It took me a great while, what felt like a great while to my messed up head anyway, to realize there was nothing holding me down. No part of me had been broken beyond repair. There were no ropes tying me up. I had not been drugged in any sort of manner. The harsh blow to the back of my head had been all that had been done, and that was the reasoning behind the overwhelming sense of entrapping motionless that had me stuck on the bed. My eyes did open every now and again. My brain was working enough to at least take in my surroundings and put them together into a cohesive picture. What it couldn't do, however, was get me to react to it. I knew I had been attacked and captured because I let my emotions make me a damn idiot who ran to the perfect location to give my mysterious enemies the perfect opportunity at me. I understood I was most likely in the very same room dad had been kept in. It looked like what he described. What I didn't do was care.
Not until the ringing in my ears started to cease anyway. Not until my body accepted the pain from its main center of control. Not until the practically blinding blackness in my vision shifted into muted colors. My eyes were able to keep themselves open almost constantly. I was able to move my fingers first, and then my ankles. Shifting onto my back came next, and, somehow, sitting up also became a possibility. There wasn't much more to see than what had been in my line of vision originally. There was the bed. There was a dresser and mirror. A desk with a computer, and a couch in front of a television. A workout bar was the closest thing to the one small window high up on the wall to my left.
I soon discovered a small bathroom was what was around the small corner. It was where I had to bolt to as a crippling, bursting explosion of nausea struck me for the second time. There was no way nothing was not going to come out this time. My incredibly poor sense of control had me half slamming into the door before I remembered how to work the knob. I begged whatever deity might listen to a non-believer like me to allow me to hold back the contents of my stomach until my stupid hands also got the lid of the toilet up. Maybe there was someone paying attention to me, for I was able to get any obstructions out of my way right as the most intense stream of vomit dove from my mouth into the bowl. I didn't even have time to kneel down or anything. Sheer luck was what kept it perfectly contained where it wouldn't cause a mess.
I collapsed to the ground for a third time that day when I got the slightest moment to breathe. My break didn't last long. The first bout of vomit was still swirling down the drain when the second batch came up. Unfortunately, it was a cycle that didn't feel like stopping in any sort of timely manner. I barely had enough strength to wonder if the cause was the emotional shock of the news I heard, the alcohol, the blow to my head, or a combination of the three.
It didn't take long before tears helped fill the bowl. Part of it was simply an instinctive reaction on my body's part from the fit that rocked me, but some dam that had been holding back my emotions broke as well. The grief that threatened me before nearly took complete control. I couldn't even focus on the awful stench that soon encapsulated the room or the burning of my stomach, throat, and mouth as the pain inside me was that much worse.
My sense of time was completely shot. It certainly felt like I was in that bathroom for hours on end, but the small, rational part of me knew that was definitely not true. The nausea did cease despite it feeling like it would now forever be my life. I switched from hovering over the toilet to hovering over the sink. My face was washed with cold and then hot water repeatedly until a semblance of calm, mostly brought about by exhaustion, had my shoulders shaking not quite as intensely as before. There was a great fear that more vomit would randomly pop out of my mouth the second I left the bathroom, but the risk had to be taken at some point. I returned to the room, and it was safe to say my fear was just a fear. The threat had passed.
Of course, that didn't mean I felt any better. Reality started to sink in more. The belief that this was all a horrible dream was becoming more and more distant with each passing second. I was in a horrible situation, and my absolutely stupid actions were going to add insult to injury to the wounds my family already incurred this day. Well, I assumed it was the same day. I grabbed the chair from the desk in order to get an easy view out the view. Given that there was nothing of importance to see, the idea that this was the same room dad had been kept in grew increasingly solid. I could also make out by the shades caused by the setting sun that it had been a few hours since I'd run off. There was no way I had been out for a complete 24 hours.
I paced for a good twenty minutes as I went over my options, each as desperate as the last. It really didn't take long for me to accept it was all useless. I knew some of my family's secrets, yet I didn't have experience functioning in that hidden world the way people like dad and Uncle Blaze did. If dad couldn't escape, there was no way in hell I was going to. This room was going to be my prison. Unless whoever my captors were decided there was no point holding me hostage. I would probably be dead soon instead. I prayed they would at least return my body or give my family some sort of closure that I was indeed gone. The last thing I wanted was for everyone else to have to go back to living with that constant questioning and horrible breed of hope that was as painful to keep as the thought that I might be gone.
There was little doubt that dad was already panicking. Everyone knew that the party wouldn't be going late into the night. Desire had been right when she said she knew I would be home soon. She would be curious on why I wasn't back. Someone would eventually find my motorcycle, and from there the confusion would set in. Calls would be made, and no one would have a clue where I was. I'm sure my phone would be going off non-stop. A quick patting of my pocket proved the obvious that it had been taken away from me. As soon as dad heard that I couldn't be contacted, he would know what had happened. He would know, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He couldn't contact Officer Noble. He would have to pretend as if he knew nothing.
My legs threatening to buckle again, I sat on the couch and remained motionless.
No one showed up that evening. There was not the slightest attempt at contact. Not that I was really that eager to jam food down my stomach, but I wasn't brought anything to eat. I was thirsty, but there was a plastic cup in the bathroom that allowed me to get a drink from the tap. The sun finally set. My exhaustion took over. I kicked off my shoes and crawled under the covers. I found sleep easily despite everything, and it was a peaceful night.
