The scream rang in my ears. Raucous coughs racked my body. I was only mildly aware of the two shadows leaping to the tent. It trembled as I saw the boy unzip the entrance hastily. I imagined a snarl at the back their throats, ready to set their hands and paws on me. . " What the hell, woman, why did you scream?" An angry whisper tore from the lips of the boy. His face, I could decipher in the darkness, was contorted, teeth gritted. I felt a caloused hand cover my mouth and a vice-like grip on my elbow. That's when I felt it. Frustration. Frustrated that I could not escape in two dire situations . Frustrated because I was the mouse being played at. Frustrated of being afraid. It flared in my chest, seized my being, shook me o my senses. Hatred for myself and everything else on the goddamn planet writhed like a snake, sinking its incisored teeth into my heart , the poison spreading like a virus in my veins. I snapped my eyes to him, glared at him fiercely. Now that snarl was rising at the back of my own throat, and the next moment I was biting his hand, tasting bitter blood in my mouth. Hollers of curses filled my world, and suddenly I was thrown back, daggers of light piercing my already pounding head. I was breathing rapidly, a sharp pain at the side of my stomach. Curses and swearwords, dirty, filthy, so filthy that it was appalling to ever be spoken. The curses fired and attacked me, the words soaked in fiery rage. They were like batons and clubs beating me to no end.
Clutching my head, fingers buried under tousled hair, I tried standing up, but I only managed a stagger before I fell to the floor. In my blurred vision, I saw the boy, partially recovered from the pain. The craziness emerged in his eyes, feeding the temptation to wring my neck. I could imagine the spittle flying from his mouth as he swore savagely. For a moment I thought of running, but my shaky, unsteady legs could not carry out the task. Those trembling arms, emanating the insane urge to kill. The rapid, hoarse muttering of swear words were like minute scrawls that were scratching indiscreetly in the air, inappropriate to the ears.
It was accompanied by the commanding tone of another boy's voice," Pull her out, Drake, pull her out. We'll need that duct tape so she won't scream again. I'll get the rope." The wolf bounded out of the tent.
The boy swivelled his head back to me. His jowls aquiver, hands balled tightly into fists, as if it withheld and restrained the anger he felt.
I could sense words wanting to explode and chase after the wolf, but he crammed it in, the trembling, cracked lips rusty clasps to a shaking chest, as if it contained a mostrous creature that destroyed and harmed. But he held his tongue, letting the words burn in his mouth, the glistening drop of sweat ever so so irritating on his brow. I thought he would keep on holding it in, hold it in until the impulse died long gone. I was evidently wrong. Quickly, he unclenched his fists and swung a slap at me. It was as if a bolt of lightning struck me. My cheek stung painfully, my brain ready to break out from my skull. The pain was hammering my head, threatening to blow up. I cried out. I was vaguely aware of the boy scooping me up out of the dark tent. I remembered being lightly set down like a feather on the rough hardness of a leather seat, the duct tape suddenly stuck to my mouth.
" Drake, here," whispered the wolf. But he was no longer a wolf. A boy, 17 years or older, was standing on the opposite side of the fire , a bundle of ropes in his hand. He tossed it to the boy, Drake. All too soon I could feel the prickly, rough bristles of the ropes cruelly scratch my wrists. I saw the other boy make his way towards me, the leaves rustling as his steps. He scrutinised me, and noticed the scarlet red cheek.
" You shouldn't have slapped her," a dangerous tone, prominent in his whisper.
" It was necessary," Drake claimed.
' It was not,".
" Oh yes it was," Drake argued.
" She was already dazed, you didn't need to,"there was a new tautness in his voice, lousily concealing the urge to snap like an enraged animal. Nevertheless, he held it in faster and much more effectively than Drake. Almost all the anger dissipated from his entire being. He returned back to his subject: me. His shadow loomed over, as if hinting my doom. He examined me. I could feel the weight of his uncomfortable gaze, probing me. irt, faintly smeared on his pale sweaty face. His eyes a little bewildered. No. not bewildered. A little........
Wild.
He twitched, fidgeted ever so slightly, as if a body function was malfunctioning. Those few moments of heavy study was like a surgery, his eyes a curious knife poking every part of my body. Those seconds felt like an eternity. I waited with bated breath for him to speak, yell, mutter. hit , move.
Speak
Yell
Hit
Move
The images played like a broken tape recorder in ym head..............