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    Katya Dee
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

The First Lock - 32. Part 3, chapter 5

- V -

 

“Didn’t you understand me, you little shit?” Damien’s blonde imprisoner asked in an irritated voice. “Get the hell out of my head! It’s annoying!”

“I’m sorry...” he muttered quickly. “I didn’t do it on purpose, it just happened... I’m sorry...!”

“Then control yourself better!” she hissed. “Next time it ‘just happens’...” she made air quotes with her fingers. “I am going to hurt you worse than before, do you understand me?”

He blinked and swallowed hard, pressing his back into the wall where she kept him chained to a radiator. He had no idea where he was. It was some house -- that was the only thing he knew. He also didn't have any idea about how he got there. He was playing a computer game when the air around him shifted in some odd way, and suddenly, he became so sleepy, he could not keep his eyes open. The last thing he remembered was the sound of the front door opening, followed by quick footsteps. When he woke up, he realized that he was slumped on the floor, surrounded by dark silence, with one of his wrists handcuffed to a radiator.

“Do you understand me?” she repeated in a dangerous voice.

“Yes,” he muttered, helpless hatred and fear burning the inside of his chest.

“Damn brat,” she said quietly, mostly to herself. “Out of all those abilities, you had to end up with the most annoying one!”

She opened the pack of cigarettes and grimaced when she realized it was empty.

“Damn...” she muttered. Then she remembered that she had another pack somewhere in the other room, and her mood improved somewhat. She looked at Damien intently. “Do not even think about trying anything,” she said in the even voice. “The minute I feel like letting you go, you will be sorry, understood?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes two miserable blue slits.

“Speak up!” she commanded.

“Yes!” he almost screamed, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. “Was that loud enough for you, stupid cow?!”

She didn’t move, but suddenly, Damien felt like he was whipped with something that had razor blades on it. He screamed and threw his head backwards, hitting it on the wall.

“Don’t you dare raising your voice at me again,” she said calmly. “And don’t you dare calling me names! Understood?”

“Yes,” he moaned, unwilling tears escaping through his eyelashes.

She looked at him for several minutes with thoughtful contentment. Finally, she nodded to herself and went into another room. The minute she disappeared behind the door, Damien squeezed his eyes shut and the image of his mother appeared bright and clear in his head. He did call her before; he did it last night after that blonde woman made him feel as if he was burning alive. She did it after Damien’s frantic attempt to make her let him go. The minute he tried projecting on her, she froze in her tracks and a very thoughtful frown greased her forehead.

“Son of a bitch...” she said finally in a low voice. “Just like you father, aren’t you? Don’t even think about doing it again!”

That was when he suddenly felt as if he was nothing but a small human torch. It hurt like hell even though there were no marks on his body. He had no idea how that woman was able to do it, and he didn’t care. All he wanted right then, was for the pain to stop.

“Next time, it will hurt worse,” she said after a few minutes, and then the pain was gone.

Fifteen or so minutes later, when he could breathe normally again, he pulled up an image of his mother in his head, and reached out as hard as he could, fear and panic flooding him worse than any waterfall could. He started screaming for her silently, trembling all over. He was screaming for her to come and get him. He knew that she heard him; she didn’t reply, of course, but he knew that she heard him.

“What are you doing?” the blonde woman asked him sharply after noticing his expression. “I said, what are you doing?!”

“Mom!!” he screamed louder than ever, even though not a single sound escaped his throat.

The woman quickly crossed the room and slapped his face so hard that he bit his tongue and his head smacked into that radiator.

“Whatever you just did, do not do it again!” she hissed and her voice sounded as if it was coming from afar, having difficulties pushing through all that ringing in his ears.

Right now, she was in the other room, so he decided to try once more. The minute he saw her image, he started to scream silently again, making sure that he listened hard for the woman’s footsteps. He really didn’t want to get caught again; he knew that she would hurt him worse than before.

“Mom!” he shrieked the minute he felt feedback. “Mom, please! Come and get me, please! She is really scary! God, mom, please!!”

Suddenly, something slightly shifted, and then Damien heard someone’s voice in his head.

“Damien! Where are you, kid? Tell me where you’re at!”

He tensed up for a second, and then figured that whoever it was that replied to his call, couldn’t possibly be worse than his blonde torturer.

“I am in the house,” he thought desperately. “I don’t know where it’s at... I just know it’s a house...”

“Can you see anything through the window?” came another quick question.

He carefully opened his eyes, afraid that he would lose contact after he did that. Nothing happened; the presence in his head was still strong, and he sighed with relief. He looked through the window.

“Trees,” he thought as desperately as before. “There is this weird-looking tree... It’s like a palm tree, only not... I don’t know how to describe it!”

“Show me,” the person in his head demanded.

“How do I do that?” he panicked again.

“Calm down, kid,” the voice said quickly. “Just look at it and send me a picture... As if you are sending a postcard, okay?”

Damien bit his lip and stared at that tree, trying to imagine himself sending an invisible postcard. He had no idea if it worked or not, so when the voice in his head barked ‘Got it!’ he almost cried with relief. Then he heard footsteps.

