold of your senses. You could have been killed. You didn't follow your instincts, you didn't trust them. You became the risk." She barked.
I could feel anger swelling inside of me. How dare her!
"Let me get this straight. You throw me inside a locked room with this...this thing, and expect me to know what to do!" I cried.
"I expect you to follow your primal instincts." She said.
"My 'instincts' were telling me to run, to get the hell out of there before I got killed." I whispered harshly.
"No it wasn't." She snapped.
"Don't you dare tell me what I was feeling. You don't know what goes on inside me." I said, my voice harsh.
That's when she started to laugh. A deep, sinister, cackle of a laugh. Her eyes actually teared and her face tightened with what looked to be a triumphant, devious gleam.
"Oh yes, I do know what goes on inside of you. We made you, knows what makes you tick. No. I know what's inside you, what's within you. The best part is, you're not even the first. No, you're one of hundreds." She sneered, her face almost taking on a demonic glint and with that, she turned on her dull heel and clicked out of my room. A wicked smile on her face the whole time.
Now, what am I supposed to make of that?
November 2006-
Undisclosed Location, London, England-
I slept in late this morning, surprisingly no one woke me up. I suppose it was Wes's doing, letting me sleep because I had been up last night. I took a comfortingly long shower, letting the hot water wash away my fatigue and worries of yesterday. Afterwards, I looked in the small mirror and saw that the bruises and cuts were fading, though they had swollen and made my lips and cheek a bright purple/red color. I sighed and wondered what Quentin was going to say. I shook my head and toweled the droplets of water off of me. I had had another dream. I don't really remember the details, but I can remember the feelings I had had. I could feel a despair and misery like nothing I had ever felt. I had felt like I was dying inside and there was nothing I could do. What little I remembered from the dream was a swirling portal and a truly grotesque statue. I remember fighting someone.someone I had cared about very much. And salt, I remember the stinging saltiness of tears. Swords, I can hear the clashing of swords in the back of my mind, if I think hard enough. While I can also hear words that make me want to cry until I die from dehydration.
*Close your eyes.*
I've never said those words. I can't explain why I'm getting these and I'm rather sick of them. I sigh and change into my normal clothes which consist of, you guessed it, white. If I ever get out of here, I will never buy white. No, not even my socks. They will be some outrageous color like hot neon pink or neon yellow. I tie my long, long hair back with a rubber band and sit by my window. I usually look out and dream of a world without 'tests', without white, without loneliness. I want to be able to go where I please and not be alone all the time. My door opens and I know without even looking who it is. Wesley.
"Hey." I greet him, staring out into the dim sunlight that is of London.
"Good Morning." He says and I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Do I have to go?" I asked, my voice coming out shy and almost scared.
"I'm sorry. I know how much you hate this." Wes says, laying his hand on my shoulder.
"Hate, doesn't even begin to describe this. Maybe loathe, or detest. Wes, I've been doing this everyday, same time, same people, for six years. I think they know all they can about me." I said, in a tired voice.
"Those people out there, are insane. They're inhuman and insensitive. Don't turn out like them." He said, his eyes serious.
I knew what he meant. Thousands of times I had felt the exact way he warned me not too. Numb, unfeeling, dead inside. Sometimes, you couldn't help it when you stayed here as long as I had. It just seemed hopeless. What if I never got out? What if I had to stay here forever, seeing the same damn people day after day after day. I'm surprised I hadn't gone mad yet. Maybe I was, and didn't know it. That could very well be. What they did, day after day, would make the normal person try and kill themselves the first week. I'm not normal and even I tried too.
"Are you ok, luv?" Wes asked.
I smiled. He sometimes did that, call me a pet name. Sometimes he called me 'kid', when he was teasing, other times, when he tried to comfort me, he called me 'dear' or sweetie'. It made me happy.
"I'm fine. You know me, my mind's a million times miles away." I waved it off quietly, a small smile gracing my face.
"Sometimes I wonder about you." He chuckled.
