Practice Writing A-5: Blood Siblings

Writing Practice(s): File A-5 Date Published: 11:18, 25 February 2013 (Minnesota Time) Category: Mystery/Suspense/Humor Title: Blood Siblings

Writing Practice(s): File A-5

Category: Mystery/Suspense/Humor

Title: Blood Siblings

 

      The wind cascaded under my wings, stirring my spirit and quickening my heart beat.

      I was flying. I was actually flying!

      No one in our family had been able to fly since my great uncle, but now here I was! Soaring through the air and weaving my way through shafts of broken moonlight and nightly shafts of wind and air.

      I had never felt more alive.

      I somersaulted in midair, weaving in and out of the crooked tree branches that always seemed to be trying to snag at my wings and ears.

      I laughed and whooped in sheer joy at the feeling. If only I had something to drink right about now everything would be perfect...

      I glanced down at the speeding ground beneath me and smiled widely. Below me was a white barn with a pigs’ pen and chicken coop.

      Perfect.

      I swooped down and flew over the chicken coop, landing near the entryway to peer inside. Chickens lined the walls and feathers and hay and chicken feed littered the floors and nests that the fat and flightless birds sat upon.

      I wrinkled my nose at the stench and shook my head, taking to the skies once again.

      Too many, and they all stink.

      OK, so I’m having chicken blood tonight, let’s see what else is on the menu.

      I flew over the pigs’ pen and my nose immediately wrinkled in disgust. The sounds of their snorting and little squeals penetrated my ears. I shook my head and flew into the barn.

      Ugh, no thank you. Their blood is probably really fattening anyway.

      I heard a neigh and a snort and paused, hovering in midair, my ears twitching slightly, trying to locate the source of the sound.

      My eyes caught it first. Just on the other side of the barn was a large brown horse with a long black mane and tail and white socks.

      Perfect!

      I swooped down and landed stealthily on the sleeping mare’s neck. She didn’t even flinch or stir.

      Cautiously I drove my fangs into her lower neck, punchering the skin. Blood slowly oozed from the tiny wound. I licked my lips in anticipation and greedily licked up the red liquid.

      Mm. Horse blood is pretty good. Delicious.

      “Trevor...” a female voice whispered into the wind.

      I paused, unsure as to where the sound had hailed from.

      “Trevor, time to get up. Trevor...” the barn shook, making me lose my grip on the mare’s hide and falling onto the floor. I gasped as the mare awakened and panic, stomping her hooves against the ground, neighing in terror. The world around me began to shake and tremble, the barn crumbling and falling apart. Outside I could hear the pigs squealing in fear and the chickens squawking in panic. The wind howled like a raging werewolf as trees crashed to the ground like thunder rumbling in the sky.

      Terror seized my rapidly beating heart as everything fell to ruins around me. I trembled violently, my red eyes widening in fear. But the gentle female whisper still rang in my ears, telling me to wake up.

      I was so confused. What was happening? Why was this happening? Who was that female voice that still echoed the same phrase over and over again in my ears?

      “Trevor, time to get up sleepyhead. Come ‘on, time to get up...”

*****

      “...Trevor, Trevor, come ‘on, time to get up,”

      I groaned loudly and tried to cover my head with the sheets.

      “Trevor, stop it, get up,” she stopped shaking me gently and yanked the covers off my pale body. I groaned louder and recoiled into a tight ball. The air was cold compared to the warmth of the blankets.

      I hated waking up.

      “Come ‘on, Trevor, we need to hit the road,”

      “Yeah, I know, we’re leaving first thing at sunset,” I moaned and tried to go back to sleep.

      “No, we’re leaving first thing now,” retorted my sister. The sound of a zipper penetrated my ears. Must be my sister’s suitcase.

      I rubbed my eyes and leaned against my elbows for support. I hadn’t quite woken up yet.

      “And when is ‘now’, exactly?”

      “Eight o’clock in the morning,” she answered casually.

      Now I was awake. My tried eyes shot open wide and I stared at her in bewilderment. “W-What? In the m-morning? Are you insane, sis?”