“I gotta go!” he shrieked with horror. “She is back! If she catches me...”

“Stay calm, kid,” the voice said urgently. “Just stay calm and...”

The footsteps were louder now. He knew that the blonde woman was about to get into the room.

“I gotta go!” he whimpered and slightly shook his head, breaking the contact.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply when she saw him shake his head.

He looked up, terrified.

“I...” he stuttered. “I am... I am hungry,” he muttered and closed his eyes, expecting another blow.

It never came. Instead, the blonde just exhaled tiredly and said:

“Ah, crap, that’s right... I never fed you, huh... Fine,” she sighed and lit a cigarette. “Don’t want you to starve to death... I don’t think you would starve to death, not in two days,” she shrugged. “But I am not taking any chances. I want you conscious and alert when the time comes.”

With that, she turned around and went into the kitchen. She came back five minutes later and handed him a plate with several slices of bread on it. He reached out tentatively with his free hand, and took the plate. She sighed and set a plastic cup full of water next to him.

“Don’t spill it,” she said sharply, and he nodded.

He chewed on that bread hungrily -- he really was starving. To his surprise, the bread wasn’t old and moldy as he expected at first. It wasn’t oven-fresh, but it was soft enough and it smelled good. He ate his bread, feverishly hoping that whoever it was he just talked to, would be able to find him soon.

 

****

 

It was five in the morning when Katrena and Jett left the house. She slid behind the wheel and impatiently waited for Jett to get into the car.

“Where do I go?” she asked tightly. “I have no idea where she took him! Can you reach out or something?”

“Let me try,” he muttered, and suddenly, there was desperate screaming in her head once again.

“Jett!” she gasped. “He is calling for me! Right now!”

His hand flew forward and his fingers dug into her forehead. She blinked rapidly when all of a sudden, she could hear both of them – Jett and Damien – talk silently to each other. It felt like she was listening to some bizarre phone conversation. It was almost like a three-way call, except she couldn’t participate.

“Got it!” Jett thought almost furiously after asking Damien to show him that tree.

“I gotta go!” Damien’s silent voice was oozing with pure horror. “She is back! If she catches me...”

“Stay calm, kid!” Jett thought quickly. “Just stay calm and...”

“I gotta go!” Damien interrupted him in a whimper, and then he was gone.

Katrena gritted her teeth in helpless rage. Roxanne DeLuca is going to pay for everything she’s done to Damien, she thought furiously. And if something happens to the kid, then God help her...

“Where do I go?” she asked in a tense voice, and Jett frowned thoughtfully for several seconds.

“Let me drive,” he said finally. “Because I am not sure...”

The thought that he didn't have a driver’s license never even crossed her mind. She simply nodded and got out of the car. They switched seats, and then Jett just sat there for several minutes, frowning thoughtfully, biting his lip. Finally, he nodded to himself and threw the car into gear.

 

...They were on the road for longer than an hour now, and Jett kept frowning, his head cocked slightly to the left, as if he was trying to hear something. He stopped and turned the car around for probably ninth time, and then he drove back, glancing around with his eyes narrowed. Katrena kept her mouth shut even though she wanted to scream at him to hurry the hell up already. Suddenly, without any warning, he threw the wheel to the left and flew into the turning lane, cutting across two lanes of traffic. Someone honked shrilly, but he ignored it and so did Katrena. He turned into some dead-end street and slowed down to crawling speed.

“Is this it?” Katrena asked tightly, and he was silent for a minute.

Finally, his eyes slightly widened, and Katrena followed his look with her gaze. He was staring at some tree that was trimmed in such a manner that it almost looked like a bizarre version of a palm tree. “There is this weird-looking tree... It’s like a palm tree, only not...” she remembered immediately, and her fingers grasped the door handle so tightly that she couldn’t feel them anymore.

“This is it,” Jett muttered and pulled to the curb. He looked at Katrena. “I will keep her busy,” he said without a smile. “Go!”

“Which house?” she frowned, looking at two houses that were sitting side by side. The tree could’ve been seen from either one of them.

Jett stared at the houses for a minute or two, his lower lip locked between his teeth, eyes nothing but tense blue slits.

“The one on the right,” he said finally.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly, and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am sure. He is in there, I can feel him...” He frowned deeper. “Who is Paul?” he asked suddenly, and Katrena blinked.

“Why?” she asked carefully.

He glanced at her.

“He keeps thinking about him,” he said slowly. “He keeps asking him for help... Who is Paul?”

“I thought you couldn't read minds,” she said calmly.

“I can’t,” he nodded. “This is different, however... Because we are related, and also, because we share the same ability... I can hear him. Who is Paul?”

“He...” Katrena sighed. “It’s a long story, okay? I’ll tell you after we are done here.”

“Okay,” he nodded with the same small, thoughtful frown. “I will keep her busy,” he said again. “Shouldn’t be too hard... Get the kid out of there before you rip her heart out, would you?”

“I will,” she nodded seriously and got out of the car.

©Katya Dee; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Finding Damien was a little easier than I expected. Getting him out isn't likely to be so easy.

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