Black and Blue

I just knew that if I started to feel even the slightest bit more comfortable I was going to regret it.

Can you blame me though? Lately it seems that a lot of bloggers have hit a kind of plateau and have been doing a bit better. All this positive energy that's been going around definitely eased my nerves a little bit. Or maybe my lack of activity was just too boring.

Whatever the reason, the other night Ian payed me a visit.

It was relatively late, and while the library was still open it was empty except for me and one or two people at the front desk. I was sitting alone in the far corner of one section, not paying great attention to my surroundings, but I remember hearing footsteps. At first I thought it was another student who was up late as well, so I didn't look up. It wasn't until I felt someone right behind me that I spun around.

And there he was, grin and all. However he didn't look quite as smug as he did the last time I saw him. Aggy had knocked a few of his teeth out with the bat, and there was a nasty gash under his left eye.

"Hello darling, how was the vacation?"


It took all of a second for me to knock my chair in his direction and run towards the front door. Considering I was several flights of stairs away from the exit I'm impressed I made it as far as I did. I guess it really is true that you run faster when you're being fueled by adrenaline. But in case you haven't already guessed from the tone of this post I didn't manage to make it outside.

It wasn't because I didn't reach the door in time, oh no, I made it there fine. There was something waiting for me there when I got there.

Three bodies were lying in front of the door. They had all been on the staff at the library, I'd even made small talk with one of them after she'd helped me to find a book.

And here I thought I'd managed to harden myself to this kind of thing.

No. No. I don't want to become desensitized to death. But at the same time, I can't let it affect me so much. I couldn't move.

I skidded to a halt and fell backwards, I couldn't stop looking at it. All because of me.

How much blood is on my hands now?


I barely noticed when he came up behind me and lifted me to my feet by my shoulders.

"I swear," he sighed. I was vaguely aware that his hand was stroking my head. "You make this too easy sometimes,"

"Why?..." I asked.

It was an dumb question. I don't know what sort of answer I was expecting.

"Because I hate you Opal Jones," he snickered. "And because this is fun,"

"You sick bastard."

"Where was it Fitzgerald smashed your head in?"

Suddenly the stitches Doc sewed in were roughly yanked out of my head.

And that was the last thing I remember.

I woke up at the bottom of a well in New Jersey practically frozen to death.  Judging by my broken arm, and the fact I look like a black and blueberry, I must have been dropped in.

Eventually I was found and rescued by this teenager. She took me back to her house, and her family let spend the night.

 Lovely girl really, a little odd, but nice. And while she does bug me for a lot of details about myself, she hasn't yet asked exactly what I was doing at the bottom of a well, so I'm thankful for that.

And while her parents aren't around a lot, from what I've seen of them they seem nice.

What are you doing Opal? You're a walking time bomb.

I should be leaving. I should've left the minute I managed to walk more than a few feet without falling over. Unfortunately there's...a complication I suppose. I'll tell you about it later when I have a better idea of what's exactly is going on in this house.

I spent today cleaning my head up while no one was looking, and I've been trying to keep my arm still. When I get out of here I'll find a way to splint it.

I don't know what I'm going to do about the busted stitches.

Suppose it doesn't matter. It's not like I have to worry about it killing me.


- Opal