-o-

“Stupid fucker!” I shouted angrily at the ancient television as the fuzzy screen blinked off. I growled in frustration and huffily pushed myself up from the dank, moth-eaten couch. I stormed over to the tiny set and grasped the hand crank on the side of the box. I begin winding it. I guess I was a bit too enthusiastic because the old ass thing broke. I stared at the snapped-off part, dumbfounded.

“Awww come on!” I yelled, throwing the useless crank across the living room. It made a loud thump! against one of the millions upon millions of glass walls in the mansion. As I had learned a while ago when I'd “accidentally” punched a large window in my room, they were pretty damn thick.

In hindsight, I'm sort of glad there was nobody nearby. Seeing me on a rage could have made any local passerby scream and run away in terror. To be totally honest, I wasn't exactly sure what I was watching. I had a hunch that it was some sort of baseball game but the quality was so shitty that I couldn't bee one hundred percent sure. Plus, the sound must have blown out about fifty years ago so I couldn't hear a thing. I started to realize how bored I was when I had a temper tantrum over not being able to watch some blurry image on a T.V. older than my grandpa's grandpa.

I scowled sourly and glared at the mocking little black box.

“Fuck you,” I hissed under my breath at it. I turned my head to the right, glowering at my Uncle Dante many rooms away. He was probably curled up in his creepy little office, laughing at me. He had the only place in the mansion that wasn't made out of glass. Like his own little morgue. “Fuck you,” I said loud enough that I wanted him to know I hated what my mother and brother were making me do for him. I flopped back down on the white couch. Nearly everything there lacked color. The cushions sent up a puff of dust that made me cough. “And fuck you, Gerard,” I whispered. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my legs around them.

The sadness crashed down on me like a tidal wave of sorrows. I was truly alone. My eyes burned with tears and my heart ached. A sob escaped my lips.

I guess at that moment the isolation was a blessing.

Nobody could see me cry.

-o-

I ran my hands over the vinyl steering wheel in agitation, the worry being plastered over me like mortar to put together a house. I breathed out, hoping to calm down, and stared at the inky black Wal-Mart parking lot.

“There's no way they can find me,” I tried to reassure my overactive imagination and failing miserably. “They don't know where I am. Nope, nope, nope. No possible way...” My voice bounced hollowly off of the interior of the car, coming back in high-pitched echos, and seeming to make me feel worse. I repeated Mark's words over and over again in my head, as if I could detect some sort of sarcasm in his message.

It doesn't matter if you don't want to go or not, he'd told me calmly after I'd returned to my senses and shouted at him to go fuck himself. We can find you. We'll carry out the order. Then, he'd hung up, leaving me to stare at the phone, horrified. I'd chucked it at the wall in anger, and Ryan finally reached the last straw then proceeded to fire me. I'd grabbed my stuff and stomped away to my car, flooring the gas and speeding away like I was in Fast and Furious.

I was angry for most of the day while I drove as far as I could from that place, but now that it was dark and I was alone, I had only once ever been this scared. I'd cried, put my fist in my mouth and screamed, then even started laughing because I was so fucking terrified. No one could pretend like hearing “we can find you” wasn't something that would put even the most level-headed people into a panic. In addition to that, with all the crazy loons out there, I knew this was serious.

I'd gone to the police and they'd laughed me right out the door, leaving me to fend for myself. With my luck, they called the insane asylum and I now had two search parties that I didn’t want to be founded by out looking for me.

I leaned against the wheel, taking in a shallow and shaky lungful of air. Time to get moving, I decided internally, sitting up straight. I didn't know where the hell I was and, even with the dull, watery glow of the street lamps, I couldn't see more than two feet in front of me.

I twisted the key in the ignition, and the engine sputtered.

My heart leaped into my throat, pumping furiously.

I tried again.

And again.

And again.

My car wouldn't start.

I jumped out of it and ran for all I was worth.

-o-

* * *

“Baby, all I want for Christmas is YOOOOOOOU!” I sang loudly. I bounced around my room like a kid on a sugar rush, strutting with pure sass and shimmying my butt. Gerard would've been proud. I picked up my hairbrush from my dresser and held it as if it were a microphone. Hidden diva coming out, I strode over to the room's full-length mirror and pointed at it like I was serenading a loving fan. Which, of course, was just my own unkempt reflection.

My eyes were laced with dark circles from the lack of sleep. I was in dire need of a haircut. I imagine I didn't smell too great. On top of that, my favorite Anthrax shirt had a huge mustard stain on it. I didn't even know how that happened. I despise mustard.

I did a little twirl in front of the mirror and continued singing. I pinched up my eyebrows and pursed my lips in an attempt to have some good facials. I pretty much looked like I was about to throw up.

