How It All Started

I was in a dark room. Marie, in front of me. Well, I think it was her. Whoever this woman was had jet black hair that went to her waist. She had green eyes that shined beautifully but looked dull because of the dark circles under her eyes. She sat in a rocking chair holding a crying baby. Her skin was pale blue, and the baby, I couldn't see but I could hear him. I stood in front of them. The only light in the room was one in the back behind her chair. The lady looked right at me as she sang, her flawless voice, haunting me. It was so familiar, as if I've heard it before. Just like every other times this dream happen, I can't talk. Sometimes when I can, the only words that come out are, "Marie, why?" or "Help, please. I’m begging!" No matter how hard I tried to scream, it came out as a hushed whisper. This time I try to ask her who she is, but instead I hear a voice call 'my' name, instead. "Kimberly let’s go! Time for school, hurry up!" I snap out of my daydream, correction nightmare. My step-mom Chelsea stands across the living room, looking as if someone had just broken a nail, completely shattered. My mother and father both got murdered when I was only 3 years old. All I had left after that was my big sister, Marie. She was at the lake at the time of the murders. My parent’s case hasn't been solved yet. Marie wasn't a suspect though. She was only four years, and had been with our Aunt Stephanie, who was irresponsible and an alcoholic. She had left Marie, in the car almost the whole night. She went to jail for that, since Marie almost suffocated with the stiff hot air in the car. Chelsea isn't my step mom. Well she's a foster mom, she's a priss and hates getting dirty or wearing the same outfit more than once a month. I have a tom-girl personality. I'm girly and tomboyish, so were opposites. Chelsea gives me my black leather Coach purse, and tosses my backpack and lunchbox. She shoves my Converse to me, as if there 'Last season’s L.E.I. jeans' or something. I put my lunchbox in my backpack, grab my converse and slide them on and throw on my backpack. My purse is already in my hand, and I'm ready to go. I go out of the front door and slide into the passenger seat of Chelsea's hideous pink Corvette. About two minutes of staring at the blackened night at six-twenty in the morning Chelsea hops in the driver seat. As soon as she gets in her hands move straight to the radio, turning it off. She hates music, period. Not classical, rock, country, rap, R&B, or even pop. She says that singers are worthless people that have lipo. , mental issues, alcohol addictions, and drug attachment. People that are fake, if only she knew she was a life size Irish Barbie doll. "I won't be home until the sixth." "Why? Where are you going?" I ask. Chelsea presses the gas pedal so hard, I slam against the back of my seat. "Nowhere special, just shopping in Dubai. They built this mall that’s like so pretty! It has a ski lodge in it, and almost a hundred Coach Stores. But that’s not the reason I'm going." she pauses, then smiles. "Jennifer Aniston is going to be there!" she yelps excitedly. "Oh. Tonight when you come back, can we go to the movies together? They have this movie called Seven Screams Till' Lights Out, that is so awesome! I love the previews, and it's supposedly a five star movie." We exchange looks, different species it looks like. I'm smiling ear to ear, and she’s confused from her fake lashes, to her alien-ized nails. "Didn't you just hear me, Kimberly? I'm not coming back until next week. I need some time to think." She says, and makes a turn at my school's driveway. The car, comes abruptly to a stop, I unbuckle myself, and am about to open the door, when a hand touches me. It's Chelsea's, obviously. "Don't forget your keys." she says, then hands me a zebra striped key. I thank her then step out of the car and run to class. On my way I bump into Zach, my crush and my occasional talking friend. "Hey." I say. He runs toward me, and nearly knocks me off my feet. He smells so sweet, and looks so mysterious. He slips off his glasses, and hides them. It's actually kind of funny in a cute way that he hides them just from me, like I wouldn't approve of them or something. Of course I would, I wear contacts, glasses don't bother me. "You know the tardy bell rang, right?" he asks teasingly. "You know the girls bathrooms, that way right?" I reply. We both choke out a laugh, except his sounds almost real. "Yeah, I know." He says, laughing again. I continue walking, thinking the conversations over, usually we dont talk this long, he just says one thing, I answer then boom, it's over. He doesn't move until I make it to the entrance of A hall. "Wait!" he calls. I continue to walk, as if I didn't hear him. Instead of leaving me alone, he runs toward me again. I can't help but smile, when I catch his eye. He opens the door for me, "Ladies first." he says. I giggle like a retarded school-girl. We walk all the way down the hall not talking. When I reach my locker I've almost forgotten he was there. But he was, Zach Foul, standing right next to me. I bend down and do my combination, 2-12-6. Then I grab my ELA book, and binder. When I stand again, there he is. For a moment I think I might faint because I almost fell, getting up and so I grabbed Zach's hand. The joy of being with him. "Sorry." I say, trying to take my hand back. "It's ok, not your fault. It's just your hand, my fingers dont bite, I promise." he tells me, laughing. "I know, well I got to go, bye. Talk to you later." I reply. As soon as my hand touches the door knob, he comes so close to me, he might be able to hear what I'm thinking. Then he whispers, "Meet me at break." and makes a run for it. As if I'd say no, or something. For once after Marie's accident, I actually smiled and laughed. And they were real. Thank you Zachary Foul.

