Yeah, Write... Chapter 4

Here we are with the fourth chapter of our story. This has turned out to be a very fun game and I thank you all very much for playing and reading! Thanks to Polly for writing this week's chapter and also for giving our characters names and bringing things some closure! You did an amazing job, as did Ginny and Maria! I thought it might go on past here, but once I read it, I decided I like this as an ending. So, enjoy this, the final chapter of our game! :)

If you're just joining us, click here for chapter 1.... chapter 2.... and chapter 3. :)



The sense of terror might not have come to anyone else that looked through that door, but I had always had an unnatural aversion to them. Only now, with so many before me, did I realize that this was beyond personal preference.

Lucy, my best friend in second grade, who showed me jump rope rhymes and handclap games, was the first victim of my relationship with them. Her Max always sought me out, his hateful and hurtful eyes glowering. I postponed and curtailed my visits with her, and because I could feel him near her when she visited me, asked her over less often. I lost my first, and only, true friend in just a few months of Max's arrival. She became a casual acquaintance at school, finding friends who made time for her and trusted her with their secret crushes.

Mrs. Evans, the crazy old lady next door, had a piece of her heart (and probably her sanity) plucked away each time I refused her afternoon tea. I really didn't mind her incessant rambling about her daughter who moved too far for a job, her granddaughter, whose mother forced her to participate in every sport, activity, and community event, her cousin's son-in-law who had an opinion about everything, and scandalous chatter about Mrs. Riley on the corner and her tiff with Mrs. Barker down the street; it was all I could do to nod politely, but mostly because I didn't know what she expected me to say. I assumed she was happy to just do the talking. But after she found Sam and his knowing stare bore through me, I never entered her house again. Even as a child I knew it was wrong for him to react to me so harshly. I didn't understand it, and so, filed it away in the 'inexplicable moments in my life' section of my mind. I will never forget it. It was a look that pierced my mind and soul - stifled my words and choked my breath.

And here I stood staring back at dozens of them. Even without their seeming hatred for me, and I for them, I never understood cats, or their cat people. The sickly sour-sweet overpowering aroma wafting around this man was reason enough. Since I avoided all contact, I never had to experience the hatred that consumed me now. Once again, I was stuck; as much as I told my feet to move, they wouldn't. I angrily met each icy brow, every menacing frown, with a rage that exploded within me. The year that I had spent experiencing Collin's somber intensity, and then his anger, had finally become a part of me. Or had it? Was this his reaction to the threat, or my own? Such intense emotions were new to me, and I realized, as I stared into the faces of malevolence, that something within me was just awakening!

Through the suffocating wave of new emotions and confusion, I heard a small sound. It was door number three, finally! With a loud breath, I instinctively spun with enthusiasm at my reprieve. The face that I saw there brought tears to my eyes; my anger flared and was joined with terror. Panic and horror overcame me as I struggled to breath through pain that this new presence brought. His face flashed a thousand images through my mind with a pain that was so intense I couldn't scream, I couldn't run, I could only watch the slide show playing inside my head.

So this is why I chose this door. Zane. In all his monomaniacal glory. I knew everything in an instant. I had seen him every year for his research, except I had forgotten that until now. Now it was all clear. His project, his testing, his study, his monitoring. Me. Project Me, courtesy of 'Doctor' Zane.

"I've been expecting you. I knew that you would return. It is too much a part of you."
"Nice security," I spat, tossing my head across the hall.
"I knew you'd appreciate it. We have work."

Until this day, this moment, standing before a mad man with venomous stares at my back, I had always felt the strength of others. I gravitated toward them. I needed them to guide me as I blindly fumbled my way through my life. I was doing what they wanted, and now, I was doing what Zane wanted. Even my rebellion was under his control. The helplessness that this knowledge brought fueled new emotions inside me; not just emotions, a new voice. My voice. The intimidation I had felt was washed away with determination, which brought strength and direction.

I didn't need to listen to Zane anymore. I didn't need to listen to my friends, to the dagger thoughts from across the hall, to the 'mom' voice inside, or even Collin. My voice was all I would hear now. Zane was the reason I couldn't hear it before. Now something deep within me awoke.

I thought I knew the meaning of the word, 'relief', but the peace that I settled upon me when I finally felt Collin's presence again overwhelmed me. Peripherally, I saw him, hesitating in the opening of the building. My mental awareness made me understand everything he was thinking and feeling, and a new intensity in my senses caught the whisper of a smile that almost escaped his sedate face. Even after I ran from him, twice, Collin willingly came to my aid. I felt his pride and confidence in me, which is what I had always felt for him. I also felt his fury directed at Zane.

I wanted to destroy Zane. I wanted be sure he would never control me again.

And then I heard a voice. My voice. 'Put your hands in your pockets and walk away.'

And I did. To Collin. Not really to him, but with him. I was walking away from Zane. I was walking away from the fear and pain. I was going with Collin because I knew now that he was right. I had been with him, waiting. Waiting for something great from him, but really, he was the one waiting. Waiting for something great from me. He would allow me to listen to my own voice. He would help me. This is what he was waiting for. I was the one with the answers now.

Yeah, Write... Chapter 3

Welcome to Chapter 3 of our game. Excellent job, Ginny! Next week, we will hear from Polly with the following prompts...

