Two Weeks in Hell - pt 4

"You know, sometimes I think that you just brought me here to humiliate me." She said under her breath, ferociously chopping the carrot.
"What? Demi, do you hear yourself. Why would I do that!" Travis sighed, frustrated. "Whatever. I'll leave you to this then." He left the room in a hurry, leaving Demi alone in the large, dim kitchen. All that she could hear was the loud thump of the knife hitting the board each time and the sounds of her frantic breath coming from clenched teeth.

"Cooking while angry never ends well, trust me." said a voice behind her. She spun around, knife still in hand to see Brian at the door. Her anger left for a moment as she watched the poor man who was in the same situation as she was, but not even he could keep her from returning to those dark thoughts. She turned back around and began the chopping again.

"You're going to have to make a choice sometime. It's Travis or your own sanity. Can you really stand all this?" he asked her.
"How do you do it? How can you just stand there and deal with all the crap they throw at you?"
"I don't know really. I love Valerie. I don't know what I'd do without her. But I guess I just know that I only have to see them for a short time each year. Besides, now that you've come in, they've taken a little of the heat off me."
"Great." sighed Demi. Brian wasn't helping her much, so she turned back to her work, knowing that in a few seconds, Travis' mum was going to come through those doors and start yelling at her asking why the vegetables weren't cut up yet.
"Just...you need to calm down, I guess. I can see the anger, every time they talk to you. And they can see it too. They're loving that anger, Demi. Just ignore them. They're not worth ruining what you have with Travis." Demi smiled, know that he was right.
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd only say that to keep me here so that you can get out of the worst of it."
Brian was about to answer when the doors behind him swung open, hitting him in the back.
"Brian, get out of the way!" Yelled Travis' mum. "Didn't your mother ever teach you some decent manners.
"Sorry Mrs Parr. i don't know what I was thinking." answered Brian, rubbing his back and scurrying out of the room. She looked over Demi's work with her nose up in disgust.
"No, girl!. What are you doing! You don't cut the carrots lengths ways! Stupid girl! Let me do it!" She yelled, pushing Demi out of the way with her humongous body and taking over. Demi snapped. She was sick of getting thrown around like a rag doll.
"No, Mrs Parr. I've got it." She argued, pushing back hard, and taking the knife.
"Don't you push!"
"If you'd just let me-" They fought for the knife and control over the bench, when in one hasty movement, the large blade came down hard, slicing the tip of Mrs Parr's finger. There was no doubt about it, it was Demi's fault. No only had she caused the fight, but she had also forced the knife down, unintentionally bringing the woman to screams.
"What have you done you little brat!" She screamed. Demi, frantically looked around for a cloth and the woman wailed. Soon the whole family was crammed into the kitchen, trying to help. There was no time for blame and insults, other than from the woman who was howling them at Demi by the second. The woman was carried out of the house and into an ambulance, and members of the family jumped in cars to the hospital.
When all the hype was gone, there was only Demi, left in the kitchen. There was blood everywhere, covering the benches and the floor and all of the food lain out. It was as if the woman had purposely flailed her arms out everywhere, so that her blood covered every square inch of the kitchen, just so she could smite Demi even more for cutting her finger. Demi guessed that she was expected to clean up.
She stood for a moment, quiet and still. She barely breathed. All her senses had shut down except for her sight. And all she could see was the blood. The glorious blood. Blood of a horrible woman, but blood none the less. It was the substance which she most prominently discussed in her novel, and all of her writing since her first horror movie when she was twelve years old.
There was something different about her now, something different, yet oddly familiar.