      “What? I want to get an early start. We can’t always be waiting for the sun to set before we head out,” she threw me a pair of jeans and t-shirt from my backpack. I caught them and stared at her with a hint of fear in my eyes.

      “Madeline, you know we can’t go into the sun, we’ll get burned!” I protested and scrambled to put on my clothes.

      “Of please, we’ve been out in the sun before. We covered ourselves up and stayed in the shade, remember? I don’t see why you’re freaking out,” she answered casually, carefully folding her clothes and placing them into her suitcase.

      “I prefer not to be out in broad daylight when I have the chance, though,” I protested, struggling to put my shirt on. I guess it was getting a little small.

      Madeline sighed and yanked the shirt down. My head popped out the shirt hole. “Thanks,” I mumbled and reached for my belt.

      “Mm-hm,” she smiled smugly and tied her necklaces around her neck and put on the rest of her jewelry.

      My sister loves jewelry. She wears three different necklaces, fifteen different bracelets (she alternates which ones she wears day to day), has at least seven different kinds of ears rings, and eleven different rings (sometimes she’ll only wear one or two a day or sometimes she’ll wear them all and string the extra onto one of her necklaces.) I mean, I love her, but seriously, how much jewelry can one girl have? It’s getting a little ridiculous, not to mention expensive.

And it’s not like I have a steady job or a bottomless wallet or another rich dead relative we can just get some money from. We move around too much for me to have a steady job (I get work when I can, but most of the jobs out there require a greater commitment than just staying around for maybe a month or two, or less, depends), and our money from our deceased great uncle’s that he left for us in his will is running out. Plus, it’s not like we can just phone one our relatives and ask them to give us a hand in finances; all of our relatives are dead, including our parents. Our dad was killed when some villagers drove a wooden stake into his heart and who knows what happened to mom when that mob chased her down.

      I dunno, life just hasn’t been very easy for us. I just wish it didn’t have to be the way it is, but what’re you gonna do.

      I shook my head. “I dunno sis, I just don’t think going out in broad daylight is the best idea,”

      “We’ll be fine,” she tossed me my worn black backpack and my equally worn black hoodie.  I slipped on my hoodie and placed my journal and my sketchpad in my backpack and took out a pair of clean socks.

      I sighed. “Whatever,” I took off my dirty socks and put on the clean pair then took my necklaces from off the nightstand and tied them around my neck. The first one was a black raven with partially spread wings, as if it was about to take flight and ruby eyes that hung by black chain. It had been a gift from my mother for my 80^th birthday before she had been killed. The other was a plain dark silver cross that hung by a dark brown leather strap. I had just gotten it a few months ago when a kind pastor let us into his chapel and let us take refuge in it for the night when the cops had been chasing us. He told the officers that he hadn’t seen us come in but that he instead saw a pair of teenagers running into the forest behind the chapel. The police bought it after a few stayed behind to do a quick search and eventually left.

      He told us about the love of Christ and how he died on a cross for our sins so we wouldn’t have to. At first I was shocked at the idea of someone actually caring enough to die for us, seeing as how most people would probably care less if we lived or died if they knew what we were, but my sister and I both accepted Him as our Savior.

      I held the dark silver cross in the palm of my hand and stared at it in wonder. I was still struggling to grasp the idea of a supreme being creating the universe and actually caring enough about us to die for our misdeeds. I just couldn’t seem to wrap my mind around the idea.

      “Trevor, you’re staring at your necklace again,”

      I blinked and snapped out of my thoughts. “Sorry,” I let the cross fall out of my hand and bump against my chest.

      “Come ‘on, let’s get some breakfast,” she said casually and put her long burnet hair in a ponytail and slipped on the last of her bracelets. This time she was wearing her golden metal rings and silver charm bracelets.

      “OK,” I agreed and reached for my glasses with the red lenses. I don’t really like contacts and I needed a way to help me see in broad daylight without going blind so I got a pair of prescription sunglasses. I really liked the red lenses, partially because it’s my favorite color and also because at night I’ll still be able to see alright and also when I’m indoors I doubt anyone will pester me about them or draw unwanted attention. I prefer to keep them on because according to my sister I have two different colored eyes (I just take her word for it, seeing as how I can’t see myself in a mirror, I don’t know why I can’t, it’s one of those traits in our family that remains an unexplainable mystery.) My left eye is supposed to be a bright sky blue while my right is supposed to be a deep crimson, according to my sister. I dunno, my mom’s eyes were a bright sky blue while my dad’s were a deep crimson, so I suppose it was something weird with my genes to make it that way.

