A Twist in His Story

Caleb
I tried to distract myself from my burning wrists above my head, the tight ropes digging into my pale skin. I let out a breath of air, trying to calm myself down as I glanced around the inside of the small, beat up caravan. Closing my eyes, I could feel the warm tear slide down my cheek and down my neck before disappearing beneath my dirty, red shirt that I had gotten six years ago from Xander, my dead best friend’s brother, my ex-boyfriend, my love.
Xander was the sweetest, most caring guy I knew, he would risk his life for anyone he cared about. Xander was someone that was strong, brave, unlike me. I’m, I’m more of a wimp. I can’t stand the thought of fighting back, of hurting someone. I can’t even raise a knife to my heart just to end the misery I have with my father, Anthony. Anthony, a man no one wants to know, a man no one wants to be around, a man I wish dead.
And then, and then there’s Rosie, my best friend, well, dead best friend. She died by my father’s hand. He had risen his hand above Rosie’s throat and dug the knife as fast, as hard as he could from the base of her pale throat up until it made contact with the bottom part of her brain, killing her almost instantly. Rose, a beautiful, sweet girl that I loved as a sister, she was my best friend and every day I wish that she was still alive, that she was still her beaming little self, that she was next to me to help me every day, but I knew, I knew that wouldn't happen.
I also knew my death was growing close, I hadn’t eaten in two weeks, and I only ever got water when Anthony wasn’t looking when I was in the small caravan kitchen. I’d drink the water whether it was clean or not, it’s better than nothing. I could feel Father growing irritated by me, I could feel he wanted to dispose of me and quickly and I knew he was hoping for me to die of either starvation or dehydration and if I didn’t, I knew I’d die from his hand just like beautiful, beautiful Rosie.
Shaking my head, I turned my attention towards the cabinet that sat beside the single, fold-able bed. The cabinet was permanently locked, and inside, I knew was valuables and photographs of Ma, a beautiful women that got into a car accident when I was seven. Her death was the cause of my father’s actions, was the cause of his abuse, his harm, his murderous ways, and every day I wished her to be alive as well just to help me from the torture, from the pain that Anthony wishes to cause every day. As if I haven’t had enough pain in my life time.
I swallowed and shook my head roughly just as the rusted, old caravan door swung open, revealing my father, who narrowed his eyes onto my body. He grunted when he noticed that I was still alive and retrieved his pocket knife from the back pocket of his torn jean before staggering over to me, a grin on his pudgy face. I flinched back automatically, but was surprised when he swiped the knife at the rope, letting me tumble to the ground, the ground pressing against some new and old bruises, even forming some of its own. A groan left my lips when I made contact with the ground, making an amused chuckle leave my father’s lips.
At first, I thought it was a mistake, I thought he had missed one of my hands and accidently got the rope, so I was very surprised when he hoisted me up to my feet and let me towards the door, the knife against my throat.
Although he did cut the rope, my wrists were still bound together, they just weren’t connected with the ceiling anymore.
“Now girly, I have a task for you. But if you try to run, I will find you again. I did it last time, I can do it again but this time, I will kill you,” my pudgy father threatened before throwing me out the door and onto the rocky forest floor. “Let’s go,” he growled before grabbing one of my legs and dragging my along the bumping ground. The rocks and branch’s digging into my cut and bruise back.
I winced every time I felt the contact between my skin and an inanimate object, finally sighing in relief when he dropped my leg and instructed me to get to my feet.
I quickly followed his orders and scurried to my feet before following him out of the last several meters of the forest and began to walk down the dark, abandoned dirt road beside my father. Curiosity and fear was running throughout me, I had no clue what we were doing, but I was most definitely terrified. Getting lead out of the caravan was never a good thing, not with this man anyway.
“Come on girly, hurry up,” father growled, dropping his pace to next to me so he could shove me forwards, making me stumble before regaining my balance.
The dirt path eventually lead off to a cement driveway, which lead into a small, gloomy-looking town. It wasn’t long until Anthony moved down a thin alleyway, stopping at one of the doors before knocking several times until a rectangle hole in the door was uncovered to reveal a set of eyes. The wood was moved back into place before the door swung open, the smell of marijuana instantly hitting my nose.
