Written in the Stars of Heaven

During the hours I spent in a painfully bored state, I’d managed to find a black Sharpie that escaped my discovery before. It was jammed in the very back of the drawer the Bible was in, and the destructive spirit inside of me flared at the beautiful idea that formed. Oh, Felix would love this…

Smiling to myself, I pulled the cap off and was surrounded by that gross marker smell. But it was going to be worth it, I thought as I approached the white walls.

Another two hours later, I stepped back and admired my work. Now, I was no artist. Hell, a first grader was like Picasso compared to me. I wasn’t going for the “Mona Lisa” though. No, my stick figures would serve their purpose just fine.

When I heard the sound of the door opening, I tossed the Sharpie in a random direction, and fought to hide a smile that was threatening to break out over my face. Felix was going to be pissed! I loved it.

“Melani, I don’t have time for any of your antics right now. Tell me your vision, or let’s-” He stopped abruptly at the sight in front of him.

On all if the walls, I’d drawn stick figure pictures of me hurting him in some fashion. Fist to the face, foot to the groin, knee to the stomach… And then there was my friendly comments to him. Well, friendly if you didn’t care about losing your friend…

“What have you done?” he shouted, angrily.
“I thought it needed some nice decorating,” I replied, unable to contain my giggles. “It was very plain.”

“You bitch! That’s permanent!”

“It better be. Or else I’m suing for false advertisement,” I joked.

“Shut up!”

At this point, I erupted into a wild fit of laughter. The look on his face was priceless! You know, like those Mastercard commercials. Blah blah- $20. Blah blah blah- $5. The look on your enemy’s face when he sees you’ve vandalized his holding cell- Priceless. Ok, so maybe I modified that one a little. But you get the point. It was hilarious.

“Sorry it’s not so artistic. Too bad I don’t have a clue how to do that really cool graffiti writing, you know? Then I could have done your name and-”

“Enough,” he interrupted, face bright red. “I don’t have the time for this. Are you going to tell me about your vision? Or better yet, show me?”

“Not a chance,” I grinned, loving that I could get under his skin so badly.

“Then let’s commence with the tally. We are leaving for the king right afterward.”

“What happened to barricading the house?” I asked.

“No good. That man can get through any of me defenses,” he explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It probably was. But it was nice to see he’d come to his senses.

“Wonderful. Let’s get on with it,” I said, moving for the door.

“Not so fast, beauty. You need your cut.”

“I honestly don’t mind skipping this one. It’s not a burden at all, I assure you.”

He just rolled his ruby eyes. “You aren’t fooling me. Now get over here, before I have to take you down myself.”

An interesting piece of trivia for you: I don’t take too well to authority. Not from actual authority figures, like teachers and cops, but I especially have issues with the people who think they can tell me what to do. I enjoy showing them that they are sorely mistaken. Which was what I was about to teach Felix.

“Sorry, Napoleon. But I’m not going down without a fight.” And before he could say anything else, I turned and ran for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

“Melani! Get out here right now! We don’t have the time!” he hollered through the wood.

I snickered evilly, loving that I was aggravating him so. Oh, the small joys of life.

But much to my dismay, my small body wasn’t able to hold him off that long. Not when he was using all of his to move me. I had speed, agility, and a strong hit, but that could only do so much.

When he’d pried the door open enough to squeeze through, he wasted no time in slamming into me, and pinning me, face first, into the yellow wallpaper. Such cheer for a pleasant activity, right?

This time, when the cold metal pressed into my sensitive skin, below my Mark, it didn’t hurt as bad. That could be attributed in part to the lack of shock, as I had seen this coming. Before, I was astounded that cruelty to that magnitude existed, but now, I knew what Reapers were like. But anticipating the pain, didn’t do much for the sick feeling in my stomach at the feel of my warm blood trailing down my back. I’d always hated the sensation, even back when I was a child. I never could stand the slow, tickling of the hot, crimson fluid.

“There. Now that’s art,” he said, accent slurring the words together.

“For the demented,” I added in a whisper.

“Now,” Felix continued, as if I hadn’t said anything, “Let me get this…” And he spread his tongue over the blood stain again. Even worse than it’s spreading across my skin. I would have been worried about throwing up, if there was anything in my stomach to get rid of.

“Good. Put this on,” he ordered, stepping away and throwing a white dress at me as I turned around to face him. “What’s with the window, by the way?”

“I got pissed and punched it. Now I’ll humor you with this dress, but I’m changing out there. I’m afraid I’ll step on a piece of glass I missed, so wait here.”

He nodded his acquiescence, moving out of my way and closing the door behind me. I wouldn’t have agreed on normal circumstances, but this would be a great time to get the shard of glass out so I could use it. And he fell for it! Sucker.

Quickly, I stripped out of the blood stained teal silk, into a pretty cotton one. It was white, and the low neckline was lacy, a tie just under the bust that reached around to my back. It fell just above me knees in a stunning billowy skirt. It was such a beautiful sundress, but totally inappropriate for the weather. I didn’t know what the idiot’s problem was. Didn’t he understand that such clothing belonged in the summer months?

