I Dont Remeber...

I Don’t Remember…

It was dark. That’s the only way to describe the cold, isolated room that I was in now. The only light was a small tear in the newspaper that covered the windows. I don’t remember how I got here or how the ropes got around me so tightly, it was hard to breathe. I also don’t remember not being able to speak; the tape was muffling my words. I wanted to scream and kick my feet but all stopped me from that. But I could cry and try to remember…but it came out blank…there was nothing to remember…it was blank. There was nothing in my memory but black. Who was I?

It was storming, covering our yells which only made us scream over the roar of thunder and pounds of rain. “You are too young to be drinking! At school even, Cheyenne! What were you thinking?” My fragile looking mother yelled. Her blonde hair was coming out of her bun and her violet eyes were looking at me with disappointment.
I was almost proud that she wasn’t acting like she has been since she married my step father, Grant. Always pretending to be so perfect and calm like she was one of the moms from Pleasantville. I hated her. I hated that I looked just like her. I hated that she wasn’t my mother anymore. I hated she gave up her family and her love for painting, all for this stupid guy who she didn’t really know. Who tricked her into loving him and trusting him and marrying him. Well, I knew the real him. I knew all the crap he was into and I knew all of the names of the girls he snuck around with but mom was too ignorant to listen to him. She wasn’t as smart as she was anymore, my mother was gone.
“I was thinking what I told them! They’re arrogant asses!”
“Watch your mouth young lady!” Grant piped in. I glared at his greased back black hair and his cold brown eyes. I wanted to slap the skinny lawyer in the face. Who was he to tell me what to do? He wasn’t my father and I made sure that he remembered that.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” I snapped at him, slapping his hand away from me as he grabbed for my shoulder. He glared at me and put his arms around my mother. I lifted my upper lip in disgust as I watched him put his filthy hands on my mother and my anger lifted beyond my controlling level. “DON’T TOUCH HER!”
He looked at me and then to my mother sweetly. “She’s out of control, Lydia. She pushed her teacher into her principal. She needs help. I love our daughter just-“
“You don’t love me and im not your daughter, you lying cad!”
He frowned. “Cheyenne-“
“CHEY!” I corrected spitefully.
He sighed and clenched his teeth together in impatience and his eyes closed, trying to control his temper. Oh, and he had a temper. Mom didn’t know it but he hit me and my little brother, Jackson, all the time when mom wasn’t home. Then his eyes opened in slits as he glared at me with pure hatred. “Listen, you are nothing more than a little punk who deserves to get the hell knocked out of her and what I’ve heard around town you’re becoming a little slut too!”
That’s when I snapped, my fist balled up and before I knew it swung right into Grant’s nose. I heard a crack and he turned away with cry of pain. He grabbed his nose and turned back to me. I could see blood seeping through the cracks in his hands then in a flash his hand snapped against my face. I gasped and landed hard on the ground. I looked up and my violet eyes looked into his then I stood up and before I ran up to my room I looked more deeply into his eyes and said the words that I knew he would understand and I knew would scare the hell out of him. “I know everything and soon so will mom and everyone else in town, especially the cops.” I pivoted on my feet and ran up the stairs to my room. I knew how the scene looked from downstairs without being there; Jackson was watching from a crack in the door, mom was looking up at Grant in confusion and wonder over what I had said and what made me sick is I knew she still trusted the criminal, and Grant was mad as hell.
I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, I didn’t know how Grant was going to keep me from talking…until now. It was that night when they were all asleep. It was precisely 4:53 in the morning as I opened my window and slid out from on my stomach, planting my feet securely in the square holes of the lattice that leaned under her window, scrunching the purple flowers that grew on the vine that laced through the holes. My hands left the window seal and onto the lattice then I quietly climbed down, my backpack held clothes and things that my father had left me. My keys were in my jacket pocket and I had a map that would guide me to my Aunt Shirley’s house, my father’s sister. I jumped down onto the damp grass and pulled my hood up, the lightning was striking pinks and purples in the sky and thunder rolled beneath her feet, the rain was coming down hard on my face as I looked up at it. I looked back in front of me at the dark road that seemed to glow from being wet with rain. I took a deep breath, boosting myself to move forward with a dose of adrenaline, it’s all I needed. I started running to my car, but as I got close I stopped in my tracks. Both of my tires on the right side were flat and I didn’t need to go to the other side to know that the other two were flat as well. I growled and whirled around, flipping off were my mom and Grant’s bedroom was and then I started running, as fast as I could to the only person I trusted to get me where I wanted to go, Landon.
I have always hated how far Landon lived, he moved out of his house and into an apartment in the city the second he turned eighteen, that was about five months ago. I sighed in frustration and sped up, that’s when I heard the noises. I stopped in my tracks, stupid move number one. Then I took looked around, mistake number three. I heard chuckles now and I whirled around only to see a lonely bench and a dim street light, then the light suddenly went dark and I could only see the silhouette of the trees around me and the bench of the city park, I had chosen to go the short way to get to Landon’s which was through the park that was separated from the busy city; mistake number three. I moaned hopelessly as the sounds of feet got closer, I turned as a heard another noise and that’s when a hard object hit my face and then the world faded into black.