The next morning I woke up feeling...better. I definitely wasn't right, but there was a sense of complacency. I at least had an idea of what to expect if it was decided that I wasn't to be killed. I hoped that death wasn't on the cards considering I hadn't been killed in that spot in the woods, nor in the time I'd already been here. Wherever here was. I was most likely at least in the same state given the period of time between my blackout and the time I woke up. There was contemplation about taking a shower as the stick of the cold sweat I worked up during my little throw up session remained, but I really didn't need anyone coming in while I was naked.
It was a good choice to make in the end. I cleaned myself up as best I could with a wet washcloth instead, and I'd barely put my shoes on when the door abruptly opened and closed. A man strode in with the biggest, smug grin on his face I'd ever seen, and I loathed him with every fiber of my being before he even said a word.
"Welcome welcome, my new little worker."
My hatred was justified. The man before me was the same one who knocked me out.
I could be pretty sure that he was...
"Buckeye."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear your daddy told you all about me. I'm truly honored. Not that I doubted he would say anything. He and I got along so great, and it was apparent he tried to teach you of my tricks when it grew difficult to get you alone after your breach."
Buckeye took several steps closer. I took several defensive steps backwards.
"Good. Very good. You're already scared. That means your lessons will go a lot better than they did with your horribly stupid father. He really didn't learn well, I'm afraid to say."
I hesitantly glanced him up and down. His choice of attire didn't leave much space to hide a weapon, but that didn't necessarily mean there wasn't one somewhere.
I shuffled another step backwards, nearly tripping, when Buckeye took a much larger step towards me.
"Okay, so now that we're making it clear who's in charge, let's have a little chat. Your father promised me he learned his lesson. It hurts me to know he wasn't telling the truth. He was barely out of my sight when he thought he could be sneaky and share with you what he was supposed to be getting rid of."
"He didn't share anything with me on purpose. He became furious with me when he found out. It was an accident," I professed, keeping my eyes down, "What really happened was that my friend wanted to borrow some of dad's astronomy notes, which dad said was on his flash drive. He wasn't very clear on which flash drive it was though, so I took the wrong one. I was just trying to see where the notes were. I didn't know what those files were when I opened them."
"It doesn't make a difference why it happened. It happened. You saw the wrong things, and so you must be punished for it."
"I know that my dad's parents were murdered and not killed through an accident. That's seriously all I know about any of this. I can keep a secret. There's no-"
"You're talking back," Buckeye firmly interrupted with a sudden serge of anger that had me shutting up right away, "That's something you never do. This is your first real lesson, okay? I tell you how things are, and you agree. There's no room in between."
I nodded miserably, and hated myself as I did. Somewhere I knew I was doing the right there. I was in a situation way over my head. There was no sense of power or leverage I could claim. If I tried to fight back or refuse to give in, I would be hurt. The sight of the scar across dad's face remained clear in my mind. That or worse could befall me if I attempted to keep my pride. The only safe option was doing what I was doing. Being smart, avoiding danger, and biding my time until a better situation came along. Still, I was furious and frustrated as well. Some future police officer I was going to be. What good was making myself strong if I was terrified to throw a punch? How could I protect others if I couldn't take care of myself?
"Good boy," Buckeye condescendingly praised me before he stared long and hard with a smile on his face I really didn't like, "You know, the longer I looked at you, the more I get pissed."
I took a deep breath and held it to prevent myself from making a noise. Getting pulled deeper into conversation didn't feel like the best choice. Not that I had a choice.
"You're supposed to ask my why I'm angry." Buckeye explained as if I was a toddler.
"Why are you angry?" my voice cracked as I struggled to force the words out.
"Because I really fucking hate your family, you know that? None of you know your place, and both you and your damn father have such smug looking faces. You think you're better than me. You think you're heroes. The good and moral protagonists of the story you like to play in your heads. Your father was especially adamant about being noble in regards to your bitch mother. Wouldn't let me say a bad thing about her. I think he just didn't like to hear the truth. She would have loved her life if she hadn't tried to run away. What was going to happen to her if she hadn't? She would make some babies and pleasure some men. Well, she went ahead and did that anyway, right? How many siblings do you have? She seriously had to have loved having her legs open to make so many of you."
I went down the stupid path in that moment. I snapped before I realized I was throwing out that punch I desperately wanted to smash into Buckeye's proud face again and again. If I could hit him so hard so much that his face was the red one, I would gladly do it. Unfortunately for me, I truly was out on my league. Either by simple skill or by knowing dad who was so similar to me, Buckeye saw the hit coming a thousand miles away. My fist missed by such a margin you'd think I'd tried to strike the air behind me instead. I barely had time to realize my massive mistake when Buckeye's punch certainly hit his mark. I recoiled with such an intense pain stinging from my cheek that I had to wonder if I'd been hit by a fist or a brick.
Time to think was not a luxury for me, sadly. The attack didn't stop at one punch. My still aching stomach took the brunt of another hard jab, and punch after kick after punch followed. Trying to block or defend only made the abuse worse, so there was nothing to but contain my grunts of pain as much as possible until Buckeye had me pinned against the wall.
"Your whore mother is your weakness too. Nice to know. We're both learning all sorts of fun things today." he growled in my face.
