To The Hand of Clawed Fingers

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The light was shining straight in my eyes when I tried to open them, just to close ]them again. All I knew was that I felt numb all over and I wasn't sure how long I had been laying down on my bed. From the ache in my muscles it must have been at least a full day. I moaned and rolled over only to feel a burning hand on my forehead. I hissed slightly and pulled back, making my head feel like it was about to swivel off, along suddenly with my stomach. I moaned again and leaned over the bed trying to heave the nausea away. Nothing came out. I mentally sighed, it must be because I HAVE been in bed for longer than a day, I probably haven't eaten anything. Why am I laying down anyways? Where am I? Slowly the questions started to bouble and along with the questions my memory slowly started to form back into shape. Remembering my conversation with my family and why I was suddenly laying down I gasped and sat straight up, eyes wide, uncaring to the pain I had just caused myself.

Looking around I saw exactly what I was afraid of. A boy of about eighteen sitting in a chair staring at me as if he was concentrating immensely. I stared at him shocked before looking down at myself. I was paler then ever, I could see my hair knotted so bad I was afraid id have to seriously cut it all off now, along with just my band t-shirt on that came only to right about mid-thigh. With a squeal I pulled the lowered covers over myself looking at the boy as I felt the heat creeping up my neck to my cheeks. It seemed to have got his attention because at the sound of my squeak he came back to earth and smirked, amused by my reaction to his presence.
“Ah so your awake now, thats wonderful, I was afraid we were going to be behind schedule, and that wouldn't be good.” I gave him a death glare not really understanding anything but truthfully not caring.
This boy thinks he can saunter into my room and start blaming me he had another thing coming.

“And what the hell is your problem bud! Thinking you can just hang out in my room while I'm obviously out! Your probably the reason I'm not wearing any pants aren't you? Pervert! Get the fuck out of my room and the fuck out of my house. NOW, before I get out of this bed and beat that smirk off your goddamn mouth!” I said grabbing my rainbow knife out from under my pillow and hiding it behind my back. “I'm not going to tell you again.”
He looked at me stunned for a second before shaking his head with a cruel frown of disbelief.

“Did you just talk to me in that manner you little wench?! You are so below me that I could have your brains for supper if that were allowed!” He started to walk towards me with a pissed off look on his face. But my anger out-did his and I felt nothing but more hatred. He thinks he could get mad at me for saying what I wanted in my own house, my own room for goodness sake, then he deserves what he's about to get!

“You little worthless wench cant do anything to match my strength or speed. So I hope you like pain.” with that statement he was beside my bed with his hand raised, seeming as if he was going to hit me. But I neither flinched nor moved at the obvious threat. Instead I pulled out my knife and switched it open at the same time I stabbed him right in between the ribs into his lungs. At the same moment his hand came down at such a speed it seemed surreal but not fast enough before I caught it and twisted it around to his back, pinning him to me, knife still hanging from his chest.

He let out a roar like sound, that after all this actually sent scared shivers down my back as he spoke words I didn't quiet understand. But in seconds everyone in my house was standing at the door in utter shock.
“Don't just stand there you idiots! Get this god damn bitch off of me!” He said struggling against my hold that was unbreakable. I should know, I've won so many fights and stopped many more with this holding technique. Quickly my parents ran over to pull(well more like coax) me off of him while who I guessed was his family were pulling out my prized possession from his chest and helping him to the bathroom. Watching as he left I scowled as I saw all the blood he was dripping onto my floor. That would probably NEVER come out. At least they could have pulled out the knife AFTER leaving my room, and thinking of that, they still had my knife! I had half a mind to go after them and make them return it at once but the glimpse of my parents huddling right out of my peripheral visual made me turn on them instead.

“What the HELL was that boy doing in my room and who is he and what the hell made him think he had to the right to treat me in such a matter in my own goddamn room! And if you guys don't start talking OUTSIDE of your minds right now and answer my questions I am going to run my katana straight through you without a second thought!” When I get angry I don't care what I say and who I say it to, which in more than one case has gotten me into a load of trouble. This time it was my father's turn to become an unhealthy tomato color and start moving towards me. My mother on the other hand was use to my sudden angry outburst (as she was also prone to them) and put a hand on my fathers arm, once again seeming to talk to him through their eyes. Man, that was really starting to bug the hell out of me.

“Darling, Vanessa, that was the boy you met while we were in Ireland, do you remember him now? This is the boy you are going to be getting married to.” She said this with a slight pause, waiting for my explosive response I'm sure. But it didn't come. I couldn't feel anything but shock and confusion. Did she really mean it? What about my schooling and my friends, did they really expect me to just move away?

I looked over to the corner they were standing in front of to see all of my blue and black stripped luggage bags behind them, filled to the brim. I was stunned.

I guess they did.