Birthed by a monster

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

Here's where we find out what happens when Thea's in trouble. Also, how she reacts to certain situations.

Chapter 4 (v.2) - (4) not without a fight

Submitted: May 02, 2016

Reads: 197

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Submitted: May 02, 2016



I woke up to a splitting head ache and numb body. My head was swimming and my eyes couldn’t seem to focus on much. With a muffled groan, I shut my eyes and drew in deep breaths before reopening them again.


This time everything was clear, the brown wooden ceiling that entered my vision, proved it. My limbs felt heavy and stiff but I’ve been through worse. Even though it’s been a while since I had a beating, I’ve still been through worse.


That’s what I kept telling myself when I tried to move. At first I started small, my fingers. I suppress a hiss when a hot blade of pain cut through my finger before the it dragged its way up my arm and to my chest where my lungs still felt weak from being choked.


 When I heard the echo of a door slamming nearby, I hurried to get up from the ground. Trying my best to ignore the strain in my body, I forced myself to my feet and staggered out the living room.


With every step I took, it’d jolt my bruises and I clenched my jaw in an attempt to push it aside. A dull ache spread at my shoulder and I had to hold my bad arm with my good one, to keep it in place.


A dizzy spell struck and I nearly fell off my feet but leaned against a nearby wall for support. When it passed, I forced myself to move faster, so my father wouldn’t catch me.


If he still saw me staggering around, he’d be sure to beat the weakness out me again. With a new found determination, the fear of angering my father had me zipping up the stairs and into my room.


Stumbling inside, my knees threaten to give way but I held strong. Now, I could attend to my wounds. When taking a glimpse at the night clock on my nightstand, I had a couple hours to do it before school started.


First, I took a look at my shoulder. When touching the tender skin with my fingers, nausea swirled in my stomach. That was all I needed to conclude my diagnosis. It was dislocated. There’s only one way to fix that, no matter how painful that method may be.


Once retrieving a face cloth from the bathroom attached to my room, I rolled it up before biting into it. With a deep breath, I brought my hand to my left forearm and forced it upwards, pushing my arm back into the socket.


My teeth dug deep into the cloth, stopping me from screaming out at the pulsing throb it sent through me. My body swayed and I felt the strong urge to throw up, but I kept going.


When it was back in place, I let out a sigh of relief and the sweat collecting over my forehead slowly cooled down. Now, with the hard part done, I could tend to the rest of me.


- - -


I was now pressed up against a stack of lockers, leaning into them for support. Even though I took the strongest pain killers I could find, my body still buzzed with a throb.


I tried my best to avoid being swallowed by the mass of teens rushing to class. It was my English lesson now and I was making my way to the library because I hadn’t gotten the slip signed yet and I didn’t think I ever would. It was a suicide mission.


So with no need to rush anywhere, I took my time. Slowly yet barely making any progress towards my destination, I was tried my best to avoid being shoved into. When the crowd quickly began to thin out, I let out a breath of relief and my shoulders finally relaxed.


 That was till I saw a familiar mop of ruffled brown hair. Slick strolled past me without a glance as he made his way down.


It was then I remembered the loss of weight that usually hung on my shoulders at this time of day. Without thinking, I said “My bag.” The sound of my voice had him halt in his tracks before turning around to face me with a curious expression. “What was that, Loner?”


Ducking my head to avoid eye contact, I pretend to pick at the dirt of my nails. “Where’s my bag?” “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” was his careless reply as if he had better places to be. And I’m sure he did, like a fight perhaps. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.


 Irritation flared up as my head shot up to lock my eyes with his. He was stalling, pushing my buttons to get a rile out of me. It worked, but as usual, I didn’t let it show. So I tried my best not to narrow my eyes into slits when regarding him.


“Yes, you do.” Stuffing his hands into his unzipped jacket, he narrowed his eyes on me. “Are you calling me a liar?” and that’s when I knew I’d never get it back. That I’d have to buy a new set of books along with another bag.


 Maybe, I’d find it dumped in a bin nearby; if I was lucky. I shook my head in defeat. I didn’t have it in me to deal with him now, or anyone in general. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I grumbled beneath my breath while glaring at my feet.


I was about to leave.


That’s till I was shoved into a locker, a loud bang sounding in the tense air around us. My head had bounced off the metal and I was instantly dizzy. My vision blurred as a painful chime went off in my head. When it finally cleared, my eyes were locked with Slick’s.


The way he glared at me had a scary resemblance to my father. His short temper sometimes put me on edge. With his stormy eyes flashing emotions of rage, his hands pressed on either side of my shoulders.


 “Mind repeating that?” his minty breath wavered my nose and I had to swallow down a snarky remark. Yes, I would have loved to repeat my words along with other things I so desperately wanted to tell him, but I held my tongue.


Instead, I let my gaze flicker between his foggy eyes before setting them on his strong chin. With a lick of my lips, I shook my head a ‘no’. I clenched my fist when he landed his heavy hand over my healing shoulder.


 The zips of pain that flared up almost made me wince. “Talk,” he sneered. The way he said it had my mind drift back to a few days ago when I had used that word. When it hadn’t worked and I ended up- No, let’s not go there yet. Or ever.


My lips remained sealed, not willing to give him what he wanted. He shoved me to the ground and I landed on my knees, my out stretched hands bracing the impact. I let my eyes stay glued on the tiled floor and refused to look up to his probably smug face.


