Something More (discontinued)

Chapter 16

Uma POV

 "Who do you work for?" I ask again. "Your mother." 

Suddenly everything around me sounds muffled, and my eyesight gets blurry. I trip over my own feet and fall on my face. When I stand back up the men are nowhere to be seen. "HARRY!" I scream out. Of course my mother did this, I think to myself. She warned me not to be with Harry anymore...this is my fault. 

I've gotta get Harry back. I march back to the restaurant and bang on my mothers door. After a minute it swings open and my mom looms over me with a scowl on her face. "What do you want, Uma?" "I want you to tell me what the heck is wrong with you!" I yell. "I can't believe you had people kidnap Harry!" I say loudly in disbelief. "Don't worry about him Uma, I only told them to drop Harry off at his chambers, they won't hurt him, I promise." My mom says calmly. "I did this as a warning to you, Uma. This time they didn't hurt him, but next time..." she leans closer to my face, "they will" She hisses. Tears begin forming in my eyes but I quickly blink them away. I hate crying in front of people, but especially my mother. She won't stop calling me weak, and crying in front of her won't help that. "Now go to bed Uma, apparently you have a big day tomorrow." My mother smirks. "This plan will work mother, you'll see." I say, with determination in my voice. "Funny, that's what you said about the last one." She smirks to herself as I leave her room. 

I can't just let these men do this to Harry, I have to go find him. So I decide that I'm going to sneak out of the window and go look for him. I walk to my bedroom and pretend to go to sleep, then I creep over to my window. Ever since I was young, I used to always use this window to escape from my mother. It's quicker to leave the restaurant this way than through the entrance. 

I place my hands on the window sill and look up at the sky for a moment. I hold my breath as I quietly slide my window open, but suddenly a tentacle slams it back shut and onto my hand. I scream out in pain and my mom crawls out of her room across the hallway and comes into mine. I really should've closed my door, I think to myself, as I try to hold back my tears.

"MOM! My hand!" I struggle to say. Tears begin streaming down my face, but I use my free hand to quickly wipe them away. Ursula wickedly looks down at my fingers, then presses her tentacle down harder onto the window. I scream out again, louder this time. "This should teach you never to sneak out again, child." Ursula says, giving me a look of disappointment, still continuing to squash my fingers in the window.

"I'm..sorry. Please mom, STOP," I gasp, panting. I try not to focus on the pain of the window breaking through my skin and start humming quietly. Whenever I'm worried or in pain, I usually hum myself to sleep, or do it just to distract myself. It was actually Harry who gave me the idea to use this method as a stress relief. We'd always play and whistle old sailor songs, Harry on the piano, me singing. It was an effective way to distract ourselves from the problems of living on the Isle.

My mother stares at me, quizzically, not loosening her hold on the window. She's always heard me hum when I needed to calm myself down, she just never really asked about it, or why I did it. I believe she finds my voice to be soothing to her as well. But soon her questioning stare turns into a glare as she shouts "STOP HUMMING!"

Suddenly I realize what she's doing. When I was much younger and disobeyed her, she would always beat me, or cause me pain in some way until I passed out. She hadn't done it to me in a while, but clearly that was what she was trying to do now. She would always beat me, but she only did it to the point of me blacking out if she was really pissed I disobeyed her. Most of the time she could care less, she just wanted something--someone--to hit.

I let out another painful yell, but my mom covers my mouth with another one of her tentacles. I try to use my free hand to smack her tentacle away, but I'm already too weak to fight her back. I had been avoiding looking at my hand that's caught in the window because I didn't want to see how bad the wound was, but soon I decide to glance over at it.