Chapter 14
IT HURTS! IT HURTS!
Am I moaning? Damn I feel good inside her. I keep my eyes closed, I can't believe this is happening and I don't want to see her.
"YOU SICK BITCH! YOU DID THIS TO YOUR BROTHER?" Ow! She punched me.
I feel sick.
The PAIN when she STABS me, she's just sliding the knife UP and DOWN in my torso. I can't stop my tears.
IT HURTS! IT HURTS!
I watch her walk through the door. She smiles sweetly at me. "I have something for you." I see her holding a syringe.
"What is it?" I ask.
She takes a breath excitedly. "Something to make you feel good."
I'm coughing a heap of blood.
MY TORSO! NO WONDER IT HURTS! I SCREAM! I SCREAM!
I whimper. My throat's so sore. My pants are still down. She's just staring at me, licking my blood from her knife. This doesn't even disturb her. She should be in a straight jacket. She stares at me, delicately strokes my hair.
"Please kill me," I plead. I don't see any way out of this, could I just die and get some peace?
She grabs my penis. Oh no, she wouldn't.
She PUNCHES! Again. AGAIN! I grit my teeth.
The knife can't go any deeper into me, but she's still pushing. And I swear she's having an orgasm!
STOP! STOP IT! STOP!
The knife can't go any deeper into me, but she's still pushing. And I swear she's having an orgasm!
STOP! STOP IT! STOP!
MY TORSO! NO WONDER IT HURTS! I SCREAM! I SCREAM!
I feel sick.
I'm coughing a heap of blood.
She stares at me, delicately strokes my hair.
"Please kill me," I plead.
I struggle side to side. These restraints really keep me in place.
The PAIN when she STABS me, she's just sliding the knife UP and DOWN in my torso. I can't stop my tears.
WHAT DID SHE DO TO ME!?!?!
I'm panting. I hiss. She had just cut me. She cuts me again.
"YOU PSYCHO BITCH! I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS! YOU'LL PAY!"
She PUNCHES! Again. AGAIN! I grit my teeth.
As if my...hadn't been violated enough already, she's now cutting along it. I CAN'T SCREAM ANYMORE! STOP MAKING ME CRY!
MY TORSO! NO WONDER IT HURTS! I SCREAM! I SCREAM!
I whimper. My throat's so sore. My pants are still down.
Am I moaning? Damn I feel good inside her. I keep my eyes closed, I can't believe this is happening and I don't want to see her.
"YOU SICK BITCH! YOU DID THIS TO YOUR BROTHER?" Ow! She punched me.
The PAIN when she STABS me, she's just sliding the knife UP and DOWN in my torso. I can't stop my tears.
IT HURTS! IT HURTS!
I CAN'T SCREAM ANYMORE! STOP MAKING ME CRY!
I screamed. I couldn't see anything. I screamed and cried. I was
hoarse. I smelled something. I was still trying to cry. I was exhausted. There was a mug
of tea in front of me. It was hot. Someone was telling me to do
something. He wasn't mad. A really icy hand held my face. The mug was
held to my lips. The hot tea burned parts of my mouth, but it was so
good to have something in my throat. I needed to breathe. I made a
noise and the mug went away. I kept blinking. So many tears. Why were
there tears?
I waved my arms. Where were the restraints? Something fell off. I was
cold. Why wasn't I lying down? Where's that light coming from? I was
warm again. I smelled the tea again. So good. I drank some more. Slowly
I lifted my hands up and whoever it was let me hold the mug. I clutched
the mug. So warm, so good. I sat there, breathing the scent. It was
nice. It was comforting.
"You okay, Tanya?" asked a gentle voice.
Oh, of course, I'm Tanya. Who was that talking? I blinked, a lot. "Luke?" I asked quietly.
"Yes?"
Oh, so I got his name right. Hey, he'd been holding a mug. "You made this tea." That didn't sound like a question.
"Yes, I thought you'd need it. Do you like it?"
I nodded. I could see now that I was in a kitchen, and I was sitting on the floor. Of course, this was the
kitchen. Luke was there, he was fine. The flashlight was next to the
kettle, which was plugged in. Wait, I didn't know this place still had
electricity? And that other light, that keeps following where I look.
Oh, that's the beam from my headlight. I never took it off. Wait.
"Where's the-where's my..."
"Your iron rod is upstairs. I couldn't touch it, it just burned. I'm sorry."
"I can get it later," I murmured. I sighed. "I think he doesn't hate me," I said.
"What d'you mean?"
"He felt my necklace," I explained, "the one Ray gave me. He saved me.