Another punch slammed into my cheek.
"Now, I guess I didn't make your position clear enough. You fight back, you try to hurt me- you're the one who's going to be hurt. However, I'm glad in this instance that you did try to prove that you had some balls. I've been somewhat bored since I lost your dad as my plaything, and it feels really great having you to play with now. That's why I'll give you a choice. I can either keep hitting you in the face, or those balls of your can take some hits instead."
My lips quivered as my mind struggled. Still reeling from the attacks, getting my thoughts to focus was like trudging through mud. Was this a trick question? If I picked one, would Buckeye go for the other? Was there way to get out of getting hit more? Definitely not, for Buckeye dug his fingers into my collar, yanked me forward, drove me back into the wall with such force that the room seemed to shake, and locked his arm against my throat so tightly that I had trouble breathing.
"I told you to tell me what you want!"
"My f-face..." I only managed to whisper.
"What about your fucking face?"
"Hit me in the face..."
And so he did. Once. Twice. Three times. A few more times. Enough that I lost count.
One last slam into the wall finished it off.
"There. I think that's sufficient," Buckeye switched back to his frighteningly merry voice, clapping his hands together as if dusting them off, "Morning lessons are over. We can get you started on your job in the afternoon. Sit tight until then."
Blessedly, he didn't expect a response of parting. He simply chuckled at my terror, turned on his heel, and left the room. An audible click of a large lock followed. My legs returned to their newfound habit of no longer liking the weight of my body. The wall helped cushion the impact of the fall as I slid down. There weren't a lot of thoughts going on in my head. An alarming sense of calm overtook me instead despite my whole body shaking. The lone thing I could think of was what I was going to do in the coming days. If this was how dad live all these years, if this was going to be my life for ten years or longer...I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I would rather...
My energy was shot. The state of shock whittled me down until I actually fell asleep against the wall. I woke up some time later with a jolt, fearful Buckeye would be right there waiting so he could continue to have fun with me. A quick peek around showed me that was nothing but paranoia settling in. It was the bathroom that gave me the impression that I had some semblance of safety. There was no lock on the door, but any extra wall I could put between my and my captor was a great relief. Another relief was the cold water I drenched my face in for at least ten minutes straight. Buckeye hadn't gone for blood, but darker spots here and there signaled forming bruises.
Somehow, I began to grow hungry. I figured it was about noon when the growling grew unbearable. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I'd eaten, and I feared hunger was going to be a constant companion. Dad hadn't mentioned anything about them starving him, but it felt like something Buckeye would do. Then he showed up. He laughed at the way I shrank away from him, and yet his interest in me appeared to be lessened. Oh he taunted and teased me some more, for sure, but he motioned me out of my room, took me down a series of long hallways, had me sit down at some sort of small cafeteria, and got me a meal while he actually left the room until I was just about finished eating. Not a single thought about trying to run away came to my mind. It was much more likely Buckeye was testing me exactly for that. No, I kept myself planted in my seat and somewhat enjoyed my food that was pretty decent.
"I've got stuff to do, so I'm going to take you to Kahl. You'll be working in the warehouse everyday, and he'll be the one in charge of you."
Buckeye talked to me as he led me down more hallways after I ate. I nodded and spoke if it was something he required me to answer, but otherwise I kept my mouth closed tightly.
The warehouse was, well, a warehouse. There were a million boxes, small series of scaffolding, and huge metal crates of various colors and sizes scattered here and there. Only one figure was moving about them at the moment, and it was easy enough to figure out he was our target.
"New intern?" Kahl questioned with a raised brow.
"Yup. He'll be working full-time. He's had a bit of a morning, so start him with the basics first. He does seem to have some intellect on him unlike our last intern, so I expect him to be working the full floor by this time next week though."
"Any relation to that last intern of ours?"
Kahl glanced me up and down.
"Yes. The son is following in his father's footsteps."
"And is he an approved hire?"
"Like the higher-ups care about the peons. As long as the work gets done, that's all they care about."
A brief stare of disapproval reached Kahl's face. I dared to hope again. If Buckeye was acting without permission from the people in charge, there could be a chance I would be set free if they caught word of what was going on. Or they could care even less about me and have me killed just to make things simple. Either way, I made sure to keep my face away from the two men as they talked. They were content to let me take in the place, and any small distance I could get away from Buckeye, the better.
To have him finally take off again was an immense relief. Kahl turned to me and motioned me to follow.
"Name's Kahl. Yeah, it's a nickname. Don't bother asking for the full one. I'm the warehouse manager."
"What's Buckeye the manager of?" I dared to asked, not feeling much of a threat from my new companion.
"He's the district manager, although he mostly works here. Word of warning though. If you're really smart like Buck said, don't ask questions. It didn't help your dad any, and it won't help you."
My lips were sealed shut again.
"Now," Kahl continued to the tour, "Everyone else is on lunch break at the moment, but they'll be back before long. That's also when the next set of trucks arrive. They'll hook up to these doors. All the boxes in them need to be taken out, and then the appropriate boxes need to be put in them. In order to keep things simple, you'll only do unloading today. Each box has a letter and number on it. There's six letters, A through F, and it goes from 1 to 3. There's six walls here, which are the A through F, and there's three sections in each, which is naturally the 1 through 3. Just put the box in its corresponding spot, there's signs on the wall to help you out, and that's it. This center walkway here is for getting from one side of the warehouse to the other side quickly as it gets crowded when things are moving. Don't bring any boxes through here."