A new, dark world

The grass is long and waxy beneath my feet and the strong wind whips it around my toes. My hair, like the grass is defenseless against the wild wind and threatens to escape from the hair tie. A baby howls in the distance and bells chime in the strong wind caused by the approaching hurricane. I studied the village homes from my place on the hill. The huts were basic, made from anything they could find; sheets of reinforced iron, stones, bricks, tree branches. They won’t be still standing in 48 hours. It was the image of a desperate shanty town, grasping for life in a world that didn’t care; but I knew better. These people had it good. They were safe and alive, and in the new world, that’s all you needed and that’s all that separated you from the victims of the disease. The village was surrounded by a barb-wire fence. It was tall and it was sturdy; it did a lot to hold back those who would risk the safety of the others. Not often would you come by a victim these days, but the villagers still didn’t feel safe.
But now nature was going to force them out of safety, to force them to find safer ground in the worlds of the unknown. This is their home and they were relying on me to help them. I had been alone for so long that seeing fresh faces that were living and safe was almost a shock. They were faces that were scared and intimidated by my arrival, but were still fighting strong for some sense of civilization.
I turned southbound, following the direction of the wind and gazed out over the fields of crops that the villagers continued to slave over. None of the people I had seen looked to have eaten anything for weeks. They looked like only skin and bone, imitating the thin wire that protected and supported them; feeble to the eye, but strong and hard working.
Out in the fields I watched children and a father clawing through the dirt, searching for potatoes. The children- as innocent as they were – had made a game from the search, laughing with their hollow voices and rolling in the dirt.
“Simon, stop that at once!” yelled the father at one particular boy who was throwing the fresh potatoes at a small girl. “Don’t you dare bruise them, or you won’t get dinner for a week! You’re old enough now to know that that potato is all we have!” The father had a young infant strapped to his back and as he searched desperately for his weekly meals, the child wailed and screamed for her mother. She flung her limbs all over the place, trying to resist the hold of the carrier, but the struggle was pointless effort and soon after being continually ignored, she calmed down and hung loosely, enjoying the ride and falling asleep.

Valentine's Poem

There once was a love,
a love so beautiful
that it shone brighter than the sun
and the stars combined.

There once was a love,
a love so strong
that it stood tall against every war and every hardship
until the ends of time.

There once was a love,
a love so perfect
that it was studied for centuries after love grew extinct
considered as complex as the Pyramids.

There once was a love,
a love so fantastic
that it brought the entire human civilization down on its knees
and a tear to the eye of the coldest soul.

There once was a love,
a love so craved by others
that they poked and prodded, wanting it desperately to fall,
so that they might not feel so destroyed under its light.

There once was a love,
a love so united
that they were bound by blood, soul and mind
that couldn't ever be destroyed.

There once was a love,
a love so hard to find
that people spend their lives searching for it
an endless and hopeless journey for this one desire.

There once was a love,
a love I wish for everyone.
You will find it one day, trust me.
Love is a fate that doesn't want to be searched for,
that doesn't want to be categorised,
that doesn't want to be forgotten.
Trust in fate, it knows what it's doing.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone :) <3

2 Weeks in Hell - pt 5

“I know they’re a pain, Demi, but what can I do?” asked Travis looking down on a tired Demi. She was crouched down behind the boat shed. The sand beneath her was dark and cool compared to the burning brightness it is during the day. She played with the sand between her fingers, tracing images on the surface. She much preferred the beach at night, much better than while the sun poured over the land with its harsh rays and heat. She didn’t much like burning each day. And she very much liked how the night was when everyone was finally quiet, the only time when she wasn’t criticised for being there or for doing something wrong.
Travis though was the total opposite. He stood there shivering, hoping that she’ll just get over it and come inside like a sane person.
“Did you just bring me here to hurt me?” she asked, not looking at him.
“What? No, Demi, I would never do that.” He answered, crouching down to her level. “Trust me, it’ll all get better in time. You just have to be strong.”
“No, Travis! It won’t ever get better! Brian told me that. He said he’d been criticized and hurt by them every time he sees them. That’s why you barely ever see Valerie, because he never lets her come home.” She cried. She could see the shock register in his face, and instantly regretted her words. “Travis, I know that sounds awful, but I could never do that. I don’t want to ever separate you from your family, but I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Well what do you want me to do?” He asked standing up again. Any sympathy was gone from his voice, and Demi knew she had said the wrong thing.
“I…I don’t know. Anything… I just feel so angry, but I can’t do anything about it. And it’s killing me inside!” her frustration was getting the better of her and she was beginning to shout.
“Demi, I’m just getting so sick of you complaining all the time. You’ve got to get used to all types of people! I know you haven’t had the best of family lives, but you can’t expect to meet all loving people all the time. You can’t kill off people like you can in your books!” he yelled back. She didn’t look up at him, she didn’t want to see him angry. His words were enough to cut deep.
When she didn’t speak again he turned and started to head back to the house, deciding he was sick of the cold.
“Anastasia could…” she whispered. She intended to keep that to herself, but her words were carried on the cool sea breeze.
"What did you say?" asked Travis.
"Nothing." she quickly countered.
"No, you said Anastasia... Demi, don't do this."
"Travis, what am I doing!" she shouted, her rage boiling up inside. Her eyes burned and her throat tightened. Quicker than Demi had expected, he got down on his knees and grabbed her shoulders so that she would look at him.
"Do not say that Demi! Anastasia is a character! A cruel, cold-blooded character!" He began shaking her shoulders lightly, hoping that she realised how serious he was.
"But she could." Demi replied darkly.
"Yeah, and do you know what happened to her? Of course you do, because you wrote it! She was caught and was killed!" He stared desperately into her dark green eyes, but he didn't see any changes. She still wore her brutal determination on her face.
"Kill them all, Demi. Do it." he told her flatly, seriousness in his voice.
"W-what?" she asked in utter disbelief.
"I said, please come inside with me." he repeated. Travis didn't see the confusion Demi was experiencing, and with those words in her mind, she got up subconsciously and followed him in.

