Negative
Kidnapped
The vehicle came to a sudden halt sending me tumbling forward. My head hit what I was guessing was the hard metallic floor of the vehicle, but with a bag over my head I couldn’t be entirely sure. I heard a door slam, and assumed that whoever was driving had gotten out. The freezing winter air suddenly whooshed through me like a ghost fading through walls, and the urge to push down my rising shirt became very prominent, but lucky me my hands were bound. Gloved hands gripped my arms and yanked me upwards. I was taken out of the vehicle very rudely if I must say so, and the bag was ripped from my head.
I squinted, not use to seeing anything besides total darkness for hours. When my eyes adjusted, I took in my surroundings. A gigantic Victorian-style structure stood before me with white chipped paint and a vine overgrowth covering a vast majority of it. It was both terrifying and beautiful at the same time, and I felt as though it was somehow alive; a strongest face and boring eyes watching me from its darkened panes.
I heard a scuffle beside me, and turned to see my assumed kidnapper. Her long ebony hair fell down her back, and around her porcelain face like a billowing cloud of (well said!)black smoke. Bright green eyes entranced me, and for a split second I didn’t feel kidnapped; I felt calm, serene, and as if time didn’t matter anymore. This was one of the most bizarre feelings I had ever felt. How could I feel this way after I had been kidnapped? Maybe the doctors were right; I was a total nutcase. My medication…without it I was in trouble. I would go coo coo for Cocoa Puffs on these people if I didn’t get my medication soon.
I heard my kidnapper say something to me, but I was too entrapped in my thoughts to comprehend what she had said. I stared at her blankly because I was sure if admitting I hadn’t been listening was a good idea or not.
“You are Krysta Williamson.” She said firmly. How does she know my name? Okay, this is beginning to get weird.
“Yes” I said, unsure of where this was heading.
“Welcome,” she told me, as if I was staying at some sort of luxury hotel or something.
“Welcome” I repeated in a harsh sarcastic tone. “Welcome to what?” I asked. I started to feel a burning sensation throughout my body.
“Why the hell did you take me? Who are you anyway? What is this place? Oh, God what state am I even in?” I had officially lost; lost control of myself.
I could feel my iris’ start to burn, and I knew it was getting worse. This mental illness or whatever was wrong with me was taking control; taking over.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she said something along the lines of “she’s progressing fast”, but I had no idea what that meant. What about me was progressing fast? How did she know? All these questions ringing in my head only made me angrier. My irises were on fire now, and my color vision switched like a light switch. It was like when you change the effect on your camera to negative. Everything I saw was in negative view now. My kidnappers hair was now stark white, and she had demon red eyes.
What is wrong with me?
“It’s going to be alright Krysta. You’re just frustrated.” She said, calmly. Her words though did not help, if anything it only made it worse.
Raging energy surged through me, and I felt my bound hands shaking against my lower back. Heat seeped out from them, and I made the mistake of looking back at my hands. My hands were engulfed with flames. Through my current vision it was a blazing blue, but I could only imagine it being an inferno of orange for my kidnapper. The rope that was binding my hands was disintegrating before my very eyes, and pretty soon I was free.
My kidnapper looked very alarmed now, as her eyes were the size of saucers. She snatched a walkie-talkie from her breast pocket and began chanting into it. “We have a code 7. I repeat we have a code 7.”
My hands were still on fire, and I began to wonder why they weren’t burnt to a crisp yet. How did my hands even set on fire? I thought to myself. I had no more time to ponder this thought because loud marching was coming up behind me. My instincts kicked in telling me not to look back, but to run. So I ran; I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Do not let the girl get away!” I heard a deep voice thunder behind me.
I kept running; my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t believe this is happening. What the hell do these people want? I thought to myself.
Suddenly I felt something hit me in the side of the neck. I touched the place with my hand and found there was a dart-like object sticking into my neck.
“Crap” I said, as my vision started to fade, and I felt myself falling into a black abyss.
Out of the darkness came the densely wooded forest behind my oldest best friend Dylan’s house. There was my past self on the other side of the creek that split the forest in half. Dylan was sitting to my left; a quarter empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey that he had most likely swiped from his drunkard of a father was clutched in his left hand.
I was fiddling with the blanket that that we were sitting on nervously. I could remember clear as day how uncomfortable I had been with the situation. It was truly awful. I would’ve done anything to get away in that moment.
“I know I’m not the most attractive guy, and maybe I have shit for brains, but I one thing and that’s that I love more than anyone or anything that will ever exist on this earth.” He said told my past self. I remembered the way his eyes splashed with hope. He wanted me to be with him, but there was no way I could.
I was a psychopath. I was a broken music box that would never play the same tune again.
“I can’t you know I can’t,” I had told him whilst fidgeting with the blanket still. I was trying so hard not to cry in that moment. I loved him; I really did, but I couldn’t do this to him.
His eyebrows furrowed, and he scooted closer to me on the blanket.
“Why is that?” He asked, staring straight into my eyes; into my soul.