      I slipped on my glasses and the world around me became clear and turned some shade of red. It took a little getting used to when I first got them but it’s really no big deal once you get used to seeing everything in shades of red.

      “Hey sis, cover yourself up,” I hassled and held out her purple sweatshirt with the eagle designs. The last thing I need is my sister getting burnt and then drawing attention to ourselves.

      “Oh OK,” she took the sweatshirt from me and slipped it on and zipped it, putting up the hood.

      “Better. Now pack the rest of your things and then we’ll go eat breakfast,”

      “Oh? I thought we were gonna come back to the room after breakfast,”

      “What if a government agent sees us and recognizes us? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t give us a head start to go get our stuff from our room,”

      She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Just give me a minute to brush my teeth,” she rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

      I smiled. What would I do without Madeline? Life would certainly be dull, that’s for sure.

      I reached for my fingerless gloves and wrist bands, slipping on the gloves and buckling the leather wrist bands into place, then reached for my chain and arm bands. I attached the chain to the first two belt loops on my frayed jeans and rolled up my sleeves and buckled my leather arm bands into place.

      Alright, I have a more Goth fashion sense, but what can I say? It looks good. My sister isn’t a real fan of it, but then again I’m not a real fan bright colors and flashy jewelry. Different personalities and tastes, you know?

      I threw the rest of my stuff into my backpack, including some dirty clothes that I would need to wash later, a half-empty bag of Chex Mix and recently opened bag of Twizzlers, and my knife, the closest thing I had to a weapon, though I knew it would do us little good against a group of government agents and their guns, it came in pretty handy when we had to sleep out in the woods or sewers for a night or two.

      The sound of the shower in the bathroom penetrated my ears. I looked up and shrugged. Madeline must be taking a shower, which was probably the smart thing to do, since we had no idea when the next time we would have the option of doing so again would be.

      But while I was waiting...

      I reached into my backpack and pulled out my journal and pressed the pen tip against the page, unsure of exactly what to write.

      I flipped through the pages until I was on the first page, where I had written my first journal entry. I smiled. It had been some years ago when my sister had first suggested the idea to me to write a journal (I’m a bit of an antagonist, and I suppose my sister was sick of hearing it so she made me start writing it all in a journal.)

      It read:

      Dear Journal,

                        OK, so my sister is making me write in this thing because she claims she’s sick of me complaining (which I find pointless since I will also be complaining in here too, but I suppose she is just sick of hearing it.) Anyway, I guess I should start with something about myself...I think. I’ve never written a journal entry before and I’ve never read anyone else’s, so I’m not sure how to start out exactly.