i like it...keep going and post more!!

oh i forgot to post the update

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It was the sound of footsteps that woke me and my eyes opened wider, though I knew that it wouldn’t do any good, but I did see movement and as they stepped forward the light showed a shadowed image of the guys face. He was bald and his eyes were pale blue, they seemed to be filled with cruelty and I knew he was bad. I didn’t know him. Which I couldn’t even remember me, so how would I know him? I gulped and it hurt my throat to do this, I was thirsty. I closed my eyes hard then opened them again. Everything was fuzzy and I suddenly realized the horrible headache that pulsed at my forehead. My hair felt slightly crusted but wet, and that feel seemed to trail down my face, on my hairline was where the pain was pulsating most. It hurt really to move that side of my face but I my eye wanted to close even if the pain protested. I whimpered as I looked back up at the guy. He chuckled. A movement of his head informed me that he was raising his hand; I thought he was going to grab for me but instead he pulled on a string that I had not seen and with a click a dim light shone down on the dark…basement…I was in a basement. He kneeled down in front of me and seemed to study me. I was lying on the cold stone floor of the basement, wrapped tightly in the rough hairs of a rope and I was positive that I looked afraid and helpless. That was how I felt anyways. I was looking around when he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him, I gasped because the sharp way he moved my head made it ache. His face came in an out of the light as the light bulb above us swung loosely from the ceiling of the basement. “Hey there princess, are you thirsty?”
I gulped again at my dry throat, it felt like sandpaper. “Yes.” The raspy voice shocked me, was that my voice?
He grinned devilishly, that’s the only way to describe it. “Let me get you something.”
I nodded as he released my face; I scooted back away from him to the wall and managed myself into a sitting position, which was tuff with the ropes tied from my breast to my bit past my knees. I leaned my head back and shivered. It was cold. Every movement hurt me; the ropes seemed to graze roughly against my skin with the slightest shift, pricking me in every inch of my body. I clenched my teeth to stop them from chattering. The guy stood up from his kneeling position and spoke deeply down at me; “Grant was right, you sure are pretty.”
I blinked in confusion. I didn’t know what he was talking about. Was I pretty? I can’t remember. Who was Grant? Was I supposed to remember? What happened to me? Why can’t I remember? I coughed to clear my throat then stared up at him, blinking again to clear my vision. “Who…Who is Grant?”
He raised a brow at me as if what I had asked should be obvious, then he frowned at the spot were the crusty/wet pain was and turned around-without answering my question-and walked up the stairs into what looked like a kitchen. I groaned and leaned my head back against the stone wall again, I felt so weak; though the pain was starting to fade.