Renegade

I lie still, scared if I move a single muscle something within me might break or fall apart. Breathing hurts like all my ribs are broken and lodged in my lungs. My eyes flutter open and help me become aware of my situation.

I'm home.

I'm tucked gently in my own bed as the mid afternoon sun filters in from my open window and a gust of summer air blows in cooling off my heated face. But being home isn't the confusing part of my surroundings. I'm not alone in my room. I'm joined by someone who shouldn't be here. Someone I haven't seen in years. Someone dead.

"Hey Nikki!" She yelps startling my eardrums. She puts down her magazine and jumps onto the corner of my bed. "You had me worried." I remain still, afraid to move. "I have a bone to pick with you." She lightly shoves me. "Why didn't you go to my funeral? I don't care what happened, you still go to your best friend's funeral." She shrugs. "I guess we can't do anything about it now, but I want you to stop blaming yourself for that night. I'm perfectly fine where I am and as for you," she pulls the covers off of me, "you have to get going. You're not going to like what you see or feel when you leave here, but I still got your back, Nikki. You're not alone in this. I love you, girl." She grabs my wrists and pulls me up from my still lying position.

I jerk forward to a sitting position inhaling a huge breath of air. My side pulls reminding me what pain I left behind. My eyesight disappears behind a blackness with little twinkling stars before clearing away to reveal a tiny enclosed room. I take a look around which appears to be the equivalent of a jail cell type of room. All the walls are painted a dark gray with a single mattress and a toilet. I throw myself from the bed as I feel my stomach turn rapidly. I squeeze my stomach forcing the sick up which irritates the back of my throat. My head pounds making me feel more ill.

I empty the remaining contents from my stomach out before I roll over onto my side feeling drained and defeated. I wipe the excess sick off of my mouth along with some tears. Even though nothing remains inside my stomach, I still feel like I might be sick at any moment. The dizziness in my head might have something to do with it. I press my face against the cold, dirty floor trying to cool myself down.

The room is somehow extremely hot even though there is no sun streaming in from anywhere. I take notice of an air vent sized barred window which leads to the room next to mine on the floor alongside my bed. I slightly lift my head and drag my body over to it, pulling my side with every inch. I pause halfway and slide my bloodstained shirt up to see how bad the damage really is. I have new bandaging fastened over my stitches so someone must have looked at it.

I hear a noise erupt from the room adjacent to mine reminding me I was on a mission. I crawl the rest of the way resting my aching head against the thick metal bars. I slip my hand through reaching for someone who may or may not be in that room.

"Hello?" I call into the room. My voice is hoarse and dry from expelling the unidentifiable substances which were sitting in my stomach. "Anybody?" I feel as though my voice goes unheard. I hear some movement within the room and even see a human silhouette.

The door to my room opens suddenly startling me and the unknown person in the other room. The shadow moves quickly out of my sight as I yank my hand back into my own room. Two guys I've never seen before march in and lift me off the floor. They say nothing when I ask them where I am and who they are. I have no energy within me to fight them and they don't seem to mind that they are practically carrying me.

They lead me down a long narrow hall splashed in the same gray as the room I woke up in. Along the hall are many other doors like mine except for the one at the end of the hall. That one has no barred window at the center of it. Instead, it has a keypad and giant latch across it. Wherever the hell I am, it can't be good.

One of the guys lets go of me and I collapse to the floor. The other doesn't even try to save me from falling. He lets me lie there until he gets the door open. They pick me back up and move me to the other side of the door. My heart starts pounding when I notice all the red splattered around the room. Some of it looks fresh and some of it looks dried and old. I feel squeamish and willing to go back to the room I was in before, or better yet the room where Pixel was. They set me down on one of the cleaner chairs, but I struggle to hold my body up when they release me. Everything hurts and I can't see straight, sitting properly is the last thing on my mind.

The door opens and the sound of high heeled shoes echoes throughout the room. I don't bother to turn to face the door; I don't think I could even if I tried. The sound gets closer to me before my eyes settle on a woman with dirty blonde hair and red framed glasses. She adjusts them before looking down at me. She squints her eyes studying me from head to toe looking disappointed. She sighs placing a filing folder on the desk behind her.

She slides on a pair of latex gloves and leans down tugging the skin under my eye down to flash a light into it. I wince away, but she quickly grabs my chin moving my face back to where it previously was. She shines the light in the other eye before clicking it off. She walks to the right side of me and inspects my scalp which surprisingly hurts more than I thought it would. She takes a step back and uses both hands to point to the two guys and then points to me. They grab onto my arms again and lift me up from my seat. She lifts my shirt and rips off the bandaging to look at the stitching. She runs her finger slowly along each of the stitches. I grit my teeth as she does so. It isn't until the about the seventh stitch that I release a grunt of pain and wince away from her touch. She stops and looks up at me annoyed. The two drop me back into my chair as she backs away from me. She sits on the desk behind her and stares at me.