Curse of the Loveless

The candles did little to brighten the room, but she didn’t need any light to know what was about to happen. He threw his robe casually over his shoulders and whispered in her ear, “I’m just going to get us some drinks.” The fire on the left side of the room roared on evenly, and heated the room thoroughly, adding to the sweat collecting on her forehead from the nerves she felt. She stopped him just before he left her side.
“Wait,” she whispered. She stroked his warm cheek and looked at his innocent face. “Please, wait. I need to tell you something.”
“Anything.”
“I’m not going to be here much longer.” He looked at her confused, not understanding the curse that had held her down for centuries. “But I want you to know… that I love you.” The last few words came to her lips as easy as she could breathe, but she had to force them out, force them to be heard. And they were heard by the boy leaning on her bed. He understood them and ate them up like they were as common as a greeting.
“I love you too.” he told her, but she didn’t know if she could really believe him. But it didn’t matter what he believed. It was only the fact that she had finally felt love, and she knew she had, and that she had said the words before she was taken away. She could feel it coming.
By falling in love she had broken the one rule of the contract, and now she would have to pay for it in the depths of Hell.
A pain began to swell in the centre of her back. She reached back as far as she could to feel what was happening to her. Her back was bare and the skin was warm and smooth, but there was something wrong. Where the pain was accumulating she could feel a bone protruding out and pressing against the skin. She heard a snap and felt the new pain radiate through her body as another bone shattered out of place. And another and another. She didn’t cry or scream; she knew this was her fate now and she didn’t want to bring her love rushing in just to see her taken away in her worst.
She let a breath and a squeak escape from her mouth as she felt the skin break. She realized then that he bones were not the cause of the tear; they were simply making room for the something coming through.
She could feel something moving up her back and over her shoulder, a creeping sensation and yet oddly familiar. She didn’t want to see it; she wanted her execution to move as fast as possible. Though she knew she didn’t have that luxury. Her breath became more rapid as she forgot the pain and waited for what was about to happen next. She took a cautious glance at the hanging mirror in front of her, instantly regretting her decision, because crawling over her shoulder was a bloody arm, its fingers stretched out as if to grab her. It stood out strong against the bright flame behind her as it reached down and cover her mouth tight to stop her from screaming the breath she just inhaled. It clamped down hard on her face, too strong for her to release. She pried at it with all her strength, but fighting back was useless. Another arm reached over her shoulder and began pulling her shoulder down, back where it came from. Same was done to her other shoulder, and arms and legs. Bones were broken as easily as twigs and blood was left dripping on the floor.
The tears ran down her face in an endless stream of desperation and she was yet to let out a single noise. The boy down stairs in the kitchen would be left alone, wondering where she had gotten to. He would miss her, search for her. But then he would get over her and move on. She was forgettable to him, like most things in his short life. But he would stay burned into her mind for the rest of eternity as the one who sent her to Hell, all because she loved him.
Her limbs had been completely sucked into the black hole that had formed in her back as a gateway to Hell. All was left was her head really, and like with the rest of her, an arm reached out and pulled her back. At some point, after having her head dragged back to the point of her neck snapping completely, she lost her vision and all she could see was the blackness, but she wasn’t dead yet, and she didn’t expect to die.
Her love entered the room only a few moments before she was gone altogether to find only a puddle of blood where he expected to see a beautiful girl…