One of Those Days...

Sunday, January 25, 2009

I'm sure everyone has those days when they just don't want to work. Some more often than others - I fall into that 'others' category. But today is that type of a day. Nothing seems interesting, there is a lot of work but no inclination to do it, people are frustrating... yeah, the whole lot.
So for right now I'm taking a breather and am going to write instead of freaking out. I over-think and over-do, but I feel just so sluggish today that I want none of it. None, I tell you!
[Did I forget to mention? I actually am keeping up with this writing experiment, as I said I would. Nothing makes sense or is in relation - but I am getting a lot of interesting ideas, and it just feels good to put pen to paper. Yay for small changes!]

“Place your fist in your mouth and breathe through your nose. Don’t try to talk.”
I looked desperately from one side of the room to the next – Jack was lying unconscious in the corner and Lilya was nowhere to be seen. The metal folding chair beneath me bit into my skin as he cinched my right arm to it with duct tape. My other hand I balled dutifully into a fist and stuck it between my teeth.
“Good,” he said, putting duct tape over my cheeks and hand for extra insurance, “Very good.”
His mask was askew on his head, listing to one side to expose a pale white spread of neck and a tuft of brown hair. I watched closely as his green eyes moved hastily from his work to the bag in his hand – he was wearing contacts.
“I’m going to ask you questions. But you’re not going to answer with sounds – you’re going to nod your head for yes and shake it for no. Got it?” I nodded.
A door opened onto the grand ballroom below us and I saw a sliver of light from between the bars surrounding the balcony. The masked man crouched down for a second, waiting for them to pass, his eyes flicking even faster from side to side. Would they see us? Would they look up? My heart sunk back into my stomach as they exited the room, closing the lavender doorway behind them.
“Ok,” the man said in a half-whisper after the door had closed, “Do you have the money?”
I must have given him an odd look, because he suddenly balled his hands into fists. My fingers lost feeling inside my mouth – I had bitten down on them. Hard.
The man came closer, his all-black outfit now looking faded as he approached me. Right before his first kick knocked me to the ground, I remember thinking
what a lame villain.
Then I was down, tasting blood from my fingertips as they sheared open with the force of my teeth. I tried to release the hand from between my jaws but the tape held it firm – I bit down again, trying to stop the flow of liquid streaming from my eyes.
Where is Charlie? Where is Charlie? I kept thinking; my head swirled as I looked up through a fresh spring of tears.
“Do you have the money?” he repeated. Desperation and impatience were edging at his tone. What could I tell him? I had no clue.
The second kick rocked me back against the wall, blood from my fist trailing down onto the floor as I skidded over it. I didn’t feel anything at first, but I saw bright pinpricks of light as the wind rushed back into me; my stomach had imploded under the pressure.
Charlie? Charlie? Charlie?
My thoughts were the calmest thing about me. Everything seemed like a surreal dream – from experience, I knew that I was losing consciousness.
“Do you have it? DO YOU HAVE IT?” the man screeched at me, his exasperated tone and high volume ringing in my ears. But everything was slowing down now… the room was spinning and it was so terribly slow…
“Do you have it? Do you have it?”
I seized up. A female voice was right over me, speaking so hurriedly that I felt nervous. Where was I? I didn’t know. By the time I realized that I had woken up, there were hazy people all around me, standing or leaning against white walls. I still didn’t know where I was, but I knew it wasn’t the ballroom – the lack of lavender tipped me off.
The woman was still shouting for something, whatever ‘it’ was, but now that I wasn’t on the cold balcony floor, I relaxed. My mouth felt open and small; my fingers were uncurled over the sheets beside me. I opened my eyes wider, trying to focus my vision.
“Leah?” one of the hazy people said, and I turned my head to the sound of their voice.

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