I open the door, having an immediate response from thirty-two other eyes. My cheeks start to burn, because I hate 'this' kind of attention. I grab the question of the day and go to my seat, being watched. When I take out my pencil and begin to write their attention turns to the announcements. "Good morning students and faculty. This is a clear, sunny Monday were having so far. Today we are having an assembly in second hour at nine twenty. Where we will be talking about Accelerated reader and TRRFC tickets. Were also having performances from the cheerleaders today. Have a wonderful day, thank you.". Our principal Mr. Prescott screeches over the intercom. After they announced everything our history teacher, Ms. Blan started talking. It was hard to listen though. I just couldn't concentrate. Every couple of seconds felt like minutes, I looked at the clock impatiently. Time felt like it stopped and there I was the same place as I was this morning.
"Are you just going to sit there?" a girl said. I lifted up my head and saw Stacy Repsen standing in front of me. "Huh?" I asked confused. "Were partners, duh. Didn't you hear, Ms. Blan said we have to do a history project on an event, or state." she paused taking in my expression. "We had to have partners and we got each other." she explained slowly. "I'm not dumb, let’s start." I replied swiftly. She sat down in the empty desk next to me. "We can sit by our partner until deadline. So what do you want to do for the state?" she asks. I think over our fifty options. "We could always do an event, right? Wouldn't it be easier than doing it on a state?" I say. She looks at the clock and back at me. "It's almost time to go, we can talk about it later. Oh, by the way heres my number." she takes a pen and paper then jots her cell phone down. The bell rings and the intercom comes on. "Seventh graders come to the auditorium. Thank you." a womans voice says. I'm guessing it was Mrs. Asplyn, the assistent principal. I grabbed my stuff and then headed out the door. Outside, Zach was there. Talking to a girl, probably his new girlfriend or something. I walk by and catch sight of the girl, she's really pretty. She's short and scrawny in a super-model way though. The only thing that made her look ugly was all of the makeup on her face, she passed as a clown from Zombieland. If I closed my eyes and looked the other way she was really beautiful. I do so, to prove my point to myself. I end up colliding with some person in front of me. "Watch it!" a guys voice says, pushing me out of the way. I hit the lockers on the right of me. The guy looks over and I catch sight of humanity. I half smile, half glare. He smiles and then zombieclown shows up and links her arm in his. Then just like that all of that humanity slips away, and they walk away. I let people slide past me until I'm all by myself in the hall way. I decide to skip the assembly, and walk out the doors to the courtyard. "Your here too?" a familiar voice calls from behind me. I hear quick footsteps getting closer. I've felt this feeling, this memory like it's happened before. My first instinct is to run. But I hear a voice call, "It's okay. I'm here, it's safe." So right when I'm about to step forward I turn around. No one there, maybe I was imagining it. But I see a figure dash in the bushes which makes me hesitate. Suddenly someone fingers intwine with mine. I look to my left and my voice shuts off when I try to scream. But just as my heart told me, I'm safe. There Zach was standing there smirking.

I would've never forgot the walk in the meadow, but then the medicine hit..