At the door stood a tough looking guy dressed in baggy jeans and a black shirt, his arms folded over his chest as three more guys emerged from behind the bald man. Letting out a nervous huff of air, I heard one of the men offer for Anthony and I to enter.
The room was small, only containing a tiny kitchen, a lounge and two doors, one I was assuming the bathroom and the other, well, I had no clue. I grunted in pain as my father pushed me down onto the floor before he sat onto the couch, watching as I instantly drew my legs up to my chest and rested my scared arms onto my thighs.
“Where’s our money Anthony? And why on earth did you bring this boy here?” I heard a man ask, making me glance up from the dirty rug to look at the dark haired man that entered the room.
I knew my eyes showed fear, and I could tell they knew my fear was increasing, especially because I could see where their weapons were. After having Anthony as a father you could tell when someone was holding a weapon, how many there was and where they were.
The bald man at the door only had a hunting knife and a gun, the gun was sitting on his hip, tucking in the waist of his jeans while the knife was strapped to his calf. The three guys next to him, each carried a gun and two knives, one hunting knife and one Swiss army knife. The gun was located in the same place as the bald man’s gun, while the Swiss army knife was in their back pockets and the Hunting knife was strapped to their ankle, hidden beneath their baggy jean pants.
Whereas the dark haired guy, the guy who scared me most had three guns—two of which were visible and three knives, all of different sizes, one of which was visible. The two visible guns was a sniper and a rifle, both strapped to his back, along with a pistol tucked in his black leather jacket pocket. At his hip sat one knife, while his ankle contained another. Several inches away from him sat a machete, leaning against a wall, easily in arms reach.
I noticed the dark haired boy look closer at me, his eyes widening .
“Have you been harming this boy?”
“I came to tell you Lukas, that I won’t have the money any time soon, I simply, don’t have a job and I came to offer this boy as a servant,” my father responded, ignoring Lukas’s question.
“Anthony! Have you or have you not been harming this boy?” Lukas growled, pointing a finger directly at me.
“I have not.”
“I beg to differ,” I murmured slowly, looking away from Lukas to look over at my father, watching as his eyes widened in fear.
“Why you fucking brat!” Anthony growled, diving towards me as I tried the best I could to scurry away with bound hands.
“Charles, Jai, Jay, Lucifer, help the boy, but do not kill Anthony, just tie him up,” the dark haired man spoke, stroking his small beard before he murmured something to himself and left the room.
“Ha! You can’t tie me up,” Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. “You have no weapons, whereas, I have a hunting knife.”
“Yes they do.”
“Huh?” My father asked looking over at me confused.
“They have weapons, they all have guns at their hips, one of them has a knife strapped to his calf and the other three have hunting knives against their ankles and a Swiss Army Knife in their pockets.”
“You’re lying, you don’t know anything about weapons!” My father screamed, pulling the knife out of his pocket and pegged it straight at my heart, luckily, I managed to jump out of the way, but unluckily, I wasn’t fast enough and it dug straight into my arm, digging into the bone.
I let out a blood curdling scream, as I grabbed my arm where the knife was jabbed into, trying to stop the blood from flowing out, but I could already feel myself getting light headed.
“Woah, kid, stay with us,” I heard a voice say as a presence was felt next to me.
I could feel someone’s hand move mine as they tightly wrapped material around my wound, apologizing every time I winced. My vision was blurred and I found it took a lot of effort just to try and see so in result, I leaned against someone as blurred movements happened, including screaming and speaking until I was definite that they had caught Anthony and shoved something into his mouth to shut him up.
“What the fuck happened here! I told you to help the kid, not get him stabbed,” Lukas exclaimed, annoyed.
“We’re sorry Lukas, but it wasn’t our fault, it was Anthony,” the voice from the guy supporting me said gruffly.
“Ugh, keep an eye on him, I’ll take the kid to the hospital, he’s looking rather pale.”
“Yes sir!” the voice said again from behind me.
“Jai, what did I say about calling me sir? Now just for that, carry the kid to my car, I’ll grab my keys.”