Page 48 of Twisted Heathens
“I don’t, fuck… I can’t…” Hudson stumbles.
Jabbing a finger at her chest, Brooklyn’s voice drips with contempt as she cuts him off. “You did this to me. You are the reason I’m here, why I’m screwed beyond repair. Nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, will ever fix that. Walk away and never return.”
She lays back down, dismissing us all. Hudson stares for a split second before turning and storming away, kicking the desk chair so hard on his way out, a dramatic crack splits the back. He storms out the door, leaving us both gaping and completely flummoxed.
“You both too. I mean it, fuck off already,” Brooklyn shouts.
I glance at Kade who gestures towards the exit, apparently willing to give in. I’m tempted to stay and argue some more, but frankly, she’s in no fit state. There’s only so much I can do for someone so unwilling.
“You sure?” Kade asks gently.
Her hard, clipped response follows. “Are you still fucking here?”
His shoulders slump in defeat as he walks away. I make sure the covers are pulled up tight to Brooklyn’s chin and gently brush her tangled hair. I’m aching to do more, regardless of her feelings.
“You know where we are if you need us,” I offer.
“I won’t. Just leave and don’t fucking come back, alright?”
We reluctantly do as we’re told, and it takes every ounce of respect for her privacy that I have. Whatever shadowy treatment they conduct in that basement, it’s crippled her for good.
Seventeen
Brooklyn
Twisted by MISSIO
Forcing my numb legs to move, I take the stairs two at a time. It’s painful but I push myself regardless, warming my body up in preparation for a gruelling run. Anything to get the static out of my mind that refuses to lift, no matter how loud I scream into my pillow at night.
Nothing’s been the same since I returned two days ago.
Admittedly, I haven’t really left my room in that time. Only to visit the nurse’s station for meds, or else they threatened to take me straight back to solitary. Lazlo has me on a strict new regime. I now get a shot every week, along with my daily pills like before. There’s no cheating. It’s injected straight in and rather than trusting me, I’m now watched like a fucking prisoner as I swallow each day. Mouth inspected after too, ensuring there’s no trickery and I’m actually swallowing them.
What a fucking joke.
As a result, all the plans I’ve laid are tattered and destroyed. I’ve been here a whole month yet somehow, I’m still at goddamn square one.
I can’t recall a single thing that happened in that basement. It’s all just a big, ugly blur in my mind. Punctuated by the awful memories of a time that I really don’t want to remember. The solitude brought all my demons back up to the surface, and now they refuse to be suppressed again.
Did they ever really leave me?
I’m expected back in class today. Considering how far behind I am at this point, it barely seems worth it. I was supposed be dead by now. If I hadn’t attacked Hudson, I’d be free. Finally, after all this time I was so close to getting what I want. I don’t know who I’m angrier with; myself or him.
I take off into the early morning mist. Readjusting to taking meds again along with the trauma of solitary has wrecked me, physically and emotionally. How I’ll get through classes, I have no idea. I need a new plan to get the hell out, November is fast approaching.
During my time in the hole, an official ‘search’ took place of all the residential blocks. There’s a contraband issue here, everyone knows it. They tore apart the rooms in a bid to hunt down the culprits. I quickly found that not only did they find and confiscate my stash of pills but my blades as well, along with anything else that was deemed risky.
Looping around the perimeter twice, counting the guards and cameras as I go, I’m still not ready to head back. What used to work for me is no longer helpful, I can’t seem to relieve this suffocating darkness in my mind. Opting for a different route, I head behind the slightly smaller Pinehill dorms and cut through the rear gardens.
Pristine greenery gradually melts away the further I run, growing unkempt and forgotten. Towering birch trees soon envelope me into the thick underbrush. When I come to a towering security fence that marks the edge of the property, I scale the perimeter in frustration, ready to admit defeat. I don’t expect to find a tiny, passable hole hidden in the corner.
Squeezing myself through the barbed wire, I hold my breath and make it to the other side, breaking into a sprint just in case anyone is watching. The further I run, the more removed I feel. Like I’ve entered into a different world, far from the nightmares of Blackwood. Out here in the unknown, I can almost forget the trap I’m stuck in. The harrowing reality that I actually have to live.
I’ve got four weeks to make it out.
Four weeks before the anniversary.
I jog into a clearing, finding a graveyard tucked into the Welsh wilderness. Black wrought iron gates encircle the space, filled with crumbling gravestones and statues. There’s a mausoleum at the back, imposing in all its gothic beauty. Willow trees sway in the light breeze, and golden leaves coat the pathway leading inside.