"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked. "You were so scared." he says laughing but in a subtle funny way, not rude-like. We stood there for a few moments, holding each others gazes. "Why are you staring at me like that?" I ask Zach, walking off. He follows immediantly, and answers my question, "Your eyes." He says. I scan my face with a handheld mirror in my purse. I felt so stupid. I looked at him and I was waiting for him to say something like, "You got a pimple!" or something childish like that, thats how boys are. Whether or not their in seventh grade. But instead he surprised me. "Don't freak out. I mean their beautiful your eyes, when you smile they sparkle. It's unique." he says. I didn't know what to say, was he flirting? With me?!? Oh god, I need to go. Now. "I got to go." I say running off into the meadow and far from the track. "Kimberly!" he calls. I stop and turn around. I can't leave him, not like that. But I can't stay. "I'm sorry, thank you but I have to leave." I yell back. My voice echoes and as if on perfect timing, to much of a coincidence someone grabs me. From behind, I look ahead and Zach's gone. "Zach let go. I'm not scared." he doesn't say anything, but he breaths heavily. "If you don't answer me, I swear Zachary Foul, I will scream." I say, I can feel his hands grip tighter around my twisted arms behind my back. Zach grunts, as if he thinks I'm bluffing. "Fine. 3...2...1..." I whisper, then right when I belt out Zach he quickly clamps his hand over my mouth. I struggle to remove his greasy hand, but he puts something on a napkin and puts it under my nose. The smell, the taste in my mouth, my vision blurred and something happened.
Suddenly, my mind shut off.
'It's not Zach.'. Was my last thought.

I don't know what time it is. I haven't got a clue where I am. God, I can't even remember WHO I am. My vision is blurry, so I have to blink several times before my eyes settle. I'm on a cold, moist, concrete floor. There's not a window in the room I'm in. So I don't know whether it's night or day. A door creaks and I shut my eyes. Heavy boots pound against the floor and I hear something metal slide against the concrete getting closer. It sails toward the wall and the person leaves the dark room slamming the door, and as they do the metal bounces against the wall again. For a moment I sit there in silence. Trying to take it all in and figure out who I am. I have nothing to go off of. I look myself over and find blue bruises running along my left calf, and soon to be scars on my right arm. My right eye-sight is shady and I have a hard time making out the muddy wall in front of me. I'm guessing it's raining outside, because the whole floors filled with water. I hadn't just noticed until now, that it was ankle deep and my hair was wet since I was on the floor. I tried to remember, to pull something out of the back of my mind. But my head persistently held it back. I could only remember snippits of memories. I remember walking somewhere with a boy, around my age I guess. I could never see his face though, it blurred right through. I always tried to touch his face, or say something very important, but the words were scripted. No matter how I hard screamed 'Who Am I?' or 'Where are we? Who are you?', I always ended up saying, "Why are you staring at me like that?" and the boy answered my question with "Your eyes.". Other times when I would not dream about him, I dreamed about two little girls who were sisters. One was named Marie, but the other I never heard. Marie would call her, Kay, or sis. Maybe her name was Kay, I would never know most likely. For some reason I wanted to tug out more information about them. I loved dreaming about them, they made me smile, because they were happy. I wish the little girls were here to make me be happy, like they were. But I will probably never leave this cold, dark, empty room. I will never see the sun again, or the face of the boy I once knew. "I can't give up." I hear someone say. After seconds of silence, I realize the stiff voice, was me.
My curiosity gets the best of me, and I slide across the floor, trying to be quiet and reach the metal bowl on the concrete. Inside there's a salad, and a note. I swallow down the whole salad, so quickly with my hands that I didn't even have the crispy taste in my mouth long. I wasn't as hesitant with the salad as I was with the note. The man could've poisoned me and I wouldn't even know. After contemplating what I should expect on the paper, I open it.

In script it says, "Hello, Kimberly, I hope you like the food I made.
I will not hurt you, if you listen to me. Your
next meal will be in a couple of hours. When I
am able to trust you completely you will get
a bed, and a clock and all of your necessary
items. But for now, you shall enjoy the cott
I am bringing." Sincerely, R.S.

Who was this man? Is that my name, Kimberly? What's my last name? Who's R.S.? So many questions, so little time.

