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crowsThe room goes black. Time stops in my hands; a tether I can feel pulling against the skin of my fingers. I can remember a time when I didn’t things like this happened to people.
Two pairs of hands touch me, and a voice that must accompany an approaching third is shouting something incoherent. I feel a sharp pain just inside my left shoulder blade; then liquid searing spreading from the puncture. My mind harbors no doubt; I know the sensation of a hypodermic needle, have learned to fear it. I cry out. My voice melts into electricity, failing on the air. I cannot recognize my voice.
Then, at the fraying edge of my consciousness, another man is shouting. “No, no!” It echoes in my mind, getting mixed up with the after burn of light on the retina, twisted into the lingering burn of the drug in my blood.
Darkness. And silence.
I came to listening to the music of tires on wet pavement, fast. A roar muffled through the upholstered seat my head was resting against. My head was throbbing; a pain antagonized by the push of passing streetlamps through my closed eyelids. For it, I deigned to open my eyes a while… when I did, it was to strangely familiar surroundings. My bearings were very slow in coming. I recognized smells and textures more than I did sight, at first. Color. It was dark. I was in the back of a car. My car. I didn’t usually see it from this vantage point. Prying my lids open a little further, I could see the sliver of a young man’s face in the rearview mirror. His mouth was set in a hard line, eye narrowed slightly, concentrated, angry. Trent. Trent Sahen’s face.
I was about to speak, but I hesitated… deciding it would be more prudent to further assess my situation before I did anything to change it.
I was nude beneath the hasty wrap of a white coat. I could feel the line of the seatbelt loosely over my hip and side, where it had been carefully set to prevent me from rolling off the seat should we come to an abrupt halt. On top of that was a blanket that smelled faintly of soap and sandalwood; like Trent’s apartment, I realized… though I’d never before identified the scent. Without moving, I could crane my bleary eyes toward the passenger seat. There was something there, and I was at first terrified that it was another person but presently realized that it was a pile of assorted, unidentifiable items that added up to nothing like another human being. Trent and I were alone in my car. We were moving fast, over freeway somewhere. I could see nothing but sky and tall streetlights out the windows.
Upon moving finally to speak, I coughed first, the sharp tang of blood flooding my senses. I gagged, choked down the bile, and shakily sat up in my seat. Trent, looking a little startled, was peering at me in the mirror. His face, though alarmed, had softened to concern. He adjusted the mirror so we could see one another’s faces.
“Amber?”
I nodded, not quite able to find my voice.
“Do you remember me?”
His voice was softer, then… as if hanging by the finest thread of silk, terrified of breaking some invisible membrane. I nodded again, and he seemed to relax a little, shifting his hands on the wheel. I managed to maneuver myself up into a proper sitting position, and wriggled my way underneath the shoulder belt. It was cold. The first words I managed to cough out were a strangled request for him to turn on the heat, to which he acquiesced quietly. I curled deeper into his blanket.
“What happened?” I ventured, a little more clearly.
His face twisted in the mirror, eyes having long since returned to the road. The turn signal clicked, marking the time of the seconds with an unhealthy looking green glow pulsing on Trent’s left cheek.
“They were going to cut you up like… damnit, like some kind of animal, like a high school science project.” He sucked a breath through his teeth, hissing as we swayed into a narrow turn lane and away from the highway. “It was madness! I don’t know how I got you out of there…” Speaking low, his voice had dropped into a steady monotone, but I could tell he was very upset.
“I don’t know how my father thinks he can do that kind of thing to people and get away with it. I just… don’t. Somebody’s going to find out sooner or later, someone who can do something, and…” He stopped up short as my hand came upon his shoulder. I leaned against my seatbelt, squeezing him firmly to emphasize my words, however haltingly they came.
“I… do not, exist, Trent. No legal records, no social security number, no bank account, no vehicle registration, nothing. We’re the only one’s that know about me. You, and I, and them.”
Trent was silent for a long time after that. I leaned back again, and went back to sleep.
[Yes, there is some missing. How do you like them apples?]