"Alright." I acknowledge quietly.
"And one more thing of advice to make sure you last. You're the only intern here. Everyone else is an employee. They're not going to care much about you. You're better off keeping to yourself if you want to avoid trouble. If you have a question about where a box goes or something like that, fine, but most of them don't like getting tangled up in intern issues, especially with those who haven't been approved."
Boy, did I really have a lot of questions after Kahl finished the tour. I remembered the warning well though and made sure my mouth stayed closed. The other men who filed into the warehouse after a bell went off gave me several curious looks, but I was soon shrugged off and ignored. The job...was just a job. It was exactly what Kahl described it to be. Ten minutes or so was all it took for me to memorize the letters of the walls and how far down was each section. Carrying the boxes was a bit of an issue. They were all surprisingly light, I even wondered if some of them were completely empty, but they were huge and cumbersome to hold. However, I was kept occupied. I managed to forget about the majority of my troubles as I worked diligently and became nothing more than another face hidden behind a box.
My muscles ached more from stress than exhaustion when I was given dinner and told I was done for the day. My faced ached too. The darker patches of skin were now incredibly sore. More cold water was applied to the pain, and the couch became my companion once more. I was far too drained to get emotional. All I wanted was a chance to find some way to escape. Not physically, but in my head. It would be the mental stress that would get to me more than any beating Buckeye would give me, of that I was sure. After sighing for the millionth time that day, I opened my eyes. Their gaze landed on the computer first. I had been thankfully given several means on entertainment. Might as well make use of them.
I got full confirmation this had been dad's room as well when I turned on the computer. Either caused by forgetfulness or done on purpose, and I believed the latter, the files hadn't been wiped since he last used it. There was no internet connection or anything like that, of course, but there were a few video games and the basic computer functions. However, all I could focus on was the wallpaper. It was a stick figure drawing of our whole family, naturally minus Glade and Doodle. I dove into the rest of the picture files. Dad, who had little artistic ability and only the cheap default drawing program to work with, had created hundreds of pictures. He tried to draw us. He tried to create what he must have imagined we would look like as we grew. The further I dug, the more I found. He had crafted calendars and lists that marked our birthdays as well as important life events he attempted to predict. He theorized I had my first date at sixteen, that I had chosen to attend Twilight North for college, and that I lived in an apartment with Midas and Azure. Other events included things like Wisp getting married soon after finishing college, which was right on, Prism decided to get into film, also correct, Desire wanting to be a teacher, pretty close, and Cerise being good at sports.
I went to bed with my brain crammed with the new information. I even managed a smile trying to imagine the lives dad imagined for us. Sleep came easily again thanks to the peace of mind. If only I'd been able to keep that sleep. There was no clock except for the one on the computer, so I had no idea what time it was when a loud, blasting horn went off. I shot up in total fright expecting the world to come to an end. What happened was that nothing happened. The world returned to its nighttime silence. No one came to get me. No one made any contact at all. I waited and waited and eventually went back to sleep. Unfortunately, another two hours or something passed when another horn went off. I caught the source of the noise then. There was a small speaker near the vent on the wall in front of me. I glared at it suspiciously, and went to bed much quicker. Like I suspected, the horn kept going off every couple hours to prevent me from getting a good rest.
When the dawn sun peeked through the window, I gave up. I found a better peace in the bathroom again when I took one of the longest showers in my life. My still aching face thanked me for it, as did my sore muscles. My nose as well. Two days without showering and me having done a decent amount of sweating did not mean good things for my aroma. More waiting came after I was cleaned, dried off, and dressed. My stomach growled incessantly once again. This time I thought to turn on the computer to know what time it was. It was nearly ten before Buckeye showed up.
"Sleep well?" he strolled in with that horrible, fake grin of his.
"Well enough." I answered, biting my tongue to prevent some kind of sarcastic comment that could usher in a repeat of the previous day.
"That's good to hear. I was afraid those horn blasts I scheduled to play through the system in your room might be a nuisance."
I said nothing. I had to be smart today.
"What's the matter? Don't want to talk to me?" Buckeye asked in mock hurt.
"Not particularly." I answered back after hesitating.
Being honest felt like the right choice. Selecting indifferent words as best I could as I had been also seemed like the safest way to avoid pissing off my captor. Yet, unfortunately, I would go on to learn that watching what I said or did or trying to be agreeable meant nothing. Buckeye abruptly lunged, swung, and hit my face as his target before I could so much as blink.
"Sorry. Just had to get that out of the way. You didn't have as much fear in your eyes this morning. Had to change that really quick," he explained before circling around me threateningly, "I'll apologize by making it up to you. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. You just have to listen. I'm going to let you in on a little secret I never told your dad, because I can feel we're going to be better friends. I mentioned yesterday about hating your family. It's not simply because you and your father are insufferable pricks who don't know their place. It's because your family destroyed mine. Never had a mom. Only my dad."
Buckeye stuck his head really close at that point with an intense glare before resuming his slow walk around me.