Days went by. Months it felt like. I haven't had any more messages from R.S., but I have remembered some stuff. That my name really is Kimberly Ryan. That I'm a seventh grader in middle school. I even turned thirteen a month ago, I think. I still sleep on the now dry floor. I have only seen R.S. once, and all I saw was his short black hair. He came in, thinking I was asleep and dropped off four outfits of clothes, that remained untouched in a corner closest to the door. Like he had promised he didn't hurt me....yet. I hear heavy footsteps. I must be quiet, but I can't. Our first real encounter.
The door swings open. :I see your awake." he says. "Where am I?" I ask, my voice shaking. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry." he says, setting down a cott, and sitting next to me on the floor. I scoot towards the wall, but he grabs my hand. "I wish you knew. You understood. I won't hurt you." he says, rubbing his other hand on my face. I start to cry, and without thinking bury my face into his thick T-Shirt. I didn't even feel stupid, because he was the only person I could hold onto. "It's ok." was all her said. We sat there so long, I almost forgot the fact that he kid-napped me. "Why? Why did you do this? To me?" I ask in a hush voice as if someone else is here and this is a secret only he can know. "Take you? I can't tell you. I apologize." he replied. I let go of his shirt, and stand for the first time in a long time. My knees give out, and I fall back to the ground, my head hammering against the floor. "Are you ok? Kimberly? One minute, I'll be right back." he says. My eyes are blurry, and as I watch as two of him leave the room I notice he leaves the door open. I stagger to my feet, and walk uncomfortably out of the room and up seven stairs. Light catches my eye, it springs out everywhere. I shift to my right foot and clumsily run to a door that looks as if it leads outside. "Kimberly!" I hear R.S. scream. "Where are you?" He asks angrily. "I walk out the door and run. Run where, I don't know, all I know is I don't look back. "Come back!" I hear him yell, from the porch. This is where my mistake happens. I look back at him. My balance collapses, and I hear him running. Then it feels like just the beginning.

She's lying on the ground, her feet in a tangle of branches and her hands lay helplessly in the muddy dirt. I pick her up and she tries to speak, but all that comes out is, "Yuh" and bits and pieces of other in-complete words. I am taking care of a child, when thats all I am. I don't know how I live with myself, but I just can. Even though I can, theres not a moment in my day when I don't think about my parents, murder. I was only thirteen, not that long ago, I am only fifteen now, but I feel much older. I push them out of my mind, and began to ponder what to do, once she wakes up. I enter the house, and close the front door and lock it. The last thing I need is for her to hurt herself even more.

She doesn't have any cuts amazingly, but she has a number of scratches. I set the last pillow on the cott, and lay her under the bed. Kimberly is like a beautiful nightmare, and if only she knew as much about me as I know about her, if we met differently, she might've gave me a chance. We met online, a month ago, and we talked a lot. Now that we met, I can't believe my eyes. I have dreamed about Kim every night, and she doesn't even know my name. Well, she does, but she can't remember since I took her. It's only a matter of time, till' she pieces everything together.- R.S.

Getting closer and Receiving the Message

I'M ONCE AGAIN IN THE SMALL DESERTED ROOM, but instead of being on the ground, which has a large rug covered in black fur, I am laying on a mattress with a blanket and proper pillows. I have a Tv, not a flatscreen, just a small one set atop of moving boxes, and I also have a bookshelf. The thing that catches my eye the most is a tiny chiseled out window. I get up off my bed and go to look at it, as if I've never seen daylight. I can barely see it, and there are bars on it where I can't put my arm through. It looks around noon, and I'm so pre-occupied looking at all the other stuff R.S. has put in here, that I don't realize that he is standing behind me. I turn around, surprised and filled with shock. "Do you like it?" he asks me. I nod, trying to force a smile, he looks like he didn't hear me. So I reply, "Yes, I like my room, it's very welcoming despite the unpainted walls, and the deadly spiders crawling around. Very lovely!" I spit sarcastically. "Don't be stubborn, it won't get you anywhere in life." He says, his jaw tightening. "Your lucky I was nice enough to give you all of this, after the stunt you pulled two days ago." he states calmly. "Yes you are nice, so nice that you kid-napped me, and your going to kill me. You ragedy,piece of nothing!" I scream and throw a heavy book at him, it lands on his chest, and falls to the floor. He doesn't move, like he didn't even get a blow to the chest, he doesn't hesitate either. His next move horrifies me. He shoves me into the wall and I hit the wooden door. I don't know what to do. I open up the door, and run into the darkness and not up the stairs. Theres a room with a light so I quietly slip into it, and luckily it has a lock. "You can't hide forever, Kimberly!" I heard him scream. Loud footsteps echoed throughout the empty house. It went quiet, when I thought it was safe and went to unlock the door-bang! Out of the blue, the angry man punches the door...not once or twice-but three times. All at once making a hole in the old, wooden door. I ran, hesitating until my eyes met his gaze. He can't hurt me. No. I ran, taking lefts and rights until I came to a door. I ordered my feet to screech to a halt then hide. Theres no way I could get past it. Unlike the other door it wasn't made of weak wood. Instead, it was made out of some kind of durable iron or metal. "Kimberly! I don't want to hurt you. Lets be friends!" I heard R.S. yell throughout what might be the basement or a large tunnell.


Texte: Alexis Renee Chavers
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.09.2012

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