            Um...well, I’m a vampire, and I’m 168 years old, going on 169...um...oh! I’m allergic to garlic, like everyone in my family; my great uncle was the first vampire. He was a count and was super rich; we used to live in his castle until it was burned down by villagers. Most people know him as Dracula. He was named for Vlad III, the 15^th century Romanian prince, who was known to impale people. I find it odd that people gave my uncle this nickname, seeing as how he never actually impaled someone that I knew of. His name means “Son of the Dragon” or “Son of the Devil”, which I also think is odd since, yes, my uncle may have been a bit creepy, but he never practiced black magic or worshipped demons or anything or was really mean to anyone to earn such a nickname. My uncle wasn’t into torturing or killing anyone either, he just didn’t like people was all (or trespassers, he hated them.) My dad said that Uncle Drac used to be human until during his younger years he began to drink the blood of his victims (my uncle was a warrior, don’t you know.) We’re not sure how our family line gained the ability to live forever (I don’t believe we live forever though, I just think we’ll live for a really long time and eventually die of really old age) and then somehow lost the ability to see ourselves in the mirror, but we did. And to help sustain our health we have drink blood to receive extra proteins and nutrients that normal people don’t need. My dad said that also over the years our family line has developed fangs. My uncle didn’t actually have real fangs, just sharp top canine teeth, but somehow over the generations they developed in us and now we have fangs. Some people think that vampires can turn into bats and drink human blood, but we don’t. I mean, how would I turn into a bat? That just doesn’t make sense. We also don’t drink human blood for many reasons. For starters it tastes disgusting and fattening! Gross! I’ve also heard that people think that we have super strength and super speed, and even sparkle in the sun! (Can you believe it?) But the truth is we don’t. It’s just genetics, nothing special. Our family just has really athletic genes in our blood (and yes, vampires have blood and can bleed), so we only seem like we have super strength or speed based off of rumors of drunken men and delusional folks. Why people think we sparkle in the sun is beyond me, but the truth is we don’t sparkle, we burn. It’s a rare skin condition that runs in the family. So no, when we stand out in broad daylight totally exposed we get burned alive, and we certainly don’t “sparkle” in the sense that people think. We don’t have any other special powers besides that. My uncle was really good at convincing people to do what he wanted, so I guess somehow that gave people the idea that vampires can hypnotize you and erase your memory, but we can’t. My mom told us never to tell anyone we were Draculas, but it wasn’t until she was killed by villagers that I knew why. So ever since our parents’ death my sister and I have been on the run. We were captured briefly by the government and experimented on by these scary-looking scientists with these big needles and pushed around by mean guards with guns. They kept us in cages and chained our hands and legs together to we couldn’t get away or fight back. They even put these strange collars around our necks that would shock us if we didn’t do what they wanted. We eventually escaped and have been running from them ever since. We use the money that Uncle Drac left for us in his will to help pay for food and stuff, but we both know that it won’t last forever.

            Sometimes I wish I wasn’t immortal (or could live for a really long time.)

 

      I sighed. I had written that passage over sixteen years ago now and nothing had changed. We were still running from the government and their needle-happy scientists, we were still struggling financially, and people still thought that we can fly, have super strength and speed, sparkle in the sun, and drink human blood. But we don’t. We’re just a couple of teenagers trying to find a place in a world that hates us.

      “OK, I’m done, can we go get some breakfast now?” I jumped slightly and looked up. There was Madeline, was suitcase completely packed and standing with dripping wet hair in a ponytail and her hood up, ready to go.

      “Yeah, sure, we’ll go right now,” I agreed and quickly stuffed my journal into my backpack and zipped it and swung it over my shoulder. I forced my feet into a pair of beaten and worn black sneakers. I suppose I’ll be needing some new ones soon, but it feels like I only got them yesterday (I actually got them twenty years ago, but considering what I’ve put them through I’m a little amazed they’ve survived this long without completely falling apart) but when you’re supposedly “immortal” (living for what seems like forever, but probably isn’t) they haven’t held up for very long. I like them though, but at the same time I feel very poor when I go into public places, especially when I see other people and their nice clothes without rips or tears and frayed jeans or destroyed shoes. Thankfully I’ve seen other teenagers that wear this kind of stuff, so I suppose most people just think it’s a fashion trend, when I guess when you think about it is, but at the same time I would still like to wear something less destroyed or ruined. I hated living like this.

      I adjusted my pack and stood up. “Alright, let’s go,” I sighed and gently pushed passed my sister and to the door. I didn’t have to worry about grabbing my toothbrush; it was already in my pack. I’d brush my teeth on the road. Maybe have a piece of mint gum or something.

      Just as I grabbed hold of the door knob a hand rested on my shoulder and stopped me. I froze and looked down at my destroyed shoes.

      “Come ‘on, what’s wrong?” inquired my sister seriously. She always knew what I was feeling or thinking, sometimes even before I did. I wasn’t very surprised she had caught something amiss now.

      I shrugged. “I dunno, I guess I just wanna stay put for a little while is all...” I replied. I know I must have sounded pitiful but I really didn’t care. I know it was just a rinky dink motel, but it was still nice to sleep in an actual bed for a few nights for a change instead of in the back seats in our minivan.

