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No!
"Stop!" I shout, but he's figured me out after all, and he doesn't even pause as he heads to the exit, flips the light switch off, and closes the door, locking me inside the silent darkness.
It's sensory deprivation at its most cruel.
I blink, but there's no light in here.
There's no sound either, except for the rising panic of my own breath and the pounding of my heart vibrating between my ears. This is my punishment for not cooperating. I guess he thinks if he can't break me, he'll let my own mind do it for him instead.
Smart bastard.
My heart beats faster and faster until the hammering steadies into a resounding loud pulse. It's nearly deafening between my ears, and it might actually sever the last of my sanity before everything quiets, and I am brought back to the before.
I stare down at the book. I'm probably six or seven, sitting at the dining room table at my parents' house. My father walks in and says, "Read it to me."
I feel everything in me clench at the command, but I do as I'm told. I look at the first word on the page.
"Once," I read aloud, "there w . . . w . . . was a b . . . boy . . ."
The words jumble together, flipping up and around, melding into symbols I don't recognize.
I falter.
"I said read it, boy," my father barks, and I try again.
"Once, there was a boy . . ."
But that's as far as I get. There are no words anymore, just symbols, lines and squiggles jumbled together. He steps behind me, grabs the back of my head, and slams my forehead into the desk. The world goes black for a minute, and blood bursts from my nose onto the table.
"You really are one stupid little fuck, aren't you?" he says with a scoff before he decides I'm not worth his time and leaves.
Then I'm back at my old school, the one before Chryseum, but this isn't right. I'm not supposed to be here. I try to ground myself in the present. My thumb twitches in an attempt to roll the wheel and ignite the flame, but the lighter isn't here and there's nothing to ground me. Over and over again, I make the motion, but it's a lost cause.
Iam lost.
I'm taken back to the before again.
I stand in front of books, dozens of precious books behind glass cases. The school staff says they're worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, specifically brought in during family visitation weekend to impress our parents. I play with the lighter as I stare at the books. I roll the wheel and press the button over and over again, on and off, on and off, until it slips on and stays there.
I take a piece of paper from my pocket and hold it to the flame, igniting it. The fire is so pretty as the red, yellow, and orange colors fuse together, gyrating and dancing on the page. I want to stare at it. I want to look at it until the flames eat it up.
It goes against every instinct I have, but I force myself to drop the paper. I watch as the flames spread to the rug and grow higher and higher, until they lick the glass cases of the books. The heat is so intense I feel like I'm baking from the front, but I can't move. It's beautiful. The alarms are blaring, and if I hadn't cut off the main water line in the basement, the sprinklers would've already come on, but I've learned from my mistakes. I stand there until smoke billows around me and every breath is a struggle. Then finally, when the choice is either death or to remain, I choose to live.
It's the event that got me sent here.
Four million dollars worth of damages when it was all said and done.
My thumb hits the chair again, but still, I can't manage to ground myself. I'm flung ahead, further in time, and there she is, the person who made this hellhole livable, and her black hair turns almost blue beneath the flames and she's smiling as we set shit on fire in the basement just to watch it burn. She grabs my hand and squeezes it tight, looking over at me.
I don't want to think about her, the fucking ghost. She died and left me here to deal with all the bullshit. She left me here with him.
She. Abandoned. Me.
It's too late, though. I can't unsee it now, and she looks right at me and mouths something, but my mind is fracturing, pieces coming apart and sliding together in a puzzle that doesn't quite fit. The memory is leaving, and my heartbeat pounds louder in the darkness. I blink out at nothing, trying to remember, my hand flicking at the lighter that isn't there, and with everything in me, I take a deep breath and I fucking scream.
But the cry is lost, absorbed by the padded walls.
I am left in the dark, playing victim to my own thoughts.