I sighed heavily, releasing part of a weighty strain deep within my soul. Wes eyed me and I could just see in his eyes that he thought they were pushing me too hard. A small high pitched beep came from the small radio Wes had attached to his side and I knew they wanted me down there, now.
"Come on." He sighed, taking my hand.
I nodded and closed my eyes as he led me to the room. I trusted him, as I always did. We walked in and I saw Quentin's sadistic smile. Oh God. I knew he was planning something bad. Something I certainly wouldn't like.
"Come now." He demanded.
I reluctantly left the comfort zone that Wes had created for me and followed the man I vowed to hate forever.
We winded down a few halls, one staircase, and entered a large pit-like room. The walls were smooth with no grip or ridges, the walls slanting down to meet the floor in a rounded accumulation. There was a small window way up top, maybe twelve feet up.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice dripping confusion.
"A test." Quentin smirked, in his gravely voice.
"A test of what?" I asked, suspiciously.
"A test of everything, my dear. Strength, endurance, intuition, instinct, stamina, everything that makes you." He answered, his tiny eyes trained on me. I saw something in them, something evil. He wasn't right.
"Get in." He barked, pushing me into the room.
I stumbled in and fell to my knees. I stood up and looked around me. It was bland, all an off gray color, the ceiling going up at least twenty-five feet. I looked into the little window above me and saw Wes and Quentin fighting. Wes looked ready to kill, his eyes blazing and his face turning red. Quentin just said something smugly and Wes stopped, his face looking defeating. He turned and saw me looking up, leering he grabbed a microphone and started to speak.
"As I said before, this is a test. But different than you are used too. This is a life threatening situation, my dear. If you perform the wrong moves, you will die." He said, smirking all the way.
"What is the point of this?" I asked, hating my voice for trembling.
"The point, my dear, is to examination the way you move. The way you fight, to see if you were the same as-"
He was rudely interrupted by Wes's hand clutching his throat.
"Wes, stop!" I screamed, fearing he would do something rash and have to leave, just like Ginny did. Wes seemed to control himself and let go of Quentin, but not without a harsh whisper that made Quentin go white as the wall in my room.
"Good luck." Quentin said, tersely.
He must have pressed something because a door, that hadn't been there before, opened and a man came out. He looked handsome, in a rough sort of way. He had pale features and was wearing black, which made him all that more paler. He had amber eyes, which I found strangely hypnotizing. I just stood there as he sauntered closer to me. I could hear Wes screaming something above me, but Quentin must have turned the mic off. The man smiled a slimy, oily smile that made my belly lurch.
Wait a minute.
In seconds, he had me by the neck, his smooth hands squeezing tightly. I gasped as it took me by utter surprise.
"Y'know," He leered, his voice sounding Southern, "I haven't eaten in weeks. Fella gets mighty hungry down in these parts, with them not servin' any food and all." He drawled slowly, "But ya, yer pretty tiny, but I guess you'll do." He growled.
I turned back slightly and screamed.
His face, oh God, what was wrong with his face?! I moved my head into his nose and they connected with a sickening crack. I could feel his blood seeping into my hair. I scrambled away when he let go, screaming, "Fucking hell!"
I pressed my back against the wall, my chest rising and falling heavily. He snarled, his grotesque features tightening with anger. I whimpered as he came closer, not knowing what to do. I squirmed away when he came to close. He was taking his time, baiting me. Suddenly, he was behind me, grabbing my small wrist with bruising force, yanking me too him. He pressed his deformed mouth to mine, his teeth tearing open old wounds and making new ones. I pushed him away and watched in sick fascination as he flew to the wall behind him, which had to be at least ten feet away. I looked at my hands in shock, I did that?
"Buffy, move!" I heard someone shout.
It was Wes. I looked up and saw him waving at me. I turned and saw the guy running to me, then I dropped to my knees and rolled. He barreled past me, growling all the way. I ran to the far wall, tears of fear trailing down my cheeks.
"I want out!" I screamed, looking up at the window.
Quentin smirked and Wes was yelling at him.
