My sister laughed loudly, and mimicked him. Suddenly the Cheetah Girls became the background noise instead of the chicken man. We both mimicked him.
"Could you quiet down?" Mom called.
We started watching the Cheetah Girls more seriously, until the Chicken guy came back on.
"Brawwk!" My sister mimicked.
BAM! The door opened.
"Didn't you hear your mother?"
He looked mad.
And then my sister was getting beaten. He grabbed my leg and dragged me to the foot of the bed, then beat me.
"Don't look at me like that!"
I could only glance at my sister before his hands wrapped around her neck, changing whatever expression she'd had before that pissed him off so badly.
I was eight years old. I never watched Disney Channel after that.
I finally woke for good in a grassy area.
I don't have a sister, I thought. I've never watched the Disney Channel....That never happened to me.
A buzzing sound interrupted my exhausted thoughts, and a snap realization hit me. I was outside. Whoever the fuck attacked me took me outside. Which means they were probably - Oooohhhhhhh, Morgan was gonna be piiissed.
But entering worry mode. Who, what, when, where, why? Minus the what, when, and where, because I clearly had that figured out. Okay, seriously...who attacked me and took me outside? And to an area I hadn't been to before. And what was that buzzing sound?
I looked around and saw...little...yellow things. Like jackhammers with brains and eyes. That was fucked up.
Then I felt a heavy weight fall on me, which sent me into a panic attack. I started flailing under the weight, like a worm since my wrists and ankles were bound. And I really don't like having to compare myself to a worm.
"Stay fucking still, Duplicate!" the weight, which I now assumed was a person, said.
Of course, I could only assume it here, because God only knows what else has verbal capabilities in this world. But, really, that wasn't that important, was it?
He just called me a "duplicate," something only Emma had called me. And she's batshit insane. He was probably batshit insane. And about to do...what?
He answered my question, by slamming his elbow, which conveniently had something long and pointed on it, into my lower arm, causing it to snap. I shrieked in agony, while he hissed in my ear. Eventually I quieted down, but continued to sob. Apparently, though, he wanted to hear me scream, because then he kneed me below the waistline.
"FUCK!" I cried.
"You don't belong here, Faggot," he told me.
Okay, that word I recognized. Once the pain eased enough so that I could lift my head up, I managed to spit in his face.
"You don't deserve this," he said, grabbing my manhood.
He flicked open a pocket knife.
"It needs to be...removed,"
"Morgan!" Gerard greeted me, back in my own head. "Where is he? Did you see him? Is he okay?"
"Oh, shit" is all he has to think?
"No," I replied absentmindedly.
"No? No to which?"
"No to the last two," I said. "Get Mike or Daniel."
He ran off to find one of them, although at that moment I couldn't feel entirely sure he knew either of them. I tried to plot it out in my head, but it was harder since I didn't know Frank's attacker. It wasn't an Illusionist, it wasn't one of my creatures, and it didn't look like any of Conall's creatures...but it may have been one of my cottage dweller. I don't know all of them...although, I try to make sure hate crime punishments are enforced pretty harshly, and this definitely seems like a hate crime.
"You know I'm not good with conscious ones," Mike said as he approached me.
"I know," I said, already running toward the door that led outside. "He may not be once we get to him, though."