Why is it Ray can save me and protect me but get killed himself? Why
couldn't I do something?"
"You are doing something."
"But he's already dead."
I hadn't moved in a while. Luke knelt right in front of me and stared into my eyes. He leaned back a little.
"You're still in shock. Just keep drinking your tea and try not to
think of anything." He got up and picked up the flashlight. "There's
something I can get you, I think you'll need it. You just stay here,
you're safe here. Don't worry, I'll be back."
I barely heard the words. All I knew was, he opened the door, he closed
it, then the room was darker. The only light was where I looked. I sat
there breathing the tea, the tea Luke made for me, from Robert's
things. Robert's tea. I was wearing Robert's blanket. I shuddered. I
could see Robert, how he had appeared before me moments before. But
then I knew how he had gotten like that, why he was so ruined, and why
he had such tunnel vision. If only I could see the Robert Luke had
gotten to know.
I closed my eyes. They were hurting a little. When was the last time I had
closed them? I was definitely out of it, but my eyes felt like they had
stayed open. Luke brought me down here, didn't he? I'd have to ask him,
were my eyes open? The way that Robert appeared as a ghost, it was so
terrible. Carl looked awful too; he was dead, but he still suffered
such pain. I shivered when I thought of what I'd seen through the
peephole. I looked just like them, just like the corpses, just like the
suffering ghosts. Was that my destiny?
"There are many kinds of ghosts."
Huh? Where did that come from? I felt like I'd had a memory jerk.
"I've talked to most of them, I think."
The voice was friendly, relaxed. Whoever it was, he was tracing his mug, I knew that much. It was a habit he often did.
"The annoying thing about all this
though, is the problem of skeptics. I've always made sure no one was
around when I talked to a ghost, 'cos normally no one can see 'em. But
they're there. If someone catches me though, they instantly think I'm
crazy." He grinned. "I could see ghosts as long as I can remember, but when I was little, everyone thought I was just playing games."
Luke laughed with him. This was Robert, I was sure of it. He took a sip
of his tea, like I was doing; the taste was no different. He shifted on the chair.
"The oldest ghosts never budge from
their spot. For some reason they have a set routine, like ringing a
certain doorbell, laying flowers at a grave or walking along a route
that they did for a long time, like a cop on patrol maybe. They either don't know
they're dead or don't care. I've had wonderful conversations with them,
asking how things were in a town in their time. Although there was a
boy once, whom I couldn't speak to. He spoke German, I can't speak any."
Luke laughed. "Don't you find it weird, talking to all these ghosts? Chances are good you'll become one someday."
Robert shrugged. "If I'm
lucky, I'll have a simple death and be at peace, going to the beyond,
wherever that may be. If I become a ghost, I just hope I'll stay being
myself."
"What d'you mean? Can ghosts change?"
The Medium sighed. "A lot of
those that die tragically become a shade of their former selves. Sudden
deaths cause wanderers, who look for something or someone, or who are
trapped in their final situation. I've always found it heart-breaking
when they learn that they're dead and stuck, but usually they're at
peace when they've learned what happened to their family. The ghosts I
find really scary, and there aren't many of 'em, are the ones with
tunnel vision." Robert's voice was now quiet, tense, somewhat shaky. "They
are the ones who have been murdered, horribly, so they usually appear
how they were slaughtered. They're in pain, they can never escape it.
It's through this pain that they swear they will have revenge, and they
hunt for their murderer. They're nothing but pure anger and hate.
What's really scary, is that most of their memories are lost, they just
feel nothing but pain in their last moments, so finding their killer is
not simple. The first one I saw, he thought I
was his killer. They're impossible to reason with. Very few get their true revenge, so they're either
stuck in the same spot, haunting the place and forcing everyone away
from it, or they're banished, usually by setting fire to their corpse.
That is the worst possible fate and I pray I'll never become like that."
"You can't become like that, you're too nice."
I couldn't hold it in. I cried. I bawled. I wailed. I had witnessed the
full tragedy of one young man. Tears came down freely, so hot, so wet.
And I cried for every young boy down in the cellar, forced to join
Robert, or the shreds left of him, through no fault of their own. I
could just cry forever, I had never known such despair.
The door opened and more light came through. "Tanya? Tanya, what's the
matter? Please, drink your tea." I couldn't, of course. I tried to calm
myself down, but the tears wouldn't stop. I heard noises of rummaging.
"Here Tanya, come on, take it." He was trying to put a tissue in my
hand. I gripped it and slowly started wiping the tears away. "Please
tell me what's wrong."
"Robert," I whimpered. I sniffed. "He became...what he most feared."