"He was bound for greatness. He worked for T.R.E.E. you see. Achieved so many impressive things with them, and I was determined to follow in his footsteps. I'd only just joined when that slut you call a mother sent it all tumbling down. We both would have been caught if we tried to escape the repercussions, so my dad willingly went to jail to keep me out of there. And you know what happened? He got stabbed to death barely a year later by some crazy inmate."
"Like it's our family's fault you both decided to be idiots and choose illegal organizations as your career?"
My sentence was mumbled in the space Buckeye took to breathe before he continued. I knew my words were one of the biggest mistakes I'd ever made it my life, but I had committed to them by the time I realized my extremely dangerous companion could hear me. I expected an immediate and harsh repercussion. I got it. Mom was my weaknesses, and apparently Buckeye's dad was his. Every other punch was accompanied by a loud and enraged demand not to say a single bad thing about his father ever again. It didn't take long before I was down on the ground on my back with Buckeye suffocating me with his weight as I could do nothing other than take blow after blow. Seeing him get so pissed was satisfying in a way, but it definitely wasn't worth it. An extra powerful blow sent blood cascading from my nose. Buckeye ranted on as if I was about to keep berating his family, but the only noses that escaped my lips were horribly contained grunts and cries of pain as the onslaught continued, and continued, and continued...
It didn't take long before tears helped fill the bowl. Part of it was simply an instinctive reaction on my body's part from the fit that rocked me, but some dam that had been holding back my emotions broke as well. The grief that threatened me before nearly took complete control. I couldn't even focus on the awful stench that soon encapsulated the room or the burning of my stomach, throat, and mouth as the pain inside me was that much worse.
My sense of time was completely shot. It certainly felt like I was in that bathroom for hours on end, but the small, rational part of me knew that was definitely not true. The nausea did cease despite it feeling like it would now forever be my life. I switched from hovering over the toilet to hovering over the sink. My face was washed with cold and then hot water repeatedly until a semblance of calm, mostly brought about by exhaustion, had my shoulders shaking not quite as intensely as before. There was a great fear that more vomit would randomly pop out of my mouth the second I left the bathroom, but the risk had to be taken at some point. I returned to the room, and it was safe to say my fear was just a fear. The threat had passed.
Of course, that didn't mean I felt any better. Reality started to sink in more. The belief that this was all a horrible dream was becoming more and more distant with each passing second. I was in a horrible situation, and my absolutely stupid actions were going to add insult to injury to the wounds my family already incurred this day. Well, I assumed it was the same day. I grabbed the chair from the desk in order to get an easy view out the view. Given that there was nothing of importance to see, the idea that this was the same room dad had been kept in grew increasingly solid. I could also make out by the shades caused by the setting sun that it had been a few hours since I'd run off. There was no way I had been out for a complete 24 hours.
I paced for a good twenty minutes as I went over my options, each as desperate as the last. It really didn't take long for me to accept it was all useless. I knew some of my family's secrets, yet I didn't have experience functioning in that hidden world the way people like dad and Uncle Blaze did. If dad couldn't escape, there was no way in hell I was going to. This room was going to be my prison. Unless whoever my captors were decided there was no point holding me hostage. I would probably be dead soon instead. I prayed they would at least return my body or give my family some sort of closure that I was indeed gone. The last thing I wanted was for everyone else to have to go back to living with that constant questioning and horrible breed of hope that was as painful to keep as the thought that I might be gone.
There was little doubt that dad was already panicking. Everyone knew that the party wouldn't be going late into the night. Desire had been right when she said she knew I would be home soon. She would be curious on why I wasn't back. Someone would eventually find my motorcycle, and from there the confusion would set in. Calls would be made, and no one would have a clue where I was. I'm sure my phone would be going off non-stop. A quick patting of my pocket proved the obvious that it had been taken away from me. As soon as dad heard that I couldn't be contacted, he would know what had happened. He would know, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He couldn't contact Officer Noble. He would have to pretend as if he knew nothing.
My legs threatening to buckle again, I sat on the couch and remained motionless.
No one showed up that evening. There was not the slightest attempt at contact. Not that I was really that eager to jam food down my stomach, but I wasn't brought anything to eat. I was thirsty, but there was a plastic cup in the bathroom that allowed me to get a drink from the tap. The sun finally set. My exhaustion took over. I kicked off my shoes and crawled under the covers. I found sleep easily despite everything, and it was a peaceful night.
The next morning I woke up feeling...better. I definitely wasn't right, but there was a sense of complacency. I at least had an idea of what to expect if it was decided that I wasn't to be killed. I hoped that death wasn't on the cards considering I hadn't been killed in that spot in the woods, nor in the time I'd already been here. Wherever here was. I was most likely at least in the same state given the period of time between my blackout and the time I woke up. There was contemplation about taking a shower as the stick of the cold sweat I worked up during my little throw up session remained, but I really didn't need anyone coming in while I was naked.
It was a good choice to make in the end. I cleaned myself up as best I could with a wet washcloth instead, and I'd barely put my shoes on when the door abruptly opened and closed. A man strode in with the biggest, smug grin on his face I'd ever seen, and I loathed him with every fiber of my being before he even said a word.
"Welcome welcome, my new little worker."
My hatred was justified. The man before me was the same one who knocked me out.
I could be pretty sure that he was...
"Buckeye."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear your daddy told you all about me. I'm truly honored. Not that I doubted he would say anything. He and I got along so great, and it was apparent he tried to teach you of my tricks when it grew difficult to get you alone after your breach."