“Na na na na na,” I stomped my foot to my inner metronome. I didn't care if Dante heard or not. “I just wanna hang my stocking there up on the fireplace, but Santa Claus ain't gonna make me happy with a toy on Christmas day!” I giggled to myself. That sounded quite dirty. I kept on going, messing up the lyrics something terrible. Once, I even started adding in the word “vagina” whenever I felt it necessary. Jesus Christ, I am sick. This is why you should never leave me along for long periods of time. No pun intended.

Anyway, I was headbanging my greasy locks of hair when I heard a thundering knock coming from the front door. I jumped about three feet in the air and fell off balance. I tumbled down into the mirror. My forehead slammed into it with a great crash! My skull throbbed from the impact and I reached up to rub it. That didn't do any good. I could already feel a bruise forming.

The loud bashing came again. I blinked. There's someone at the door, I thought to myself numbly. I blinked again. Oh, my God! There's someone at the door! In a nanosecond, I leaped up and charged out of my room. I made a mad dash down the stairs, taking five at a time. On normal occasions, that would've killed me. My socks made me slide on the off-white carpet as I raced to let the person in.

It could be Gerard! It could be Gerard! I grinned like a maniac. He's here! He's going to get me out! I was so excited that I made a graceful bound over the couch. I could put any ballerina to shame. Through the glass, I could see the skeletal trees that surrounded the house. Not my brother. I quickly decided his figure was hidden behind the frosted section that made up the door. But I still couldn't see the blurry phantom of him standing there. In fact, there wasn't anything standing there.

Slightly discouraged, I slowed down a bit before reaching my destination. I placed my hand against the cool silver knob and turned. The sound of screeching gulls and the stench of fish and scorching air bombarded me as I opened the door a crack. I flicked my eyes back and forth. Nothing. I pushed it out a bit more.

“Gerard?” I called, my heart fluttering from anticipation. “Gerard?” I tried again after a moment, raising my voice a bit. I swung the door wide, the humidity slamming into me like a wall of fire. “Gerard!” I shouted, looking around wildly for my older brother. He wasn't there. Of course he wasn't. I clenched my fists, anger filling up my body like water flooding a ship.

“Stupid fucking kids!” I screamed to the woods, reaching for the door and slamming it shut. I stormed through the living room. I grabbed the television and hurled it at the wall. It broke into a million tiny pieces with a huge bang! I stomped atop the broken mess, not caring about the plastic-like material that stabbed my stockinged feet.

It didn't hurt as much as being alone.

-o-

It was dark. It was small. I was scared.

The air was foul.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

It was hot.

The box could be on fire.

The wood scratched my bare skin.

I was so scared.

I was never getting out.

The sides of the prison pressed against me.

They got smaller and smaller and smaller.

They wouldn't stop.

No one was getting me out.

I was going to die.

I heard someone faintly.

They called for Gerard. I called for help.

I banged the sides of the box.

I shouted for them.

They didn't come.

They didn't get me out.

I was going to die.

I was never getting out.

I was terrified.

-o-

I curled into a ball, sobs racking my body. Broken china plate littered the floor like an ocean of shattered dreams. My hands bled. They stung something terrible but I didn't care.

Gerard always told me he'd be there. When we were little, he would sneak into my room after Mom and Dad tucked me in. He'd tell me he was only a room away if I got scared or sad or lonely. He'd say this to me every single night.

I don't remember when he stopped.

-o-

I cried and cried and cried.

How long had I been in there?

How long before I suffocated or starved?

They weren't coming.

I wasn't getting out.

I was going to die.

I screamed until my voice went raw.

Hit the wood until my knuckles bled.

Sobbed until my body ran dry.

“Help me,” I whispered to the blackness.

It didn't say anything back.

-o-

I wanted to run. I wanted to run so badly. I stood up. Avoiding the destruction I'd created in my fury, I walked towards the kitchen's back door. I opened it and breathed in the suffocating island air. It burned my windpipe in a good way. I didn't bother closing up. My arms ached from all the plates I'd thrown and my throat was sore from the shouting. My body was exhausted and trembling but I had to run.

I shot off the stoop and begin sprinting.

I thought that maybe if I went fast enough, all the sadness would be left behind.

-o-

I'd always been afraid of the dark.

-o-

My lungs were being stabbed with billions of needles.

My legs were made of lead.

My chest heaved.

I'd never felt better.

Details blurred past me as I ran. Things such as colorful birds perched atop the bony branches of the forest and the musical tinkle of children laughing in the distance and the sun setting with beautiful hues of orange all blurred together like an artist mixing paints.

None of it mattered.

I didn't even notice the large box sitting in front of one of the doors.

Notes

'Kay so I lied about Mikey and Nicole meeting in this chapter. I'M SORRY. It just went a different route then I had originally planned... But I know for a fact they'll meet in the next one!