The guy grabbed me again and I kicked him, square in the chest.
"I don't want to kill you!" I sobbed, not knowing what the bloody hell was going on.
"Then I'll ya first." He snarled, licking his blood stained lips.
"No!" I cried, ducking and rolling beneath him. He somehow managed to trip on me and crashed right on top of me. He pinned me down and covered my mouth with his hands, lowering his teeth to my neck. I bit down on his fingers, breaking the skin and tasting droplets of strong, stale blood in my mouth. I gagged as he howled a string of curses at me. I bent my knees to my chest and kicked up, watching as he flew off me. I stood up and watched him wearily. I heard a dull clatter and looked around, seeing a piece of wood rolling on the floor. I hastily grabbed it and yelled wondered what the hell I was supposed to do with it? I whined in fearful frustration. I dodged him and stayed a careful distance away from him. I looked at the wood. It was finely sharpened, the smooth wood ending in a sharp point. I wasn't supposed to.stab him.was I? I-I be killing him then, I'd be a killer. I couldn't.couldn't do. Not me. He ran at me and I instinctively held the wooden stick up and it impaled him in the stomach. He yelled out in pain, his golden eyes flashing.
"Whoops." I whimpered and pulled it out, wanting to puke at the slurpy suction noise.
"The heart!" Wes screamed over the mic.
Oh God, what side is the heart on?! Um.um, damn it! Left! I stabbed it into him, pushing it deeper.
"Bitch, I'll see you in hell." He snarled as he crumbled to dust.
Wait a moment, crumbled to dust. People don't crumble to dust. I didn't have time to dwell on it though, because the dust seemed to gravitate into my mouth, making me gag and choke. The taste of it was like soot and death. Shock came over me and I fell to the floor, my eyes widened, and my body fell limp. All I did was stare and at some point I suppose I fell unconscious, because I don't remember going to my room or having anyone talk to me. Because when I finally seemed to snap out of it and wake up, I was tucked into my bed, in my room left alone to dwell in my confusion and fear. Fear of what I really was and what I was capable of.
*
I had fallen asleep again and had no dreams. It was as if my body as well as mind was exhausted and had no strength to even fathom a dream, or nightmare for that matter. But, I wasn't alone when I had awoken. Wes was sitting the chair by my window, reading a book. I peered at the cover and saw he was reading, 'Merrick', by Anne Rice.
"Good book?" I asked.
"Very." He answered, glancing at me, "Vampires, and witches."
"Cool." I said softly.
"Are you alright?" Wes asked, his clear eyes showing he was deeply troubled.
"Confused, scared, cold." I replied, my voice low.
He marked his book and moved over to me, taking a small bowl and washcloth off of my table. He dipped the cloth and dabbed at my face. The water was warm and soothing on my aching bruises upon bruises.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice full of shame.
"Don't be. Quentin did this, not you." I said.
"But, I didn't do much to stop his, now did I?" He asked, his eyes blazing.
"You were. I saw you. If you would have attacked him, he would have made you go away and then I'd be all alone." I said softly.
We were both silent as he switched the washcloth for a small pack of ice. He placed it on my cheek, letting go and letting me hold it.
I had a sudden thought and looked up at my friend, "Wes?" I asked.
"Hmm?" He murmured, again absorbed in his book.
"Do you remember Ginny?" I asked, knowing what a stupid question it was. Of course he remembered her. He loved her. Ginny, well her real name was Virginia, had been here for two years, maybe longer, but I had known her for two years. She had been there ever since I had, um, woken up. She had been so nice. She had talked to me and everything. Had been a true friend. She had always eased my confusion and made me feel safe. She had gotten my to be a bit of a book worm. Every week, when staff was allowed to go into the city, she would bring me a book. She had gotten me obsessed with V.C. Andrews books. My first one she bought me, being 'Flowers in the Attic', I never ate powered donuts again. She had been like a sister. Explaining everything to me; my period, my feelings, she even deciphered some dreams. She was much warmer than Gwendolyn Post, the ice witch of the century. I missed her so much. She had had honey colored hair that curled and spiraled in every direction, comforting hazel eyes, and a warm smile. She had been like an older sister. But, she had tried to tell me something, something I had never understood. Something Quentin disapproved of and she disappeared. The night before the day she had left, she had woken me up late in the night telling me to be careful and watch out who I trust. She had also told me to get out before I turned eighteen. I don't know why she had told me that and I had never asked Wes why. For days, weeks after Ginny had gone, he had been in a strange funk. Never talking, like he did know, and hanging around me like a nervous grizzly bear. He had known something, something that to this day he hadn't told me, and knowing Wes, probably never would. I missed Ginny so much.
