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"Where am I going?" Fear sinks in, and for a second, I wish Malik was here. Would he protect me? I want to laugh at the thought. Of course, he wouldn't. He'd never protect me. He'd probably lift me in his arms and help carry me to whatever torture chamber they want to bring me to.
"You'll see." Sister Mary retracts her hand, squeezing them together. Her skin turns a sickly white, and I frown at it.
"I'm not going anywhere. I want to talk to my mom." Surely, she wouldn't let me go anywhere I didn't want to, right? She wouldn't be okay with this shit.
Sister Mary shakes her head. "No, dear. Now come, follow me."
In a split-second decision, I bend down, grabbing the strap of my backpack and make a run for it. My boots squeak along the bathroom tile as my toes punch the ground. Arms, stronger than they should be, wrap around my elbows and haul me back.
"I'm not fucking going!" I scream.
What feels like a ruler lashes against my back, thick and heavy and so fucking strong as it whacks my skin.
My back arches, sharp stinging spreading from my waist to my shoulder blades. I whimper, the pain so bad my fight gives out. They lift me, pulling me from the bathroom and dragging me down the hall. I attempt to get out of their hold, but they walk too fast, and I can't catch my footing. My toes catch the ground every few seconds until I stumble, the tops of my boots trailing along the tile floor.
They pull me upright, and a door is opened. They toss me in, their arms swinging back and letting go of me on the swing forward. I tumble to the ground, my hand instantly going to my lower back. It feels like the lashing ripped through skin. My shirt feels dry, so I don't think so, but it hurts. Really bad.
I scramble to my knees, seeing both the sisters standing in the doorway, the only bit of light I can see from in here.
"Please. I'm sorry." I'm not, not really. But I don't want to be here. Wherever here is.
"You should learn quickly how things are done here. We aren't like other schools, no. But here you are, and our rules, you will listen to. If not, well, you'll be getting acquainted with The Room of Atonement rather quickly," Sister Mary says. The smallest smirk is on her face, a lick of maliciousness rimmed around her eyes. The darkness in the room casts her mouth in shadows, and it looks like her teeth are rotting away.
She looks positively frightening.
With that, they shut the door, encasing me in pitch darkness.
My blood turns cold, along with my skin and my bones. I let out a shaky breath, leaping to my feet, running to the door. My hand searches for the handle. I can't see anything, not even my own body.
"Hello?" I scream.
My hands search the door from top to bottom. It's cold, smooth. It feels thick and heavy against my palm. No window, and searching every inch of the door, no knob either.
My fingers skate around the trim, my nails digging in the crack, but it’s no use. This door is sealed and sealed tightly.
"Hello!?" I cry out, my fists pounding as hard as they can. They ache, but I keep going, hoping for someone, even an enemy, to help me.
Even Malik.
"Please! I'm trapped in here! Someone help me!" Tears spring to my eyes, and I'm not someone who cries often. Not out of sadness, and not out of frustration.
But this feeling in my stomach, it's one of hopelessness and utter fear.
I feel a brushing along the back of my neck, like someone lifted my hair and grazed their fingers along my goosebumps-ridden skin.
I fly back around, seeing only darkness. "Who's there?"
Not a noise. Nothing.
But I feel something. I feel so much of something.
I breathe out, feeling like the air in the room drops twenty degrees.
"Hello?" I mumble, barely audible.
Nothing.
I walk along the wall, feeling for something, anything to help get me out of this hell. The moment I get out of here, I'm telling my mom. She's going to get me the fuck out of here, and I'm never coming back.