I huffed in annoyance “You know,” I said
He cocked his head to the side. “Do I?”
“Yes” I said, firmly.
“Then please enlighten me because I obviously forgot,” He said, getting even closer to me. We were touching now. I could still feel his minty breath on my face, like it was yesterday.
I squinted, not use to seeing anything besides total darkness for hours. When my eyes adjusted, I took in my surroundings. A gigantic Victorian-style structure stood before me with white chipped paint and a vine overgrowth covering a vast majority of it. It was both terrifying and beautiful at the same time, and I felt as though it was somehow alive; a strongest face and boring eyes watching me from its darkened panes.
I heard a scuffle beside me, and turned to see my assumed kidnapper. Her long ebony hair fell down her back, and around her porcelain face like a billowing cloud of (well said!)black smoke. Bright green eyes entranced me, and for a split second I didn’t feel kidnapped; I felt calm, serene, and as if time didn’t matter anymore. This was one of the most bizarre feelings I had ever felt. How could I feel this way after I had been kidnapped? Maybe the doctors were right; I was a total nutcase. My medication…without it I was in trouble. I would go coo coo for Cocoa Puffs on these people if I didn’t get my medication soon.
I heard my kidnapper say something to me, but I was too entrapped in my thoughts to comprehend what she had said. I stared at her blankly because I was sure if admitting I hadn’t been listening was a good idea or not.
“You are Krysta Williamson.” She said firmly. How does she know my name? Okay, this is beginning to get weird.
“Yes” I said, unsure of where this was heading.
“Welcome,” she told me, as if I was staying at some sort of luxury hotel or something.
“Welcome” I repeated in a harsh sarcastic tone. “Welcome to what?” I asked. I started to feel a burning sensation throughout my body.
“Why the hell did you take me? Who are you anyway? What is this place? Oh, God what state am I even in?” I had officially lost; lost control of myself.
I could feel my iris’ start to burn, and I knew it was getting worse. This mental illness or whatever was wrong with me was taking control; taking over.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she said something along the lines of “she’s progressing fast”, but I had no idea what that meant. What about me was progressing fast? How did she know? All these questions ringing in my head only made me angrier. My irises were on fire now, and my color vision switched like a light switch. It was like when you change the effect on your camera to negative. Everything I saw was in negative view now. My kidnappers hair was now stark white, and she had demon red eyes.
What is wrong with me?
“It’s going to be alright Krysta. You’re just frustrated.” She said, calmly. Her words though did not help, if anything it only made it worse.
Raging energy surged through me, and I felt my bound hands shaking against my lower back. Heat seeped out from them, and I made the mistake of looking back at my hands. My hands were engulfed with flames. Through my current vision it was a blazing blue, but I could only imagine it being an inferno of orange for my kidnapper. The rope that was binding my hands was disintegrating before my very eyes, and pretty soon I was free.
My kidnapper looked very alarmed now, as her eyes were the size of saucers. She snatched a walkie-talkie from her breast pocket and began chanting into it. “We have a code 7. I repeat we have a code 7.”
My hands were still on fire, and I began to wonder why they weren’t burnt to a crisp yet. How did my hands even set on fire? I thought to myself. I had no more time to ponder this thought because loud marching was coming up behind me. My instincts kicked in telling me not to look back, but to run. So I ran; I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Do not let the girl get away!” I heard a deep voice thunder behind me.
I kept running; my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t believe this is happening. What the hell do these people want? I thought to myself.
Suddenly I felt something hit me in the side of the neck. I touched the place with my hand and found there was a dart-like object sticking into my neck.
“Crap” I said, as my vision started to fade, and I felt myself falling into a black abyss.
Out of the darkness came the densely wooded forest behind my oldest best friend Dylan’s house. There was my past self on the other side of the creek that split the forest in half. Dylan was sitting to my left; a quarter empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey that he had most likely swiped from his drunkard of a father was clutched in his left hand.
I was fiddling with the blanket that that we were sitting on nervously. I could remember clear as day how uncomfortable I had been with the situation. It was truly awful. I would’ve done anything to get away in that moment.
“I know I’m not the most attractive guy, and maybe I have shit for brains, but I one thing and that’s that I love more than anyone or anything that will ever exist on this earth.” He said told my past self. I remembered the way his eyes splashed with hope. He wanted me to be with him, but there was no way I could.
I was a psychopath. I was a broken music box that would never play the same tune again.
“I can’t you know I can’t,” I had told him whilst fidgeting with the blanket still. I was trying so hard not to cry in that moment. I loved him; I really did, but I couldn’t do this to him.
His eyebrows furrowed, and he scooted closer to me on the blanket.
“Why is that?” He asked, staring straight into my eyes; into my soul.
I huffed in annoyance “You know,” I said
He cocked his head to the side. “Do I?”
“Yes” I said, firmly.
“Then please enlighten me because I obviously forgot,” He said, getting even closer to me. We were touching now. I could still feel his minty breath on my face, like it was yesterday.