Page 28 of Petals of Blue: Part Two
Death feels inevitable if I stay here any longer. Whether that be by his nasty fucking hands or the elements, I don't care because none of them are an option.
Unfortunately, my weak, chilled body disagrees. Lying down sounds pretty great right now. But I can't.
I hate the back and forth I'm struggling with. Sometimes I don't want to attempt survival. Other times I'm pissed at myself for not even trying. It's as if being stuck here has forced my demons out of their hiding places.
I've done a great job of hiding my insecurities and turmoil over the years, but I'm stuck with no distractions now. My fight for survival is my own, and unfortunately, there are quite a few voices in my head that keep telling me to give up. That everyone would be better off without me.
But...those voices that tell the intrusive ones to shut the fuck up are hard to ignore. I hear Violet begging me to help her choose a wedding dress in the future. Then Jared begging me to help him set up his classroom next year, and Declan forcing me to taste test a new latte. Maybe Roman wondering if I want to help teach young girls self-defense. And Felix grumbling at me to look both ways as I cross the street for our date.
There's a whole future I could have with some of the most basic situations that I would miss out on if I didn't just fucking try. So here I am, trying to gather all the little bits of motivation to get on with my escape.
The blanket and I have come to a truce. I may have whispered an incoherent apology to it before I wrapped it around my shoulders. Being mad at a scrap of fabric for not allowing me to die in my sleep was a bit ridiculous. Now it's warming up my arms and hands so I can put them to use.
"You're not very thick," I mumble to it as I rub my hands up and down my arms. "But I s-still like you."
A delirious eye roll follows my statement.Christ, I need to get out of here. I'm talking to a blanket like it's my friend.
"One more minute," I declare, and start counting down from sixty. My eyes begin to droop around forty, making me jolt and curse myself for almost falling asleep.
Blowing out a breath, my lips vibrate together, sending tingles through my chilly cheeks. "Okay..." My pale fingers pull the blanket from my shoulders as I apologize to it for what I'm about to do.
On my knees, I shimmy toward the small hole and wrap my hands in my blanket.Yes, it's mine now. Maybe Bethany can stitch some of the holes and make it pretty again.
Shaking my head, I dislodge my wayward thoughts and grip the splintering board. The blanket blocks most of the sharp parts, and thankfully, the wood seems to be decaying enough that it crumbles beneath my hold.
"Shit," I huff when a sharp pain shoots through my skull. Ignoring my obvious concussion has been hard, but there's nothing I can do about it now, so I grunt and push through the discomfort.
Nausea crawls up my throat as I bend, but I swallow it down and yank as hard as I can. Nothing. "Motherfucker," I growl and bunch my muscles in preparation for another pull.
A stab of pain radiates through my pointer finger, and I use it to spur me on. With gritted teeth, I put allmy body weight into ripping up this fucking board. Knees braced, hands screaming, I pull.
Shock and fear rip a short scream out of me as I'm flung back. A dull thud sounds as I land on my back with a pained grunt. "Fuck," I hiss and roll to my side. Propping myself up seems like a lot of work, but excitement quickly replaces exhaustion as I scramble to see how big the hole is now.
"You are literally fucking r-rotting!" I whisper-scream at the still small hole. I may have removed an inch of the floorboard, which crumbled into moldy ick. "Just—" Bare handed I claw at the damn hole. "Fucking—" I rip shards of wood away, gaining ground and raising my blood pressure. "DIE!"
Keep going, keep going. Ignore the pain. Just keep fucking fighting!
Red stains the board, but seeing the progress I'm making blinds me to the fact that I'm literally ripping my hands open one splinter at a time.Just keep going.Sad humor fills me with a wobbly chuckle as I begin singing "Just keep swimming!" over and over again.
The feral moment stretches and warps until I feel like I'm floating above myself. Dirt-streaked face, disgusting pants, and ratted hair stand out, but looking closer, you can see the gauntness of my cheekbones and tears dripping from my chin. Beyond the desolation that is my face, my hands are bloody, and the hole in the floor tests what little strength I have left.
I'm shocked I haven't collapsed.
The most eerie thing about this out-of-body experience is the singing. Quoting a kid’s movie while in thissituation just screamsI need food and water!If anyone were to walk in on me right now, they would probably lock me up.
Anywhere would be better than here. And in about one minute, that fact will slap me right in the face.
Twenty-Two
ROMAN
There's not much else to say, and yet my friends think beating around the same bush is helpful. I'm trying to be grateful that the yelling has basically stopped, but how many times do we have to play the blame game?
Blue going missing is nobody's fault besides the bastard who took her. I feel like we did everything in our power and knowledge to support Blue and begin rebuilding trust. Violet is young, and social media douchebags are normal in her line of business, so I understand her just ignoring the issue.
I feel really fucking bad that this learning experience is so traumatic for her, though. There are always going to be opportunities for growth, but the fact that Violet's current one is life or death for the person she loves most in the world is super fucked up.
"Does he have to come?" Jared grumbles, pulling me from my thoughts.