      She rubbed my shoulder sympathetically. I didn’t have to look at her to know that she was staring at me with those understanding and compassionate eyes.

      I rubbed her hand and clutched it tightly, not wanting her to let go. Her grip tightened. A ghost a smile formed on my face.

      I heard her unzip something and turned to her to see what she was doing. She smiled and held out a small test tube filled with red liquid.

      I took it from her and smiled. “Thanks,” I mumbled gratefully and tore the top off and quickly guzzled up the red liquid and licked my lips happily. According to the label on it it was sheep blood. I mean, I knew it was blood, I just didn’t know it was sheep blood. It tasted alright, wasn’t too bad. I just wish I could have some more of it, but we have to make it last.

      I held the empty vile out to her. She took it from me and carefully put it back in her suitcase. We smiled at each other I turned the knob and we left the room and walked down to the lobby to check out.

      They served free breakfast, which was nice. They had cereal and muffins and even coffee. Madeline had a large bowl of Fruit Loops while I had an espresso and a muffin. We had both discreetly stuffed extra food into our pockets like extra muffins and even a few little packets of sugar for the coffee. We grabbed extra food whenever we could. We didn’t always know when or where our next meal was coming from, so sometimes we had to resort to taking extra food. Ever since we got saved we tried to avoid stealing from stores and people’s pantries, and things seem to work out for us, but right now I suppose there’s nothing wrong with taking a little extra right? I mean, the food’s free after all.

      OK, I felt rather low for taking the extra muffins, but what am I supposed to do? My sister and I both need to eat and I’m running out of money to pay for it. I guess that I’m just holding onto the hope that somewhere out there and that there is a God that cares for us and will provide for us. Because at this point my pockets are empty and my wallet is uncomfortably light, and I don’t want my meals to be in some prison or government facility somewhere. I don’t think I could bear to see my sister in a place that like again. It was horrible and we were both so scared...

      I shook my head to clear away the awful memories and stepped up to the desk and checked out and finally headed towards the door and to our van.

      Halfway across the parking lot a short old lady with puffy snow white hair stopped us. She grabbed hold of my arm and smiled kindly at me and reached into her purse and put a piece of paper in my hand. She carefully made me wrap my fingers around it and patted my hand tenderly.

      “Something tells me you need this more than I do,” she croaked and smiled warmly at us before turning and continued towards the motel. I looked on at her in both awe and pity. She needed a walker and appeared to be on her own. At least I was still young (well, sort of, I was no doubt older than her but had the body of someone much younger) and I had my sister.

      “Thank you!” I shouted to her, a little unsure of what else to do.

      She paused and turned to me and smiled a toothless grin before continuing forward to the motel.

      I smiled slightly and kept walking.

      We climbed into the faded purple van and made ourselves as comfortable as we could. I climbed into the driver’s seat while Madeline took shotgun. Thankfully all the windows were tinted a dark enough shade that we wouldn’t get burnt to a crisp while we were driving, which was one of the reasons we picked this vehicles out in the first place, along with the fact that it was cheap and if we had to leave it behind for some reason it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

      We drove out of the parking lot and onto the open road, arguing about where we should go next. I found out later on the drive that the piece of paper that the old woman had put in my hand was a fifty dollar bill. I could hardly believe it! Fifty dollars! I suppose God really was watching out for us.

      We drove all day and into the night. We switched at about 4:00 p.m. and Madeline took the wheel while I slept in the back seat on the floor with a couple of old blankets and a worn and torn pillow. I had never really gotten used to sleeping at night and being awake during the day, so it felt really weird now, it was dark out and here I was about to go to sleep. But, I suppose I had to. I did have to sleep at some point.

      Surprisingly it didn’t take long for me to drift off...

*****

      “Trevor, Trevor please, wake up,” my body was sudden rocked rather violently. I groaned loudly and tried to cover my head with a blanket.

      “Trevor, not now, please, get up!” the blanket was torn off of me and thrown aside. I groaned even louder and recoiled into a ball.

