Never Take Friendship Personal - Anberlin
I folded my arms across my chest, the objects that I’d stolen kept safely in my pockets, no need for them to know that those items.
I sighed loudly, glaring at everything around the room, but then, I felt a water droplet on the top of my head. Confused, I let my eyes roam the room for what seemed like days....until I stopped at the wall directly in front of me when I noticed a dark brown, rust colored line trailing down the wall. I tilted my head upward, letting my eyes follow the line up the ceiling, just above my head.
My mouth slowly turned into a smirk and from then, into a cackle. My breathing increased and heart started to rest beneath my chest. I immediately halted the plan that began to formulate in my brain. But I did allow myself spar one sentence, one phrase to everyone, regardless of if they could hear me or not, to everyone who hurt me, my friends, anyone who I ever thought about caring for…
I took the needle from my pocket and pulled down my pants so that my deathly pale thigh was exposed, I pressed the needle to the skin with one swift poke, not to injure, but just enough that I drew blood.
I prayed for the first time that they would not enter the room, using the red liquid as ink, I walked over to the wall…
Tears were streaming down Pete’s cheeks as he sat waiting, waiting for certain demise to come and claim him. He wrestled with the straps tying him down to the chair, thrashing against them hoping beyond hope that maybe, the millionth time of pulling they would loosen and break free, that maybe his life was a story, where the hero is always saved, just like the movies.
Someone would save him.
Breathing heavily, he stopped struggling against his binds, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, frozen with fear as the heard the locks of the concrete door began to open
His heart raced beneath his chest and pounded loudly in his eyes as the blood drained from his face, the door pushed open and the footsteps seemed to echo in Pete’s head along with the rushing of blood in his ears.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, knowing he was going to die. At least he was certain until a sweet, raspy and tired voice meet his ears, “Pete?”
His eyes snapped openly and stared out through bloodshot eyes, “Tabatha…Tabatha!”
He pulled at his straps again and Tabatha came in slowly, with wide pain-filled eyes, Pete watched as Patrick carried Joe, still out cold, with him.
Pete cleared his throat, “PJ, where’s PJ? She’s saving us right? She’s talking right?”
Tears filled Tabatha’s eyes and she reached for Pete’s hand, “Pete…Oh Pete.”
“What Tabatha?” Pete said weakly, “She’s walking slowly? They…they’re talking to her?”
“Tabatha!” Pete choked out, “Tabatha, she’s coming. Tabatha, she’ll be right behind you—damn it, Tab stop crying!” Tears rolled down Pete’ cheek, “She’s coming! I swear to you on our parent’s grave that PJ is coming!”
Tabatha shook her head and her sobs caused her shoulders to shake, “Pete…oh god, Pete.”
“Stop crying, Tabatha.”
“Pete, she’s not—“ Tabtha sobbed.
“Stop it, Tab.” Pete’s voice broke.
“Pete, were not—“
“Damn it, Tabatha what did I say?”
Tabatha sniffled as Pete raised his voice again, “What did I say damn it! What the fucking hell did I say!”
Tabatha squeezed her eyes tightly and nodded her head, choking out the words on her tears, “She’s coming,” Tabatha whispered.
“Say it louder, Tabs. It won’t happen if you don’t believe it.”
“She’s…she’s coming. “
Pete wept quietly for a few minutes and turned his head, looking past Tabatha and on to Pete and Joe, he whispered, “You’ve got to say it.”
Patrick shook his head no.
“Trick, please.” Pete pleaded, “You have to, we’ll die if you don’t.”
“No,” Patrick said stubbornly as he sniffled, “It’s not fucking Peter Pan. We’re going to die, Pete. There’s no one coming.”
“Oh god, oh god,” Tabatha wailed as she cried, “I hate her! I hate her so much, I hate her so—“ Tabatha broke off and fell to her knees, pressing her forehead against Pete hand that she kept securely cupped with her own, “I hate her” she chanted, “I hate her!”
The locks on the door began to unlock again, Pete looked up in hope, only to look death in the face.
“Hello my pets,” the doctor said laughing, he clapped his hands together, “Guess you’ve all gotten your farewells in, I assume?” He looked around the room happily, a wide smile on his face, “I’ll take that as a yes,” he winked at Tabatha and closed the door.
“Alrighty then, let’s get this party started, shall we? We’ll see who the last one standing is.” The doctor’s voice was carefree and amused even as he stared into the dark, desperate faces of the meager and weak.
“Let’s see…we’ll start off simple. We’ll bang you around a little bit, and then well…we’ll see where it goes from there. Now…how should I chose who goes first?” the doctor chuckled, “I could make you all choose, but seeing as all you have left would be each other and that would be cruel.” He spoke and a baby voice as he said this but his toned abruptly changed as he processed his idea thoughtfully, “Well…that’s not a half bad idea…but I could also just use…eenie, meeny, moe.”
He laughed, “It reminds of childlike innocence, so yes, we’ll stick with that one.”