Buckeye took several steps closer. I took several defensive steps backwards.
"Good. Very good. You're already scared. That means your lessons will go a lot better than they did with your horribly stupid father. He really didn't learn well, I'm afraid to say."
I hesitantly glanced him up and down. His choice of attire didn't leave much space to hide a weapon, but that didn't necessarily mean there wasn't one somewhere.
I shuffled another step backwards, nearly tripping, when Buckeye took a much larger step towards me.
"Okay, so now that we're making it clear who's in charge, let's have a little chat. Your father promised me he learned his lesson. It hurts me to know he wasn't telling the truth. He was barely out of my sight when he thought he could be sneaky and share with you what he was supposed to be getting rid of."
"He didn't share anything with me on purpose. He became furious with me when he found out. It was an accident," I professed, keeping my eyes down, "What really happened was that my friend wanted to borrow some of dad's astronomy notes, which dad said was on his flash drive. He wasn't very clear on which flash drive it was though, so I took the wrong one. I was just trying to see where the notes were. I didn't know what those files were when I opened them."
"It doesn't make a difference why it happened. It happened. You saw the wrong things, and so you must be punished for it."
"I know that my dad's parents were murdered and not killed through an accident. That's seriously all I know about any of this. I can keep a secret. There's no-"
"You're talking back," Buckeye firmly interrupted with a sudden serge of anger that had me shutting up right away, "That's something you never do. This is your first real lesson, okay? I tell you how things are, and you agree. There's no room in between."
I nodded miserably, and hated myself as I did. Somewhere I knew I was doing the right there. I was in a situation way over my head. There was no sense of power or leverage I could claim. If I tried to fight back or refuse to give in, I would be hurt. The sight of the scar across dad's face remained clear in my mind. That or worse could befall me if I attempted to keep my pride. The only safe option was doing what I was doing. Being smart, avoiding danger, and biding my time until a better situation came along. Still, I was furious and frustrated as well. Some future police officer I was going to be. What good was making myself strong if I was terrified to throw a punch? How could I protect others if I couldn't take care of myself?
"Good boy," Buckeye condescendingly praised me before he stared long and hard with a smile on his face I really didn't like, "You know, the longer I looked at you, the more I get pissed."
I took a deep breath and held it to prevent myself from making a noise. Getting pulled deeper into conversation didn't feel like the best choice. Not that I had a choice.
"You're supposed to ask my why I'm angry." Buckeye explained as if I was a toddler.
"Why are you angry?" my voice cracked as I struggled to force the words out.
"Because I really fucking hate your family, you know that? None of you know your place, and both you and your damn father have such smug looking faces. You think you're better than me. You think you're heroes. The good and moral protagonists of the story you like to play in your heads. Your father was especially adamant about being noble in regards to your bitch mother. Wouldn't let me say a bad thing about her. I think he just didn't like to hear the truth. She would have loved her life if she hadn't tried to run away. What was going to happen to her if she hadn't? She would make some babies and pleasure some men. Well, she went ahead and did that anyway, right? How many siblings do you have? She seriously had to have loved having her legs open to make so many of you."
I went down the stupid path in that moment. I snapped before I realized I was throwing out that punch I desperately wanted to smash into Buckeye's proud face again and again. If I could hit him so hard so much that his face was the red one, I would gladly do it. Unfortunately for me, I truly was out on my league. Either by simple skill or by knowing dad who was so similar to me, Buckeye saw the hit coming a thousand miles away. My fist missed by such a margin you'd think I'd tried to strike the air behind me instead. I barely had time to realize my massive mistake when Buckeye's punch certainly hit his mark. I recoiled with such an intense pain stinging from my cheek that I had to wonder if I'd been hit by a fist or a brick.
Time to think was not a luxury for me, sadly. The attack didn't stop at one punch. My still aching stomach took the brunt of another hard jab, and punch after kick after punch followed. Trying to block or defend only made the abuse worse, so there was nothing to but contain my grunts of pain as much as possible until Buckeye had me pinned against the wall.
"Your whore mother is your weakness too. Nice to know. We're both learning all sorts of fun things today." he growled in my face.
Another punch slammed into my cheek.
"Now, I guess I didn't make your position clear enough. You fight back, you try to hurt me- you're the one who's going to be hurt. However, I'm glad in this instance that you did try to prove that you had some balls. I've been somewhat bored since I lost your dad as my plaything, and it feels really great having you to play with now. That's why I'll give you a choice. I can either keep hitting you in the face, or those balls of your can take some hits instead."
My lips quivered as my mind struggled. Still reeling from the attacks, getting my thoughts to focus was like trudging through mud. Was this a trick question? If I picked one, would Buckeye go for the other? Was there way to get out of getting hit more? Definitely not, for Buckeye dug his fingers into my collar, yanked me forward, drove me back into the wall with such force that the room seemed to shake, and locked his arm against my throat so tightly that I had trouble breathing.
"I told you to tell me what you want!"
"My f-face..." I only managed to whisper.
"What about your fucking face?"
"Hit me in the face..."
And so he did. Once. Twice. Three times. A few more times. Enough that I lost count.
One last slam into the wall finished it off.