Two pairs of hands touch me, and a voice that must accompany an approaching third is shouting something incoherent. I feel a sharp pain just inside my left shoulder blade; then liquid searing spreading from the puncture. My mind harbors no doubt; I know the sensation of a hypodermic needle, have learned to fear it. I cry out. My voice melts into electricity, failing on the air. I cannot recognize my voice.
Then, at the fraying edge of my consciousness, another man is shouting. “No, no!” It echoes in my mind, getting mixed up with the after burn of light on the retina, twisted into the lingering burn of the drug in my blood.
Darkness. And silence.
I came to listening to the music of tires on wet pavement, fast. A roar muffled through the upholstered seat my head was resting against. My head was throbbing; a pain antagonized by the push of passing streetlamps through my closed eyelids. For it, I deigned to open my eyes a while… when I did, it was to strangely familiar surroundings. My bearings were very slow in coming. I recognized smells and textures more than I did sight, at first. Color. It was dark. I was in the back of a car. My car. I didn’t usually see it from this vantage point. Prying my lids open a little further, I could see the sliver of a young man’s face in the rearview mirror. His mouth was set in a hard line, eye narrowed slightly, concentrated, angry. Trent. Trent Sahen’s face.
I was about to speak, but I hesitated… deciding it would be more prudent to further assess my situation before I did anything to change it.
I was nude beneath the hasty wrap of a white coat. I could feel the line of the seatbelt loosely over my hip and side, where it had been carefully set to prevent me from rolling off the seat should we come to an abrupt halt. On top of that was a blanket that smelled faintly of soap and sandalwood; like Trent’s apartment, I realized… though I’d never before identified the scent. Without moving, I could crane my bleary eyes toward the passenger seat. There was something there, and I was at first terrified that it was another person but presently realized that it was a pile of assorted, unidentifiable items that added up to nothing like another human being. Trent and I were alone in my car. We were moving fast, over freeway somewhere. I could see nothing but sky and tall streetlights out the windows.
Upon moving finally to speak, I coughed first, the sharp tang of blood flooding my senses. I gagged, choked down the bile, and shakily sat up in my seat. Trent, looking a little startled, was peering at me in the mirror. His face, though alarmed, had softened to concern. He adjusted the mirror so we could see one another’s faces.
“Amber?”
I nodded, not quite able to find my voice.
“Do you remember me?”
His voice was softer, then… as if hanging by the finest thread of silk, terrified of breaking some invisible membrane. I nodded again, and he seemed to relax a little, shifting his hands on the wheel. I managed to maneuver myself up into a proper sitting position, and wriggled my way underneath the shoulder belt. It was cold. The first words I managed to cough out were a strangled request for him to turn on the heat, to which he acquiesced quietly. I curled deeper into his blanket.
“What happened?” I ventured, a little more clearly.
His face twisted in the mirror, eyes having long since returned to the road. The turn signal clicked, marking the time of the seconds with an unhealthy looking green glow pulsing on Trent’s left cheek.
“They were going to cut you up like… damnit, like some kind of animal, like a high school science project.” He sucked a breath through his teeth, hissing as we swayed into a narrow turn lane and away from the highway. “It was madness! I don’t know how I got you out of there…” Speaking low, his voice had dropped into a steady monotone, but I could tell he was very upset.
“I don’t know how my father thinks he can do that kind of thing to people and get away with it. I just… don’t. Somebody’s going to find out sooner or later, someone who can do something, and…” He stopped up short as my hand came upon his shoulder. I leaned against my seatbelt, squeezing him firmly to emphasize my words, however haltingly they came.
“I… do not, exist, Trent. No legal records, no social security number, no bank account, no vehicle registration, nothing. We’re the only one’s that know about me. You, and I, and them.”
Trent was silent for a long time after that. I leaned back again, and went back to sleep.
[Yes, there is some missing. How do you like them apples?]
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no subject
Date: 2004-08-14 11:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-14 03:19 pm (UTC)DUDE!! I totally sold some metaphysics books (Celestine Prophecy, etc) to a guy who looked and acted quite like I've imagined Trent to be, only he was like... thirty, and Trent's about twenty five. :D