The doctor lifted his arm and proudly pointed, starting at Patrick and going around in a strange, twisted circle. The doctor moved his pointed finger to the next head with each different word, with the order, Patrick, Pete, Joe, Tabatha. “Eenie, meeny, miney, moe. Catcha tiger by his toe,if he hollers let him go. Eenie, meeny, miney, hoe.”
The doctor laughed loudly, throwing his head back in sheer glee, “Well isn’t that just the most gosh-darn ironic thing you’ve ever seen,” he continued to laugh, “Must’ve been fate.”
Pete gripped his friend’s hand tighter and Tabatha’s face burned with tears and fear.
The doctor smiled and wrinkled up his nose at her actions, looking like he was watching a child trying to keep a toy that wasn’t there’s. As it was time for Tabatha to give up something that never belonged to her, as if her life was never her own.
“Take my hand, pretty girl.”
Tabatha shook her head, her brown hair swishing into her face, hiding her.
“Take my hand,” His voice was more forceful this time, “It’s your time, sweetheart. It’s your time.”
“No,” Tabatha moaned and held onto Pete’ hand for dear life, “I hate her. I hate her.”
Pete felt his hand go numb from the tight grip.
“I fucking hate her!” Tabatha screamed, as the doctor wrenched her away from Pete, her nails cut into Pete’ skin and crescent shaped scars began to drip blood. Pete cried and Patrick called for her but both of their sounds were drowned out by Tabatha’s screams, “You should’ve killed her when you had the chance, Pete! If she was dead, none of this would’ve happened.” Her voice was shrill and raspy.
“No,” Pete moaned, “No, it’s not my fault…”
“This is all your fault!” Tabatha cried, “Your entire fault.”
“Alright, alright” The doctor said annoyed as he dragged her, “enough screaming, God you people give me a headache.”
Before he reached the door, the locks opened and the door was pushed open, a short man wearing camouflage raced inside an whispered something into the doctor’s ear, while the man whispered, the doctor dropped Tabatha and scuttled back across the room, huddling against the farthest wall.
“You got to be kidding me? How the hell did that happen?”
“We don’t know,” the soldier said no longer whispering, “There’s a message on the wall…we think she’s injured.”
“A message, eh?”
The soldier nodded.
“Well then let’s see this message damn it!” the doctor exclaimed, “I don’t want anyone else to know about this, do you understand me?”
The soldier nodded reverently and left to show him the way out but as soon as the soldier left the room, the doctor’s eyes landed on Tabatha, glaring darkly at her, “Your time is running short.” With his last words, he swiftly left the room, only to leave a tense silence in the room.
Patrick was the first to break the thick tension when he started as Joe, who was propped against him began to stir. Tabatha and Pete looked over at Joe and as they did, they’re eyes met.
Yet, no apology was visible in either of their eyes. Just hatred, sheer hatred.
The doctor and the soldier stopped in front of the door that at one point, held the prisoner captive,
“An you’re telling me that she escaped?”
“Through this door?”
“Possibly? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Can those fuckers walk through walls now or something?”
“Not that we know of, sir.”
“We’ve got 50,000 filthy captives and you’re telling me that none of them have been tested for superpowers?”
“Well, sir…it’s just not plausible. You have a PH.D and I would’ve thought you would’ve been more…skeptical to this….phenomenon.”
The doctor snarled, “Open the damn door and test every fucking thing in this place for powers, I don’t care if you have to launch them into a wall for the next ten years, I want to know if they’ve got that power!”
“But sir, I really doubt if they do that.”
“Fine, how did she get out? Don’t we have cameras in this place?”
“Of course but…”
“We don’t use them.”
The doctor’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head, “Excuse me? Please, tell me that you didn’t just say that.”
“Well, sir.” The soldier began, “We have no reason to have any real security, we have soldiers protecting the officials and cameras on the walls to scare the captives when their out of their cells but…there are no real cameras.”
“So we have no security against these things? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No, no of course not.” The soldier added quickly, “There are plenty of people who are watching in the cells, just…not in the halls.”
“How many people know that?”
“Just you, some of the lesser soldiers and the General.”
“No one else?”
“Are you allowed to tell me this information?”
The soldier’s eyes widened fearfully, “Please, I…I know it was confidential! But…”
The doctor smirked, “Looks like you have bigger problems than I do, you don’t understand what’s going on here, do you?”
The soldier’s eyes began to water, “Please…please.”
The doctor laughed and shook his head, watching as four soldiers turned the corner and slowly approached the wayward soldier, “You really don’t get it.”
Two of the soldiers pounced and within seconds, the errant soldier was carried off, the doctor chuckled to himself, wondering if it would be too clichéd to say that he would never be heard from again.
The doctor pulled out a silver key and inserted it into the key hole, turning it to the left, right and then in a complete circle, the locks clicked open. Pushing his full weight onto the door, the doctor pushed the door open and eyes widened slightly shocked but also, impressed to the highest degree.