"There. I think that's sufficient," Buckeye switched back to his frighteningly merry voice, clapping his hands together as if dusting them off, "Morning lessons are over. We can get you started on your job in the afternoon. Sit tight until then."
Blessedly, he didn't expect a response of parting. He simply chuckled at my terror, turned on his heel, and left the room. An audible click of a large lock followed. My legs returned to their newfound habit of no longer liking the weight of my body. The wall helped cushion the impact of the fall as I slid down. There weren't a lot of thoughts going on in my head. An alarming sense of calm overtook me instead despite my whole body shaking. The lone thing I could think of was what I was going to do in the coming days. If this was how dad live all these years, if this was going to be my life for ten years or longer...I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I would rather...
My energy was shot. The state of shock whittled me down until I actually fell asleep against the wall. I woke up some time later with a jolt, fearful Buckeye would be right there waiting so he could continue to have fun with me. A quick peek around showed me that was nothing but paranoia settling in. It was the bathroom that gave me the impression that I had some semblance of safety. There was no lock on the door, but any extra wall I could put between my and my captor was a great relief. Another relief was the cold water I drenched my face in for at least ten minutes straight. Buckeye hadn't gone for blood, but darker spots here and there signaled forming bruises.
Somehow, I began to grow hungry. I figured it was about noon when the growling grew unbearable. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I'd eaten, and I feared hunger was going to be a constant companion. Dad hadn't mentioned anything about them starving him, but it felt like something Buckeye would do. Then he showed up. He laughed at the way I shrank away from him, and yet his interest in me appeared to be lessened. Oh he taunted and teased me some more, for sure, but he motioned me out of my room, took me down a series of long hallways, had me sit down at some sort of small cafeteria, and got me a meal while he actually left the room until I was just about finished eating. Not a single thought about trying to run away came to my mind. It was much more likely Buckeye was testing me exactly for that. No, I kept myself planted in my seat and somewhat enjoyed my food that was pretty decent.
"I've got stuff to do, so I'm going to take you to Kahl. You'll be working in the warehouse everyday, and he'll be the one in charge of you."
Buckeye talked to me as he led me down more hallways after I ate. I nodded and spoke if it was something he required me to answer, but otherwise I kept my mouth closed tightly.
The warehouse was, well, a warehouse. There were a million boxes, small series of scaffolding, and huge metal crates of various colors and sizes scattered here and there. Only one figure was moving about them at the moment, and it was easy enough to figure out he was our target.
"New intern?" Kahl questioned with a raised brow.
"Yup. He'll be working full-time. He's had a bit of a morning, so start him with the basics first. He does seem to have some intellect on him unlike our last intern, so I expect him to be working the full floor by this time next week though."
"Any relation to that last intern of ours?"
Kahl glanced me up and down.
"Yes. The son is following in his father's footsteps."
"And is he an approved hire?"
"Like the higher-ups care about the peons. As long as the work gets done, that's all they care about."
A brief stare of disapproval reached Kahl's face. I dared to hope again. If Buckeye was acting without permission from the people in charge, there could be a chance I would be set free if they caught word of what was going on. Or they could care even less about me and have me killed just to make things simple. Either way, I made sure to keep my face away from the two men as they talked. They were content to let me take in the place, and any small distance I could get away from Buckeye, the better.
To have him finally take off again was an immense relief. Kahl turned to me and motioned me to follow.
"Name's Kahl. Yeah, it's a nickname. Don't bother asking for the full one. I'm the warehouse manager."
"What's Buckeye the manager of?" I dared to asked, not feeling much of a threat from my new companion.
"He's the district manager, although he mostly works here. Word of warning though. If you're really smart like Buck said, don't ask questions. It didn't help your dad any, and it won't help you."
My lips were sealed shut again.
"Now," Kahl continued to the tour, "Everyone else is on lunch break at the moment, but they'll be back before long. That's also when the next set of trucks arrive. They'll hook up to these doors. All the boxes in them need to be taken out, and then the appropriate boxes need to be put in them. In order to keep things simple, you'll only do unloading today. Each box has a letter and number on it. There's six letters, A through F, and it goes from 1 to 3. There's six walls here, which are the A through F, and there's three sections in each, which is naturally the 1 through 3. Just put the box in its corresponding spot, there's signs on the wall to help you out, and that's it. This center walkway here is for getting from one side of the warehouse to the other side quickly as it gets crowded when things are moving. Don't bring any boxes through here."
"Alright." I acknowledge quietly.
"And one more thing of advice to make sure you last. You're the only intern here. Everyone else is an employee. They're not going to care much about you. You're better off keeping to yourself if you want to avoid trouble. If you have a question about where a box goes or something like that, fine, but most of them don't like getting tangled up in intern issues, especially with those who haven't been approved."
Boy, did I really have a lot of questions after Kahl finished the tour. I remembered the warning well though and made sure my mouth stayed closed. The other men who filed into the warehouse after a bell went off gave me several curious looks, but I was soon shrugged off and ignored. The job...was just a job. It was exactly what Kahl described it to be. Ten minutes or so was all it took for me to memorize the letters of the walls and how far down was each section. Carrying the boxes was a bit of an issue. They were all surprisingly light, I even wondered if some of them were completely empty, but they were huge and cumbersome to hold. However, I was kept occupied. I managed to forget about the majority of my troubles as I worked diligently and became nothing more than another face hidden behind a box.