"Fetch the blonde intern for me, please." She crosses her legs resting her elbow on her knee. She gently places her head in her hand and lifts every finger to individually tap each one to her cheek as she waits. We sit in an uncomfortable silence until the door to the room opens again. I hear quick, tiny feet shuffle towards us. "Excellent. Perhaps you can shed some light as to why I'm looking at a severely injured ginger?" She folds her arms across her chest.

"I was just --" I know that voice. I distinctly heard it before I lost consciousness.

"You were just what? This is the second time you've brought me someone I didn't ask for. What the hell am I supposed to do with this one?" She points to me.

"She's a valuable asset to have in your possession."

"Valuable asset?" The blonde woman laughs in Lia's face. "She's broken and damaged. How am I supposed to play with something that's broken?"

"She can get you what you want." Lia steps forward. "She can get you Logan Fierce." I whip my head over to face her shooting daggers with my eyes. The blonde woman across from me remains quiet for a minute before she hops off her desk.

"And how can this," she grabs some of my hair and twirls it around her finger, "ratty thing get me Logan Fierce?"

"That ratty thing," I feel rage pumping through my body as Lia continues, "happens to be his weakness."

"You brought me a weakness?" She sounds impressed and shocked. "I don't recall Fierce having any weaknesses. That's what made him so special." She turns to me. "Well, I guess you and I will get to play after all." She kisses my cheek and I turn my head away from her repulsed. She looks at Lia. "Go grab the box of stuff you found on the scene." Lia nods not bothering to look in my direction. "Poor thing," the blonde woman smiles at me, "you're probably terribly confused." She sits back on her desk kicking her feet with delight. "But I'm sure Logan has talked about me before." I slowly look up at her finally realizing why she looked familiar to me. "To the world, I'm known as Dranca, but around here they call me Casandra." She looks pleased at my reaction. "You HAVE heard of me before. This will make our time together even more special."

The door opens once again and I hear Lia's tiny footsteps drag along the floor all the way up to Casandra. She delivers a tiny cardboard box to her and backs away slowly. She finally looks in my direction to receive my dirty, hateful gaze. She has an oppressively solemn look upon her face and quickly averts her eyes away from me. Casandra shuffles through the contents of the box before finding something she was looking for; my phone.

She turns it on and appears to be satisfied. She glances over at Lia with a smile and excuses her from the room. Lia seems surprised by the order, but obeys without question. Casandra gestures to the two guys once again and they grab onto me, but not tightly.

"You're quite popular. You've been out for a few days and accumulated about 20 missed calls and a few voicemails. Shall we have a listen?" She taps something on the screen.

"Phoenix? Call me back. I need to know you're okay." It cuts off and is followed by a beep. "Where are you? Call me." Beep. "Dammit!" Beep. Phoe, please just call someone so we know you're okay. We're worried about you." He sounds defeated and upset. My phones beeps for the last time.

"Wow!" She smirks. "He sounds worried. How about we give him a call so he knows you're okay." I attempt to sit up in my chair as she dials his number.

"Hello? Phoe?" I lean forward ready to grab the phone from her hand. She holds up her finger at me and brings it to her lips telling me to be quiet. "Babe, if you're there, you have to tell me where you are and if you're okay." He's exhausted, I can hear it. "Phoenix?" The desperation in his voice finally gets Casandra to cave.

"She's a little busy at the moment, but I can take a message for you," she jumps off her desk, "cutie." He's silent. "You don't have anything you want to tell her? Could be your last chance." The smile on her face stretches from ear to ear.

"Don't you fucking touch her." He growls.

"You're in no position to be making demands. I believe I am." She starts pacing around the room.

"What do you want?"

"You, obviously." She giggles like a school girl.

"Not going to happen."

"Fine, then I'll just play with my new toy." She pivots to face me. "It's Phoenix, right?" She asks me with a snarky smirk. "You know, cutie, she's very pretty. I can see why they're calling her your weakness, but you know my reputation. She might not be so pretty when I'm done playing with her. And before you have a chance to insult me, I'd like to remind you to be careful. Your little birdie is sitting right here. I'd think twice before you say something you'll regret."

"You sadistic cunt. You should've stayed dead." My mouth drops open along with Casandra's. I've never heard his voice so gruff and intense before. She walks toward me with steam coming out of her nose. She looks at the guy on the right.

"Seventh stitch." She orders. "You don't stop until I say." He reaches down lifting up my shirt and presses his enormous sausage finger on the middle of my stitched up wound. I shriek as he pushes harder onto my injured side. She holds the phone out at me. "That's right. Tell him how much that hurts." She yells over my screams. "You brought this on her." She says into the phone before hanging up. She quickly shoves the guy's hand away from me. "That's enough." She kneels next to me examining if the stitching is still okay. She looks up at me smiling sweetly. "Thanks for doing your job. Get her out of my sight. I've had enough of her today."

The two guys lift me up and carry me out of the room. I wanted to know more about Casandra. It looks like I'm getting what I asked for.