      “Trevor!” I was shaken even harder, so hard I hit my head against the floor. I groaned and sat up slightly, still groggy from sleep. Staring at me was Madeline, her lavender eyes wide with terror and her face was stained with tears. Her whole body was shaking and small locks of her hair fell over her face,

      “Trevor, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to go over the speed limit and get stopped by the cops! Honest! What if they recognize us and take us to prison? Oh Trevor, I’m so, so sorry-“she blubbered and grabbed hold of my shirt and wept bitterly into my chest.

      I fell backwards slightly at the unexpected contact. I wrapped her in a hug and rocked her gently; trying to calm her down, gently shushing her and telling her it was going to be alright. But she continued to weep and weep bitterly, as if it were the end of the world or as if we would never see each other again.

      “Madeline, relax, I’ll take care of it, OK? We’re not going to prison, alright? I promise we’ll be fine, OK?” I lifted her chin to meet my eyes. She locked gazes with me, staring up with shining lavender eyes and for a moment neither of us spoke or moved or even dared to breath. She nodded and wiped her face with her wrist. I handed her a tissue and she blew her nose loudly. I told her to lie down and pretend she was sleeping and stay very quiet. She nodded and obeyed, laying down on the ground and wrapping a blanket over herself. She let out a loud sniff before falling silent, pretending to be asleep.

      I smiled at her before climbing into the driver’s seat and buckling my seat belt. My heart raced with dread and panic as my mind began to conjure up my own fears. What if they really did recognize us? What if they really did take us to prison? Or turn us over to the government?

      Someone tapped on the window. I jumped before turning and quickly opening the window. Staring at me with tired eyes was a tall police officer with a thinning red mustache and glasses.

      “Young man, did you know you were going over the speed limit?” his tone was not unkind but I guess I was so worked up it made me nervous anyway.

      “S-Sorry, sir. I suppose I’m more t-tired than I thought,” I covered and smiled a little too nervously.

      “Mm-hm, well I’ll let you off with a warning for now, you seem like a nice enough kid, just make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright?”

      “Y-Yes sir,” I agreed and nodded a little too quickly.

      He smiled pleasantly and turned to leave. Just as I had closed the window and breathed a sigh of relief another police officer, this one was shorter and appeared to have black hair, came and tapped on the window.

      My heart seized up with terror. It was a different officer this time. I could feel my hands shaking. I just hope he didn’t suspect who we were and had come to confirm it.

      I rolled down the window and smiled the most pleasant smile I could muster in my state.

      “Excuse me sir, we’re just doing a routine check here, but your name isn’t Trevor Draggun, is it?”

      I swear my heart skipped three beats. I couldn’t breathe. They might be on to us. But then again he said it was a routine check, which meant he did it to everyone he stopped. Maybe if I just stayed calm and pretended nothing was wrong maybe we could just drive away and they’d never suspect a thing.

      “N-N-No,” I lied. My whole body trembled slightly now.

      He stared up at me with a raised eyebrow and flipped a page on his clipboard and suddenly his face grew serious as he stared intently at whatever was on the page. He looked up at me and then back at the page and then back at me. He closed the clipboard and adjusted his belt.

      “Son, I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle for a moment,” he ordered calmly.

      My breathing quickened. They were onto us.

      I slowly opened the door and stepped out and slammed the door shut behind me. Inside my sweatshirt pockets my hands clenched and unclenched nervously. I wasn’t ready to go to prison.

      “Sir, I need you to take off you sweatshirt,” stated the short cop calmly as he jotted something down on his clipboard.

      Oh dear Lord, if you’re really there help me now. I begged. I had never felt so scared before in my entire life.

      I gulped and slowly pulled off my sweatshirt. Thankfully it was long after dark so I wouldn’t have to worry about being burned alive, but still. The air was chilly and the wind nipped at my skin. Deep down a tiny part of me wanted to cry. I didn’t want to go to prison. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in a cage wearing a collar and being tied up with chains.

      The two officers examined me carefully, looking over my physique and my attire and my scars from the government facility.

      The short cop looked from his clipboard to me and back or what seemed like eternity. Perspiration dripped down my face and my heart rate soared.