He was letting me off easy, this could have turned out so much worse but it seemed he didn’t really feel like bothering me much. “Mute,” he mocked under his breath followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. When I was sure he was gone and out of sight, I finally looked up but gasped at the sudden sight in front of me.


A person hidden behind a ski mask reached out to grab me. My fists instinctively took a good jab at their throat before I shot to my feet and made a run for it. I let out a surprised grunt when running into someone’s hard chest. By the lack of softness to the person’s chest, I knew it was a male.


The person wrapped his arms tightly around me and tried hauling me away. Another ski masked attacker. Adrenaline ignited my blood the same way instinct triggered my actions. My hands shot to his throat. Choking him, I jerked my knee into his torso.


Instantly, the man let me go and without wasting a moment, I crouched down and did a three-sixty sweep if my leg. Ankles knocked from under him, he was down in seconds. I knew this scene far too well.



 Before I could get back to my feet, arms wrapped around me from behind and locked their hands at my stomach, having my forearms pressed tightly against my sides.


I was suddenly lifted into the air and pain exploded around my bruised torso. I gritted my teeth while trying to free myself but I already knew that from this position, there was no way it’d happen.


 A new person came into view, wearing the same designed ski mask as his friends, he took hold of my feet to seize my struggling.


Slight panic hit me when a third member came into view with a filthy rag in hand. If I didn’t act fast, they’d drug me. It’d be game over.


With a burst of strength, I managed to tug my left ankle free and have my heel crash into the person’s shoulder in an attempt to push them away. A grunt emitted for him when he stumbled a bit.


 With my legs were free, I had the heels of my sneakers swing backward into my captive’s shins. A small yell was heard and I’m free from the rope like arms.


Landing hard on my knees, I shot up and surged forward, ready to get as far away from this place as possible. But I was too slow.


A hand clasped around the base of my neck and a rag pressed over my nose and mouth. With eyes shut and my breath held, I tried spinning out their grasp but they only tightened their hold.


With a thumb pressed in the base of my neck, the nerves around the area felt like they were burning. At the sudden burst of pain, I inhaled. My nose filled with the strong stench of chemicals and dust. The drug worked quickly because the fight in me had instantly left my body, leaving behind a bunch of weak and heavy limbs.


I cursed myself for my slip up, knowing that at any moment, I’d be knocked out. And I was right because seconds later, my body crashed into the ground as my heavy eyelids slowly fluttered shut.


- - -


I woke up feeling exactly how I felt this morning. A headache pounding to a rhythmical beat and my body feeling sore all over.


My shoulders joints hurt the most, the pain overriding everything else. With a suppressed groan, I opened my heavy eyelids. I immediately re-shut them once a harsh light burnt my eyes.


Drawing in a deep breath, I braced myself before trying again. At first, all I saw was white before blobs of shapes appeared, adding color to them, I could finally see my surroundings.


I was in a large empty room. Huge class windows covered most of the wall space with the exception of metal doors and the solid concrete wall on my right and front of me. I wasn’t alone, stationed at every exit stood bulky built men dressed in black shirts and dark jeans.


They weren’t focused on me though, the way their hushed voices drifted across the room, proved that. They were too far away for me to make out any features but not far enough for me not to hear their voices.


“Why do we need this chick again,” one of them asked, their voice a little gruff to my ears. Like how someone would sound right after having a good smoke or two. “Boss said she was Jack’s right hand man,” another voice answered, this one having such depth to it that it nearly sounded like a hum.


 I tensed at the mention of my father’s name. It reminded me that even if I ever got out of here, he’d be furious that I didn’t fight back hard enough. That I was weak. The man’s answer was followed by a scoff.


“Still don’t see it though. Why tell all your secrets to a girl who hasn’t even reach puberty?” The deep voice mocked and my cheeks warm with embarrassment and anger. Yes, with my small frame and barely developed assets, it was hard for people to believe I was any older than thirteen.


 But he didn’t need to mock me because of it. I hated when people poked fun at my size and looks. But in the end, I guess you could say it’s an advantage. No one expects a girl to know how to fight, much less a thirteen year old girl.


 “I bet it’s ‘cause she screw’n with him,” the gruffer voice said and I had to cringe at his suggestion. To everyone, my father didn’t get married much less have a daughter. So in their eyes, I was his right hand man- or should I say girl?


 With our nose and skin tone being the only resemblance between us and the fact they don’t know he has a kid, it made sense that they would think that. I mean, come on, a monster like that having a little descendant of his own? It sounded ridiculous. But it happened.


“Now that you mentioned it, I haven’t got’n a lay since last night. I’m feel’n kinda restless with all this stress build’n, up you know,” the same man said and I quickly lost inertest in their conversation.


I focused my attention elsewhere, like how the hell was I gonna escape before my father found out. It’s only then I noticed I was standing up right, and when snapping my eyes to my feet, I was disheartened to find mental chains wrapped round both my ankles and nailed to the ground.


Judging by the length of the chains, I’d say I could only take one foot forward before it’d restrict me from going further. An angry flash of pain went off in my shoulders and that’s when my gaze had fixed on them.


My arms were hoisted above my head, thick metal chain attached to the ceiling was what kept them up. There was definitely no way of getting out of this one.

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