The Girl With Tattoos • Original Version

The Girl With Tattoos (43)

TRIGGER WARNING: this subject may be sensitive to some people so please read at your own risk.

The scenery flew by with a blur as I zoomed past the dense Florida woods and weaved through heavy noon traffic. Panic spread through my body and numbed the burning sensation spreading inside my chest, slowly reaching my throat. Flashing lights of red and blue rushed past me and they didn't bother pulling me over for speeding as they took sharp turns towards the school, instantly setting me back into another state of worry.

This went from a good day to one of the worst of my life.

Turning the final right onto the road leading to Summerfield highschool, I quickly skidded to a stop as roadblocks of several police cars stopped incoming traffic. Kids were being escorted through the back and away from the school as police tried to find a way inside the main building.

"Hey! I need to get past," I slurred, staring at the chaos happening yards away from me and cringing. The cop closest to me immediately recognized my state, a calm smile stretching across his rather kind face. "Please."

"I'm sorry but no ones allowed in or out. I'm guessing you know someone inside?" Nodding slowly, I watched in horror as kids ran with tear stained cheeks into equally disheveled parents who looked like the world had just ended right before their very eyes, and it might as well have.

"She-" I took a slow breath, throwing off the helmet squeezing my head into mush. The cop still smiled as I swallowed down my anxiety and blinked back several cries. "She's in the main building. You have gotten in there, right?" I stared at his dark eyes and saw nothing but pity, or maybe it's more of sympathy. I couldn't tell.

"As much as I would like to calm your nerves, I can't disclose any information. Sorry," accepting his vague answer, I nodded sharply. He went to answer more information hungry people as I wandered closer and closer to the police helping disperse the growing crowd.

Surveying the scene unraveling me was harder than knowing someone I deeply cared about was inside that hell because siblings, parents, and friends stood compactly around me were thinking the same exact thing, keeping back as many pains as I was. Some couldn't keep it in as they screamed in pain at echoed shots, a reminder that our loved ones were trapped inside.

Since when did Ryker deal in public things like this?

I already knew the answer but for the sake of my sanity, I decided against acknowledging it.

Each second was another stab to my chest, to my heart, to my head. An ever-growing migraine pulsed against my skull, a blur growing across my eyes as I started to only see the madness happening in the parking lot down the road.

Shields, guns, fear. I could see it all. The teenagers escaping the school with dried blood staining their hands. The terror engulfing their young faces along with a certain relief to be away from the overpowering grief surrounding the school. The looks of pure love and reassurance as they met the greedy hands of family.

When would this nightmare be over?

"Sir!" I slightly yelled over the loudness of the street at this moment and tapped lightly on the shoulder of another cop keeping distressed people back and away from the war zone. 

"Yes?" He answered, his tone stern and powerful. He was more serious than the last guy I talked to and it was quite unsettling as his emotionless eyes captured my own.

"I-," I swallowed, the dryness quickly scraping my throat from uncomfortableness and straight fear," I, uh... any news? Please. I'll take anything, almost anything. Good, bad, depressing," licking my lips to no avail, he stared at me nonchalantly and smirked, laying a hand on my shoulder and squeezing softly.

"I can't. Sorry."

"I'm sick of you guys just apologizing all the damn time! Just tell me if my girlfriend is okay or not!" I screeched, the word slipping right out but before I could recognize it, loud and consistent shots billowed loudly from the school and bounced around the emptiness of the day. The entire crowd surrounding me screamed in unison and ducked lowly onto the ground, another wave of panic spreading through the mob. "Please! I just need to know!"

Feeling the pressure build as no one answered me, I finally let myself go and I fell down with a dramatic thud, tears falling melodically from my eyes. The overpowering noise of absolute madness quieted down as I slowly descended into my own hole of reality that wasn't actually real. I crashed, feeling an uncontrollable thumping in my chest that distracted me from the ugly noises I released in an effort to stop myself from crying. Panting out irregular breaths, I pulled on my hair harshly and thought about everything and anything. Was this somehow my fault? Could I have stopped this? What is even happening?

I smelled the distress in the air and felt the uneasiness pushing me deeper into my dark state. The ground shook as I slowly soaked in everything happening. Riots started in my head, a mix of mild depression and extreme anxiety fighting to keep me from calming down.

I cried and cried and cried, the migraine I had evolved into something so unbearable I had to cradle my pounding head with harsh hands. My nails scratched my scalp viscously and the new pain I created brought me back down to Earth.

I examined the similar reactions other people were having and accepted the fact that I might never see my best friend ever again, just like these parents had to accept as they stared at kids being quickly escorted into ambulances. 

My tears never stopped after several minutes of enduring the pebbles digging into my skin and my nails piercing whatever skin I could get my hands on. I wrapped myself up into a tight ball, just like I did when I was kid holding back panic attacks, and closed my eyes as the wetness escaped through any means possible. My emotions got the better of me and I finally understood what love was: how it affected us and how it controlled us.

Just wake me when I can recognize what's real and what's not again.

✦✧✦

:: Gracie's POV ::

A headache restlessly throbbed against my burning head as I tried to remember the events that occurred before I went to sleep but a sudden wave of nausea quickly washes over me. I hunch over to allow myself to throw up but I'm quickly pulled back as something tight around my throat forces me to sit in an upright position. Quietly choking, I try to move my hands closer to the cold material encasing my neck but my wrists were bound by the same thing.

I opened my eyes with a curiosity bubbling inside my chest but as I stared at the rusted metal shackles chaining me to a disgustingly dirty wall, I felt the sickness wash over me once more.

What the hell have I missed?

Barely moving my head, to try and stop a rash from forming that would cause more discomfort than being bound, I stared at the cage I was encased in like I was a prisoner from the 18th century. I gaped at the horrific room in front of me, the dead animals rotting inside corners and unrecognizable stains lining every crevasse and surface. To lighten the mood, I laughed to myself as I studied the almost barren room.

Or, at least I thought I was alone.

I heard the echo of returning laughter from down the hall, probably from a man as it was oddly low. The eeriness found a way into my stomach, the uneasiness of my situation finally dawning on me;

They fucking found me.