The Pretty Poison

.PART 4 - The In-Between: Attempt

.PART 4 - The In-Between: Attempt

The girl with hazel eyes sits alone on the bed. She doesn’t remember how she came to be sitting here, only that she is dammed to be here forevermore. Sunrays pour in from the barred window, casting stripes on the painted door to the girl’s left. The blandness of the room blurs in the corners of her vision and the light makes everything seem less clear. With all the blue-hues and deceiving brightness, some would believe this to be Heaven. The girl, however, thinks it to be purgatory; the In-Between where lost souls are left to disintegrate in time.

The door opens beside her though she registers none of it. In walks one of the reasons of leaving her old life. Her mother sighs, looking to her daughter's bubbled and seared skin. She is responsible for condemning the girl but never would she take back her choice. An expressionless face is the only look the prisoner can give. She sees but cannot comprehend, she hears the loving words but does not understand, the girl is the woman’s child but no longer her daughter.

Time speeds and the two are outside in the hall. She looks behind, watching the room she just left shrink in size as she steps farther away. Across the hall, the girl with dark skin stares at her with remorse. As always, her effortless beauty conceals the mix of emotions raging behind her dark brown eyes. She waves with a sorrowful smile and blows a kiss to her best friend. The two are forever connected, both stuck from the same curse. With a yank to her burned arm, her only true friend disappears around a corner.

Emotions build in her throat at the circumstances. Why me? she asks herself. She is left with little time to ponder on the thought. As soon as she reaches the room, the girl comes face to face with the strange, redheaded woman.

The woman’s hair is drawn back into a severe ponytail with its ends frizzing every which way, giving her a graceful yet earthy quality. Like a nymph, the girl thinks. Her small chuckle disappears when the woman’s expression remains stern and impassive. She differs from a savage beauty; this woman comes across more threatening.

“Mhmm-mm mhmm, Mhmmm.” Though the nymph’s lips move clearly, the young girl strains to listen to the jumbled words. Only the hum of muted noise escapes. It’s as though the words are heard but not recognized, said clearly but not understood.

Knowing the young girl is paying no mind to her cautions, the woman leans down slowly but dominantly. Her eyes peer with cruel intensity into the younger hazel ones and the stare becomes too much for the child. It's too intense. The woman feels too powerfuland the twitch of anxiousness shivers the girl’s bones. Fear rattles in her skull, scraping at the walls of the tortured mind. Her breath gets shallower, making her eyes water and lightening the weight in her brain. Walls around her are made for running and her feet feel the pressure her mind throws at them.

Run, her thoughts whisper. Now!

Her arm is ripped from her mother’s grip as she dashes away. Blood pumps through her veins, beating louder and faster with every stride. She can here the strange woman yell for her henchmen to go after her. At least that’s what she thinks has been said. The hums have yet to cease in her ears.

Time itself warps, feeling like the fall into the depths of the ocean: deadly slow and every movement puts its victim further from the light. Frightened voices scream to her, begging to come with. They want to leave the purgatory but no one will save them. A look down the hallway and she sees their bone-thin bodies made up that way from neglect. The pause only lets her new pursuers gain distance to her. With selfish burdens to bear, she runs as her heart breaks beneath her chest. She has to escape before it’s too late and there is no hope for them.

Hair whips into her face, blocking the path before her. The pressure pushes against her, forcing every muscle to feel as though it is moving against its will. She wants to move faster, begging her body to not give out on her now. But the air won’t let her prevail. It’s too strong against her numbing limbs.

The girl turns down a hall, almost sliding on the overly smooth floors. The reflection of the light upon the floor narrows her eyes as she passes rooms and rooms of staring prisoners. They want to see the commotion and join its riot-inducing craze. She can feel their pleas and hear their squeals. Every turn there is someone to grab her and every one of their faces are twisted in determination.

A set of distorted, heavy doors appear before her. Her only means of escape takes her breath in a joy she hardly ever feels. This could be her day. Hope and anticipation swell as she trashes her way through unsuspecting people, shoving them toward her chasers. The girl doesn’t wish them harm but her freedom is at stake.

The handle on the door chills her fingers as she tries to twist it. Over and over she pushes and pulls, shaking it with desperation. It does nothing but make a clunking noise as the nymph’s henchmen draw closer. Ghosts from the other side cast sympathetic faces but stay where they are. They leave her to her own fate, her own damnation.

Suddenly, she feels the meaty hands of the men pull her back and force her to the floor. Her burned arms are pinned but still she struggles for release. Her legs thrash while she shouts and begs for help from the ones she would have left behind. Ignoring her cries, a black haired woman hurries closer and mumbles something to the men who keep the girl steady. A sharp pain to the back of her neck makes everything less focused for the escapee. The young girl begins to feel less and less as the weights of her arms grow heavier.

“No,” she cries. Her sobs barely break the hush of the prison as her nose presses into the floor. This is the end for her. With no escape from this point on, her soul is condemned to this purgatory.

“No,” she repeats more forcefully. Her head lifts with her last ounces of strength and she screams with a bloodthirsty vengeance to her captors, making the strongest of the group flinch from intimidation. “NO!”

The angered cry morphs into a fearful one, erupting from her throat and burning her lungs enough to wake her. Pretty Poison sits up in her small trailer, breathing heavily and feeling incredibly frightened. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she tries to slow her gasping lungs enough to remember where she is.

Her eyes wander around the cramped and dusty room, relieved to see her disorderly things. The costume trailer never felt safer. Most importantly to her, this time she remembers how she came to be there.