Andromeda's Poison

She dreamt of it again. The blood. Their hands. Their cries.

It wasn't one of those traumatic events that she had blocked out of her mind. No. She remembered every single detail. It was her beginning. It was The beginning to her knew life she has longed to create. It was the worst kind of situation, the one most children wouldn't be able to get away from. But she did. She got away.

She didn't know where it went wrong though.

She knew the police wouldn't have been able to figure out. She would've been a suspect, she knew that much. But she was too young still, to cause those types of injuries. She had wiped the place squeaky clean before he left, she had placed everything where it was using plastic gloves she later burned along with her clothes. She made it look like someone had broken in, like someone had seen her and took her away to never be found. She dyed her hair blonde with her mother's brand new dye and sliced it short, she wore her clothes, and she slipped on some of sneakers she hadn't worn in years and that fit her quite small. She took all the money they had with them, (which was a lot), and ran off, carefully slipping a glove on to grab the knob and walked out the back door.

From Oregon to Vancouver it took one day and eleven hours by bus. If she hadn't been so small and so quick to hide underneath bus seat when the Canadian border patrol came to check on passports, she would've been easily screwed. But the old man who sat next to her understood the words that were unsaid and was quick to help her hide by flattening up his things on top of her. She thanked him over and over, buying him a pretzel on the stop after.

The man didn't stop there. He gave her an address where she could go to, a place where they helped girls like her find some food and shelter. She bought him a soda on the stop after that one. As soon as she got off the bus she headed over to where it was, asking for directions to strangers, turning corners she was extremely unfamiliar with.

As soon as she stepped inside the shady building she knew there was something off, but she shrugged it off with excuses. That old man had been to sweet, to generous, too willing to help her out. Even the secretary in the front of the large building smiled almost too kindly as she stood up and walked her down a long corridor and into a room. She shrugged off that feeling once again, trying to stare directly at the path ahead of hers.

That feeling shook her insides yet as the tall lady slipped her hand around the doorknob and twisted it open, a hand slowly pushing it aside as she slightly shoved the girl to enter, closing the door behind them and flicking the light switch on.

That's when she saw them. In that small, beige room full of different toys, ropes, and strange objects she saw them lying around the floor.

Small faces, small arms, small legs contorted into painful positions, gagged, tied, and exposed to the world. If they hadn't been moaning and wailing with tears streaming down their red cheeks, she would've thought of them as dead, for their eyes were as vacant as a ghost. They were all different ages, varying from disgustingly young to early teenage years, they were all different genders, from girls to boys, but they were all the same. They were all scared.

That was the feeling.

That was the feeling that had been pumping through her veins all along.

It was fear.

She snapped her head around, shoving the woman away from the door, her hand extending towards the doorknob she was quickly ripped away from my a tall, brutish man with a sickening look on his face. The man tugged her back, bringing her down and the floor and started to tear at her jeans, tugging the down and licking her side. Tears fluttered onto her eyelashes as she clawed at the floor trying to pull away. Another man walked over towards them, tearing open her shirt, grabbing ahold of her small chest she barely knew she had.

It wasn't until the man pinned her down with one hand and unzipped his pants with the other that she snapped.

She waited until she took out his thing and neared it her face that here eyes flickered, tearing it off, as the man hollered out in pain. Blood spattered her face as she turned towards the other man who immediately stepped back in fear, hands held upwards, begging for forgiveness. Too late for that. She extended her hand, gently squeezing it faster and faster a he fell into the floor, his arms gripping his chest. Boom.

Blood ran down his eyes, nose, and mouth as he lied motionless, Mishka's eyes quickly fixating on the woman who was lying on the floor, frozen with fear. The girl smiled at her, pulling her hands upwards and gripping the air as if it was the lady's neck. The girl watched as she slowly turned blue, her eyes rolling back, her head tipping to the side as her lungs died.

Finally she turned to the man with the missing penis, watching him crawl around the floor in pain, his hand reaching back to where he hid a small gun. He pointed it at the girl, quickly firing two shots which she stopped with it with her palm, flicking them back at him as they penetrated his skull.

Done.

She felt at ease, a small grain of happiness pulsating through her veins alongside the adrenaline which rushed through her blood. It was an extraordinary feeling that was quickly killed off by the insatiable need to vomit. She turned around, spewing the contents of her crappy breakfast onto the tinted floor, and wiped herself off the end of her t-shirt, her hand pressed over her tummy as she heard a small whimper resonate her ears.

At least twenty pairs of eyes were watching her from where they were, bodies shaken with fear. She walked up to the girl on her right, as she gave out a high pitch squeal that even Mishka couldn't surpass. She kept murmuring to her she was sorry and that she would fix things and that she would make it all better but the girl started to cry, even after Mishka undid her knots and removed the gag, her body curling into a little ball.

She left the little girl where she was and undid the rest of the children's ties, the rest of them acting the same way, their eyes casted downward, their bodies holding onto one another. It took her a while to realize she was sobbing silently too, tears streaming down her bloody cheeks, her voice whimpering small, 'I'm sorry's' over and over. Once she was done she stood up, walking over towards the door, shoving the dead woman to side, and placed a hand on the doorknob she had fought so hard for.

That's when she heard a small 'thank you' erupt from the crowd of sobbing, traumatized children. One little boy's voice kept repeating the words over and over as he held onto an older boy's arm, his eyes closed as he sobbed thousands of tears in her name.