      The short cop sighed and lowered his clipboard and turned to me with rather hostile eyes. “Mr. Draggun, put your hands on your head and slowly step towards the police cruiser,”

      I started to tremble slightly. Oh no...They know who I am.

      I gulped and took a step backwards in fear. I didn’t want to go to prison or a government lab. I didn’t want to spend my life in chains and living in a cage, I just didn’t want to.

      The tall officer pulled out his handgun and pointed it at me. “Mr. Draggun, I recommend you do as we say and put your hands on your head and walk slowly to the car,” his voice was much sterner and his eyes were cold and his face was stony.

      I gulped and started to hyperventilate, but I did as I was told and with trembling hands placed them on top of my head.

      I shook my head with my mouth slightly agape. “Please, I-I don’t wanna go to prison,” I begged, managing to keep my voice partially calm, even though it trembled with fear of the imminent.

      “Well that’s for the judge and the jury to decide, now get to the car,” barked the short officer and pushed me roughly (though not very hard) towards the police cruiser.

      I shook my head as I was pushed forward by the first officer with the red mustache. “No please, y-you don’t understand, they’re gonn-“I began but was thrust forward by the officer. He grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me forward to the cruiser.

      “You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Draggun, now put your head against the hood,” he ordered and shot me a hostile glare.

      “No please, you have to believe me, I’m not a criminal, I just-“

      “Put your head against the hood!” he barked and pushed the barrel of his gun into my back. I silenced myself and slammed my head against hood as he gave me a pat-down, searching for weapons no doubt. He wouldn’t find any though, my only defense was hidden away in my backpack, and it wouldn’t do me much good now anyway.

      He grabbed my wrists and started handcuffing them behind my back. I swear I heard my heart crack when the cuffs were locked into place. The metal was cold and stiff. I couldn’t move my hands.

      He pulled me up by the back of my shirt again and led me to the backseat of the cruiser and opened the door. That scene was like the gate of hell opening up before me, threatening to devour me if I got too close.

      He gently but forcefully pushed my forward into the opening. “Watch your head,” he warned and forced me into the seat. I ducked and plopped down and flinched when he slammed the door.

      What was I going to do? I was in the back of a police cruiser in handcuffs, awaiting a life of electric collars, chains, cages, horrific experiments, and brutal beatings and Madeline, who would take care of...

      I gasped when I remembered Madeline. They’d find her for sure. No, I couldn’t let them take her. If I was going down I couldn’t let them take her down with me.

      “NO!!” I screamed and began to writhe and kick at the seat and window violently, hoping to capture their attention long enough for Madeline to get away, but as I peered outside I realized I was already too late. There she was with her hands behind her back and struggling furtively against the officers. Seeing her look so terrified nearly broke my heart. They forced her down onto the hood of the car and patted her down. I only wish I could do something about it, but I knew that there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop them. They thrust her into the seat next to me a minute later and locked the doctor. She was gasping and crying and trembling. I couldn’t stand to see her like this.

      “Madeline, hey,” she looked up at me with frightened lavender and red eyes full of fear. I swear I heard my heart crack again.

      “Everything’s going to be alright, I promise, hey,” I whispered reassuringly, even though I didn’t know if we would be alright. In fact, I was almost certain that hell itself was waiting for us.

      She locked eyes with me for a brief moment with a trembling lip before burst into tears and bitter sobs and collapsed against my chest in a weeping mess.

      I tried my best to comfort her with my hands tied behind my back. I sung an old lullaby mom would always sing to us before we went to sleep or whenever we were scared it helped calm her down a little.

      More cruisers showed up at the scene and began to shift through our van and dug into our bags. They found our blood rations and my sister’s jewelry and my dagger and sketchpad and journal. I felt as if something that day had died inside of me.

      It wasn’t until an hour later that the two officers from before they climbed in the front seats and started the car. Madeline had drifted to sleep for a short while and began to stir when we turned back onto the road and drove forward.

      “W-Where are we going?” I asked, my voice quavered at the end.

      “From your standpoint, Home,” replied the short cop.

      My heart seized with utter terror. They were taking us back to hell on earth.

Author's Note

I post these practice writings every two weeks. Let me know if you have any requests.