He smirked as he read the writing on the wall,
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn”
And just beneath that phrase was a name written in impressive blood red cursive, “Piper Jocelyn Wentz”
The doctor pursed his lips when he finished reading and he whispered, “You know what they say Piper, the devil you know…”
I crawled on hands and knees through the air ducts, wondering if they ever clean the interior of the building. I coughed as the dust crept into my lungs, irritating and constricting them. But I pressed on. I paused every so often to look through vents, peering in to the see the tales that each person might have inside, making up stories and names for them, wondering what their lives would have been like. If only.
If only we were not captured. If only we were not destroyed. If only magic existed.
Does it exist? Can magic feel this painful? Is the burning in my blood, the irritating feel of burning flesh beneath my skin the grace of magic? Is the chill in my bones, the ache in my heart the anger in my chest the telltale sign of magic?
I stopped thinking of the lives the people within the rooms could’ve had. Optimism in this world is beyond foolish. Those idealist are going to get themselves killed.
I cut off all thought of magic but I did not stop looking. I couldn’t stop. My eyes were glued to those being tortured. To the pain to the tears and the blood. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away.
I could’ve saved them, I could’ve saved many of them. But I refused.
Because I like to watch.
My needs come before theirs. Their pain equals my pleasure. I’m glad to be on the outside looking in. This is one store that I want to stare at, heart racing, adrenaline rushing…I want to see, for I am merely a spectator.
At least, in some aspects.
Selfishness, power, perseverance. That’s what I need to say alive. I don’t need people. Worthless, shameless, people.
I shook my head, pausing in the air as I attempted to gather myself together, I couldn’t afford to breakdown. Not me. Not now. Not ever.
I picked up the pace again, crawling on cut hands and bruised knees. Hands and knees, crawling, begging.
Little rocks sunk into my cuts, but I ignored them. Little pieces of stray fiberglass irritated and cut into my knees and shins, but I kept moving, kept bleeding.
The pain I feel now? Unimportant.
The pain I will inflict?
I smirked evilly. Devastatingly important.
I whispered to myself in a low voice, knowing that no one could hear but would forever be affected by my words,
“If I’m on my way to hell, I’m taking the whole world down with me. It’s time for these fools to meet their apocalypse.”
My crazed smirk widened as I continued crawling. There was only so much a person could do.
So much a person could take.
There’s only so much until their pissed off, fucked up, and irreversibly insane.
The air ducts came to a cross point leading to both the left and the right, I started to turn right when voices floated through the vent in the center, mere curiosity pulling me back to look though the vent. Nothing else.
Down below, through the cracks, I saw my wretched family. Cling to one another for dear life.
Joe paced woozily around the room, tripping up every now and then, only for Tabatha to rush to his side and catch him. I wrinkled my nose at the irony. If it had not been for me and my love for the boy, she would never have noticed him.
Tabatha, little oblivious Tabatha.
I peered down closer and looked at Pete. His eyes were wide-open, blank, staring at the ceiling, I almost felt bad, until I remembered his last words to me.
I felt the urge to jump down and write “FUCK YOU” in blood, Tabatha’s blood.
The offer was tempting but the feeling passed.
Instead, I watched little Patrick watch his sister, begging for a place in her heart, reverting to child-like innocence, to child ideals.
Poor Patrick, poor idiotic Patrick, he will never see his sister for the inconsiderate bitch that she is. If only he knew the dangers of a sister like her.
I chuckled under my breath, knowing Tabatha, she had already pleaded to trade my life for hers. Trade her brother’s for her own.
She’s a good imitation, though.
Imitating brains, kindness, the perfect child, the perfect girlfriend, the perfect sister.
However, I have always seen through her. Only she can go into hell and be covered in brimstone and yet come out smelling like a rose, and I remain the tarnished smoldering prisoner to its foul depths.
Only Tabatha. Only that bitch.
Finally, my eyes landed on Joe, beautiful, pretty, drug addicted Joe. A swell of emotions rose in my chest. All of them had an undertone of fury and jealously. He was mine. Mine before anyone knew him.
He was mine before he was perfect, before he was beautiful.
And yet, I have no claim.
I have no ownership.
My chest burned with the magic. My eyes stung with its effects, my heart overflowed in emotion.
I chuckled once more as four simple words slid from my lips, “Let them all die.”
Turning away from the vent, I made the right, crawling again. Begging. Hands and knees, hands and knees, begging for a chance at life, while I took others away.
xnataliex: ahaha thank you thank you! I already took care of that ;]
caro: aw thanks! :D
bloodyvalentine: that’s just who she has become. She’s the selfish bitch we all have deep down inside us that’s become full fledged.
let_it_go: gracias! :D
Natalie: aww, sorry :( but I’m glad you did! :D
Chicago-kid: ahaha well you’re actually supposed to hate her, but you’ve got reasons not too. Props for your emotional understand haha
Caffrin: you’d be surprised what she does.