Brushing the thought off so I wouldn’t be tempted to speak it, I rushed over to the nightstand to grab the shard of glass. Very carefully, I positioned it in the center of my back, the tight bodice of the sundress holding it snugly against my warm skin. When it was easily accessible, and not in danger of slicing me open, I called out that I was finished. I would have just left him there, but I didn’t want to encourage his walking out whenever he pleased as I changed.

“Wonderful. That light color offsets your dark hair perfectly. Now let’s go,” he said, roughly grabbing my right bicep and pulling me toward the door, not suspecting a thing. “Try to get away, and you will be sorry.” Ok, so maybe he was a little suspicious. But he couldn’t know about the glass.

When the heavy door was opened, it took a lot to restrain myself from fighting out of his hold and dashing off into the cold afternoon. That wouldn’t help me in the long run, I had to say to myself. It would become my mantra until it was safe to execute my escape plan.

“I don’t have any shoes,” I informed him. “So, either you’re carrying me, or you’d better get me some.” I was not going outside in my bare foot-- I’d gotten rid of the high-heels a long time ago.

He let out an annoyed groan, and dragged me into the office I’d seen on my earlier “tour” of his house. “Why are we in here?” I inquired with the likeliness of a five year old.

“You said you needed shoes,” he snapped, pulling me to a closet on the far side of the room.

“You keep shoes in your office? What, you have a shoe fetish or something?”

I took pleasure in the pained look on his face. My attitude was making him so angry! Yes!
Without releasing my arm, he pulled the door open and I saw a full women’s wardrobe, complete with dresses, pants, shirts, jackets, shoes, hats… you name it. If it belonged on a woman’s body, it was there. Felix was a disturbed man, to say the least.

“Grab something,” he muttered, impatient, shoving me down so I was level with the pile of shoes.

His violent jostling made the glass in the back of my dress scratch painfully with the flesh there, not cutting, but doing some damage. But I couldn’t let him know that. I didn’t know if he had his butcher knife, so it could very well be my only defense.

Not paying much attention to what I was doing, too focused on not moving wrong around the glass, I grabbed the first pair of shoes I could reach. Pulling them on, I noted, unattached, that they were bright white tennis shoes, and fit well. The fit was what mattered, but it was kind of cool that they matched my dress-- I stopped myself from getting distracted. I needed to keep my mind on the dire situation at hand. I could not slip up even once, or my escape would be a failure. And I didn’t even want to think about what would happen then.

When my feet were tied in, Felix pulled me up, not very gently I might add, and we started for the front door again. “Uh, coat? It’s gonna be freezing out there!” I protested, fighting against him.

He just jerked my harder, and my weapon cut into me a little. I didn’t think it would bleed much, but it was enough to separate the skin. Apparently, I wouldn’t be getting anything to protect me from the bitter chill, but I decided that I wouldn’t be resistant until the moment of truth. Which would be the moment he opened the door and we took a few steps out. I needed to surprise him, and make a hasty retreat.

As we neared the front, I sneakily projected the scene sprawled out before me in his mind, careful to cover up the differences so he wouldn’t get suspect me of anything as I reached behind and maneuvered the glass from it’s holding place. Genius, right? I thought so.

When I had it firmly within my grasp, cautious not to cut my hand, I kept his vision in place. I realized that it would be a lot easier to fight him if he couldn’t see me. It would be seriously confusing, and I’d have the advantage. Sure, the projection would fade when we broke physical contact, but it would make my job much simpler.

Felix reached out for the copper knob, and turned it. The act seemed to be in slow motion, and I glued my eyes onto it. I swear, despite the cold I could already feel through the barrier, sweat trickled down my brow.
My heart rate increased, the organ slamming angrily into my rib cage. This was it. If I failed, it was over. I was screwed. I had one chance to get away. I had to do this right.

We moved as one through the doorway, the frosty air assaulted me, burning my eyes and making my exposed skin tingle. It kind of made me regret giving up on that jacket so easily. Because, damn it was cold! But that was moot at this point. I had to prepare myself for the battle to come.

Taking a calming breath, I let the soothing rhythm of our feet crunching on the frosted soil give me courage. Before we reached the huge H3, I drew my arm back, paused, and slammed the sharp end of the glass into the side of Felix’s neck, just above his clavicle. Hot blood was everywhere as he bellowed in agony, flowing heavily from the hole I’d caused, speeding up even more when I pulled the shard out. And the large, deep gash on the meaty part of my left palm, just below my thumb, and the bottoms of my fingers spewed my own life force. I’d been gripping very tight as I stabbed him, the cut growing every time I moved.

As Felix dropped to his knees, clutching at his brutal wound I slammed my foot into his groin, and took off into the woods. Please, guardian angel, be with me! My prayer and determination was now all I had to stay alive on. Hunger was attacking my stomach, my neck was sore from the tallies there, I was terrible afraid of what may be lurking in the thick trees, and I was freezing. With so many odds stacked against me, I would need a lot more than luck to survive.