...put your hands in your pockets...

and

...I thought I knew the meaning of the word relief, but...

If you're just joining us, please go here for an explanation. And to get caught up, click here for chapter 1 and chapter 2.

Chapter 3

Despite his encouraging and pleasing reaction, the first step was definitely the easiest. I laboriously worked to put one foot in front of the other as I battled the dichotomous truths before me. Was turning back the right thing to do? I had tried without success to run away, and although going back was proving to be almost as difficult, I was at least able to get my body to respond to the commands from my brain. Each step brought me closer to the threat and security of his presence and I tried to get my mind around the awful truth he had revealed. Where we would go from here? Things would, obviously, never be the same, and yet, I was intrigued at the possibilities that lay ahead. I always believed, at least at some level, that we make this world our own heaven or hell, and with each step I was trying to convince myself that there was a heaven to be found in all of this. As I continued to watch my leaden feet, my shoulders curled in exhaustion and grief, arms hanging limp, swaying like an ape's with the physics of my lumber, I realized that I was muttering aloud in conversation with myself as I contemplated the consequences of going back. I didn't really have the energy to care. It's not like there was anyone around to hear me.

Suddenly I snapped out of the magnetic trance that had been pulling me somewhat reluctantly toward him. Why wasn't there anyone around? Why hadn't even one of the hundreds of cars that had passed us on the highway stopped? Or even slowed down? It was almost as if no one had even seen the smoking car or either one of us looking pathetic and helpless as we sat on the loosening gravel of the shoulder of the road. In the mere seconds it took to have all of those thoughts run through my head, I heard a voice that so clearly sounded like my mother's. It wasn't an actual voice, but one in my mind, and it was perfectly clear as it shouted to my subconscious, "Get out, NOW!

It's amazing the motivation that comes upon hearing your mother's voice yelling at you, real or not. My once curled, sagging shoulders rolled back as my spine straightened. My head whipped up with a determination I never knew I had. As my eyes leveled off from the dramatic motion, I realized I stood just feet in front of him. Our eyes met, and yet didn't. He seemed to be staring through me rather than at me and I could feel that almost magnetic force trying to pull me in again, only I was aware of it this time. An ominous feeling of fear swept over my body and a wave of cold moved through my every limb. My stiff, clammy fingers moved up to my cheek where I could now feel the outline of the two black marks. His gaze didn't abate in the slightest. I turned my emancipated body around as if to catch sight of what it was he was looking at, and I ran. I ran with more energy and determination than I had ever remembered feeling. I thought I heard him yell something, but I couldn't be sure for the blood pounding in my ears. I crossed the same road for the third time now and practically flew over the playground's gravel that had once proved my captor. I was getting close to the apartments now and knew I couldn't stop until I was safely behind one of those doors. What I would do next, I didn't know. I couldn't think about that now. All I could afford to do in this moment was keep my feet moving as fast as possible. I feared if I slowed down he might be able to extend his controlling influence over me again.

Finally my feet moved from the uneven softness of the grassy lawn to the concrete of the breezeway between apartment doors. I quickly looked at the four doors within sight as my brain scrambled to decide which to pound on first. Did it really matter? Why was I even taking the time to be selective? After seconds that felt like minutes, I saw the clear, clean lines of a brass three centered perfectly on a door. It almost looked as though it was glowing, begging me to select that door. I am sure I felt this way because three has always been my favorite number, but something about that door called to me. And so I lunged for the door, pounding with the side of my fist. I yelled pleadingly, "Please, open the door, please!"

My clenched fist tightened as I continued to pound and plead, and I could feel my fingernails digging into my palm. I was about to give up and try another door when the hairs on my neck stood on end as I got that eerie feeling of being watched. I continued to pound while I quickly sent my gaze in both directions to calm my adrenaline-filled senses. I first looked toward the direction of the car. I couldn't see the car around the corner of the building, but I also couldn't see him, which caused me to let go of my bated breath. However, the feeling of being watched persisted as I flipped my head around my other shoulder, my hair whipping me in the face with the action. When my hair fell away from my eyes I noticed the open door to apartment number four directly behind me. In the doorway stood a very large silhouette of a man. My arm froze, still raised at a right angle, my hand pulsing in pain from the incessant pounding. Instead of feeling relieved to finally see an actual person, I felt a different sense of terror in my new situation. What I saw behind the silhouette was too horrific to be real and the smell emanating from that open door was nearly powerful enough to bring me to my knees.

Yeah, Write...

So, here's the deal for those of you who didn't read last week's comments. We are playing a little community writing project with my story from last week. My friend Maria is going to write a "chapter" after my little cliffhanger I left. Then next week my friend Ginny is going to take a chapter. This is all for fun and I want to make it clear that anyone who wants to participate can and should speak up in the comment box if you want to. There is no pressure to participate, but I think it would be fun if lots of you got involved. So, if you so choose, make your comment now. I'll make the assignments for each week and we'll see where our story leads us. :) Sound good?

And... I am still writing my own version of the story. Some of you requested that and I wanted to let you know that it is actually happening. I spent a long time writing yesterday. I'm not sure when I'll publish it but it is in the works.

Hopefully I'll have Maria's chapter up today. :)

And keep the prompts coming. I think it would be fun if the writer has to use at least one or two of them. What do you think?