My muscles ached more from stress than exhaustion when I was given dinner and told I was done for the day. My faced ached too. The darker patches of skin were now incredibly sore. More cold water was applied to the pain, and the couch became my companion once more. I was far too drained to get emotional. All I wanted was a chance to find some way to escape. Not physically, but in my head. It would be the mental stress that would get to me more than any beating Buckeye would give me, of that I was sure. After sighing for the millionth time that day, I opened my eyes. Their gaze landed on the computer first. I had been thankfully given several means on entertainment. Might as well make use of them.
I got full confirmation this had been dad's room as well when I turned on the computer. Either caused by forgetfulness or done on purpose, and I believed the latter, the files hadn't been wiped since he last used it. There was no internet connection or anything like that, of course, but there were a few video games and the basic computer functions. However, all I could focus on was the wallpaper. It was a stick figure drawing of our whole family, naturally minus Glade and Doodle. I dove into the rest of the picture files. Dad, who had little artistic ability and only the cheap default drawing program to work with, had created hundreds of pictures. He tried to draw us. He tried to create what he must have imagined we would look like as we grew. The further I dug, the more I found. He had crafted calendars and lists that marked our birthdays as well as important life events he attempted to predict. He theorized I had my first date at sixteen, that I had chosen to attend Twilight North for college, and that I lived in an apartment with Midas and Azure. Other events included things like Wisp getting married soon after finishing college, which was right on, Prism decided to get into film, also correct, Desire wanting to be a teacher, pretty close, and Cerise being good at sports.
I went to bed with my brain crammed with the new information. I even managed a smile trying to imagine the lives dad imagined for us. Sleep came easily again thanks to the peace of mind. If only I'd been able to keep that sleep. There was no clock except for the one on the computer, so I had no idea what time it was when a loud, blasting horn went off. I shot up in total fright expecting the world to come to an end. What happened was that nothing happened. The world returned to its nighttime silence. No one came to get me. No one made any contact at all. I waited and waited and eventually went back to sleep. Unfortunately, another two hours or something passed when another horn went off. I caught the source of the noise then. There was a small speaker near the vent on the wall in front of me. I glared at it suspiciously, and went to bed much quicker. Like I suspected, the horn kept going off every couple hours to prevent me from getting a good rest.
When the dawn sun peeked through the window, I gave up. I found a better peace in the bathroom again when I took one of the longest showers in my life. My still aching face thanked me for it, as did my sore muscles. My nose as well. Two days without showering and me having done a decent amount of sweating did not mean good things for my aroma. More waiting came after I was cleaned, dried off, and dressed. My stomach growled incessantly once again. This time I thought to turn on the computer to know what time it was. It was nearly ten before Buckeye showed up.
"Sleep well?" he strolled in with that horrible, fake grin of his.
"Well enough." I answered, biting my tongue to prevent some kind of sarcastic comment that could usher in a repeat of the previous day.
"That's good to hear. I was afraid those horn blasts I scheduled to play through the system in your room might be a nuisance."
I said nothing. I had to be smart today.
"What's the matter? Don't want to talk to me?" Buckeye asked in mock hurt.
"Not particularly." I answered back after hesitating.
Being honest felt like the right choice. Selecting indifferent words as best I could as I had been also seemed like the safest way to avoid pissing off my captor. Yet, unfortunately, I would go on to learn that watching what I said or did or trying to be agreeable meant nothing. Buckeye abruptly lunged, swung, and hit my face as his target before I could so much as blink.
"Sorry. Just had to get that out of the way. You didn't have as much fear in your eyes this morning. Had to change that really quick," he explained before circling around me threateningly, "I'll apologize by making it up to you. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. You just have to listen. I'm going to let you in on a little secret I never told your dad, because I can feel we're going to be better friends. I mentioned yesterday about hating your family. It's not simply because you and your father are insufferable pricks who don't know their place. It's because your family destroyed mine. Never had a mom. Only my dad."
Buckeye stuck his head really close at that point with an intense glare before resuming his slow walk around me.
"He was bound for greatness. He worked for T.R.E.E. you see. Achieved so many impressive things with them, and I was determined to follow in his footsteps. I'd only just joined when that slut you call a mother sent it all tumbling down. We both would have been caught if we tried to escape the repercussions, so my dad willingly went to jail to keep me out of there. And you know what happened? He got stabbed to death barely a year later by some crazy inmate."
"Like it's our family's fault you both decided to be idiots and choose illegal organizations as your career?"
My sentence was mumbled in the space Buckeye took to breathe before he continued. I knew my words were one of the biggest mistakes I'd ever made it my life, but I had committed to them by the time I realized my extremely dangerous companion could hear me. I expected an immediate and harsh repercussion. I got it. Mom was my weaknesses, and apparently Buckeye's dad was his. Every other punch was accompanied by a loud and enraged demand not to say a single bad thing about his father ever again. It didn't take long before I was down on the ground on my back with Buckeye suffocating me with his weight as I could do nothing other than take blow after blow. Seeing him get so pissed was satisfying in a way, but it definitely wasn't worth it. An extra powerful blow sent blood cascading from my nose. Buckeye ranted on as if I was about to keep berating his family, but the only noses that escaped my lips were horribly contained grunts and cries of pain as the onslaught continued, and continued, and continued...
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