Amnesia



She woke up; her face was pale white, sweat streaming down the sides of her face, eyes red. There was a big bruise around the left eye, puffing up, turning the skin around the orbit purple and blue. Her head was thumping hard, and heart was beating rapidly inside her chest. She lay in the mud, barefoot, feet full of mud, and so was her scrawny body. The rain pouring, making it even harder for her too see. She sat up, looking around, trying to recognize the scenario; everything was blurry inside her head. “What is going on? Where am I,” she thought. The flashbacks come to her, little by little.

Her stepfather was trying to kill her, but where was he? She gets to her feet slowly, pain shooting up her spine as she stretched out, her legs weak. It was dark, the back of her hair stood up, goose bumps forming all over her body, and everything was silent; too silent. Inspecting her surroundings, more flashbacks come back as if a film played inside her head, playing only parts of the movie.

She began to see Larry, her stepfather, carrying his favorite baseball bat, his hands full of mud; blood was splattered on the tip of the baseball bat. He had on a black jumpsuit, and even though it was dark, she could still see the blood stains on the suit. He was sweating, and looked nervous, yet relieved. The back of his shirt dripping wet with sweat. He walked to his old Chevy pick up truck, throwing the bat in the bed of the Chevy, getting on to the truck, and quickly driving off, the tires making a horrible screeching sound as he disappeared into the darkness. The film stopped.

She was now on her knees, sinking back into the mud, they had given up. She decides to crawl through the rain, determined to find out what happened. Now she was conscious that she completely alone and deserted, tears began crawling through the corners of her eyes, nothing seemed familiar.

10 minutes of inspecting, the film in her head played once again, but now she was in her bedroom, standing inside her room, looking at herself sleep. Confusion arose, it seemed like she was a ghost as she walked over to herself, speechless; she was looking at herself. As she walked over to the body that looked exactly like her, the door swung open; only a dark manly shadow, who seemed to be holding a bat. She fell back as the shadow enters into the dark room, his work boots full of mud, leaving a trail as the man walked closer to the girl sleeping peacefully on the queen sized bed. The ghost girl stumbles on the floor as she slowly backs away from Larry. Can he see me?

The man, stepping into the light of the moon coming through the small window, is Larry, who looks at the body asleep on the bed, his eyes furious, and scary. Larry reaches for her, yanking the girl out of the bed by abruptly grabbing the hair that had been neatly braided.

“Let’s go for a stroll Maddy.” Says Larry; his voice was deep, and as if he were joking. Maddy watches in horror as Larry pulls her body out the bedroom, across the small house through the back kitchen door, unable to make a sound. Her body begins to stiff, watching intently as the girl tries fighting against her stepfather to let her go. Maddy is too weak compared to Larry, her punches make no effect on the enormous man, whose grip has gotten tighter around the braid. Larry pulls Maddy out to the Chevy, picking up the bat on the way out.

The scenario changes once again. Now, Maddy is staring at Larry throwing Maddy to the ground. The place looks familiar now. This is where she woke up. It begins to sprinkle, and begins to pour harder by the second. Once he has her where he wants her, he lets go of the hair that is now a knot of blood, and mud. Maddy falls weakly to the floor, her skin was scratched and red under the mud, crying loudly, pleading to go home.

Maddy watches over her body, praying that she will wake up from the nightmare. As the Maddy that is on the ground struggles to get to her feet, the bat is raised and brought down onto her head. She falls to the ground hopeless. The sound of thunder is accompanied by the sound of the skull cracking and the screams of the Maddy.

“Come on Madison, get up.” Larry is enjoying the cries. A creepy smile appears on his lips, devilishly. The Ghostly Maddy closes her eyes, quickly putting her hand to her ears, yet the sound of the bat breaking the bones, and the sound of her own tears were still clear through her hands. Slowly, the cries fade.

Everything goes silent; she slowly opens an eye, and then the other. Once again, she is confused, and lost. The scenario looks familiar. Maddy is sitting up in her bed, putting pressure her chest, panting, trying to slow the rapid beat of her heart. Her braid was undone and dripping sweat, the back of her nightgown humid, and extremely damp. Maddy tries to convince herself she is safe, “I’m home. I’m alive. I’m OK.” Her breathing begins to slow down; her heart is still beating quick but not as much as before. “Just a nightmare.” She assures herself. As Maddy begins to calm down, she lays back down, when she hears a rumble outside the bedroom door. She sits up, reaching for something to defend herself. The rumbling stops, as she reaches for a glass cup where she had drank milk before going to bed that night. “It’s all in your head Maddy. Calm down. Go to sleep.” As she gets comfortable, the door is kicked open. There’s Larry, holding his favorite baseball bat, the same look of devil in his eyes, as in her nightmare.