"Yes I do." Wes answered softly, snapping me out of my thoughts, "Why do you ask?"
"No reason. I was just thinking about her." I responded, my voice quiet.
"What's the matter?" He asked, leaning foreword a bit.
"I was just thinking of her, you know? I just. I miss her." I stammered, sighing heavily.
"I do too." Wes answered, his eyes misty looking.
"I just keep thinking. She left. She left and now all I have is you, what if you leave too?" I asked looking up at him.
His eyes turned serious and he took my hands, "Listen. First off, I love you. I would never leave you here alone. Not with these blokes. Always remember that." He said firmly, but a soft undertone of compassion in his voice.
I nodded, softy saying, "I will.", but I wondered if I could believe it. What if I was alone for the rest of my life?
Wes was quiet for a few moments, "I suppose you want to know everything now."
"Excuse me?" I asked, peering up at him.
"I yelled your name in that room, I suppose you want to know everything." He sighed.
"You yelled my name?" I asked, confusion clear in my voice.
He looked at me for a moment, and then looked utterly relieved, "You didn't hear me." He whispered, more as a revelation to himself than to me.
"I'm sorry." I murmured, thinking back to when I was being attacked.
I could remember exactly what he said. I remember him yelling, but I remember fighting for my life a little bit more clearer. I guess supreme panic and sheer terror do things like that to you. I've been waiting forever to hear all the facts and details about myself, how I came to be, and I finally find out a tiny, miraculous piece of information which I forget, do to trying to keep my sorry self alive. Terrific.
"It's quite alright, luv. It will make everything a little bit easier that way." Wes said.
"Easier?" I repeated.
"Yes. That way, I can tell you everything as a whole instead of you knowing only confusing bits an pieces." He answered, getting up and brushing off his pants.
"I'll see you later, there's some business I must attend too." Wes said, smiling and waving as he left my room. And, again I was alone, for now.
*
Gwendolyn Post came to my room later that night. Her eyes were small with disapproval and her lips tightened into a grimace. She walked briskly into the room, her heels clicking dully on the linoleum and her tweed skirt swishing annoyingly.
"What do you want?" I asked her.
Her eyes became squinty and dark, "I'd like to talk to you." She snapped.
"About what?" I asked her, shifting on my chair.
"What happened today. What you did was wrong. You panicked and let your fear take over hold of your senses. You could have been killed. You didn't follow your instincts, you didn't trust them. You became the risk." She barked.
I could feel anger swelling inside of me. How dare her!
"Let me get this straight. You throw me inside a locked room with this...this thing, and expect me to know what to do!" I cried.
"I expect you to follow your primal instincts." She said.
"My 'instincts' were telling me to run, to get the hell out of there before I got killed." I whispered harshly.
"No it wasn't." She snapped.
"Don't you dare tell me what I was feeling. You don't know what goes on inside me." I said, my voice harsh.
That's when she started to laugh. A deep, sinister, cackle of a laugh. Her eyes actually teared and her face tightened with what looked to be a triumphant, devious gleam.
"Oh yes, I do know what goes on inside of you. We made you, knows what makes you tick. No. I know what's inside you, what's within you. The best part is, you're not even the first. No, you're one of hundreds." She sneered, her face almost taking on a demonic glint and with that, she turned on her dull heel and clicked out of my room. A wicked smile on her face the whole time.
Now, what am I supposed to make of that?