June 11th, 2008
I gotta get out of here.
People with their poking and, "Oh, Taylor’s so cute." I have an IQ of 135 for fuck's sake! I couldn't stay there. No one took me seriously. I was just a joke. A kind of pet when conversation dwindled and TV failed to entertain.
This highway never fucking ends. Sigh. I couldn't leave Jasper though. He's the closest thing to a best friend I've got, despite being a bit of a dumbass. And unfortunately, the only person I can trust at this point. I'm lucky he agreed to come with.
It was the worst birthday ever, really. I don't know how they could have thought that kidnapping me out of my bed and putting me through some kind of sick hazing ritual would be a good idea, or remotely fun at all.
Jolted out of bed by a blindfold being put across my eyes, some piece of cloth (I fear it was a sock) stuffed in my mouth, arms and legs tied together and carried out to a car in the fucking freezing cold. Next thing I know I'm being driven somewhere and have no idea where I'm going. Had I not known their voices so well I probably would have pissed myself in terror.
I was delirious from the taunting, the being thrown around, the car ride and not being able to see a damn thing. The blood drained from my face when I felt the first stroke. I don't even think it was meant to tickle. The gliding finger across my throat was probably an attempt at being condescending. At any rate, I was now even colder and shaking from the anticipation alone.
I could envision myself bound to the chair I was in, unable to see, head flailing every which way in a desperate attempt to let my ears make up for my useless eyes. What was worse is that I could foresee the crushing of pride, the destroying of dignity, the complete loss of confidence. It shook me. I debated how to prepare myself. I had some fight in me, but was it pointless now? Begging was an outright admission of defeat, that is if I even had the chance to beg. I don't think I could let myself do that. I continued to second guess myself.
Someone untied my wrists from each other, pulling my arms over my head and fastening them to something I couldn't see. The vulnerability alone made my heart stop. Time had stopped and I fought to keep any composure that I had left. I knew it was only a matter of moments before a lump formed in my throat and my lip started to tremble.
The situation was bad enough, but the adrenaline and the inability to express myself or see anything had cornered me into a space in my head that was just as frightening.
Someone's long fingernail dragged up my side into my armpit and back down. My response was audible even through the makeshift gag. In my head, I was already reciting pieces of prayer I had remembered from my Catholic school days. I knew it was coming. I could tell in the way it was so quiet the air was vibrating. They were probably at that very moment exchanging knowing glances and not so subtle head tilts towards where they were to attack.
And it happened so fast, like a gunshot before a horse race. One of them was whisper-singing "happy birthday" in my ear, as if this was supposed to be a fucking gift, while tracing shapes in my armpits. Another was treating my ribs like a xylophone. The other dragging their nails across the tops of my feet. It was utterly maddening. Stuck in the corner of my brain, I started to question reality altogether, fighting desperately for anything to keep hold of mentally, anything to keep me sane in this moment.
Someone had removed the gag. It was comforting to breathe air that wasn’t being filtered through a dirty sock. I couldn’t control my mouth or what came out of it.
“Untie me you assholes or I swear to fucking God when I get out of here you will pray for death. Believe it.” I spat, hoping it hit someone. They just laughed at me.
“I don’t think so, hon. You looked so happy a second ago. This scowl of yours is very unbecoming.”
An unrelenting scribbling at my underarms began. I screamed as if I was being burned. The scream melted into a mess of squeaks and laughter, betraying the thoughts of fear I had.
“Let me fucking go. How is this at all fun for you?” I pleaded.
“Oh, it’s great fun. See, Taylor, here you are, Ms. “I’ve seen it all. I’ve done it all. I know it all. I’ve had such a horrible life. I can handle myself,” but you can’t. You’re weak, sad, pathetic and I think we all needed to see that. Especially you. Because that little “I’m better than everyone attitude,” was getting really old.”
“I never said I was better than- FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST!”
Someone, somehow, had managed to worm their fingers into the hollow behind my left knee. It was excruciating. I opened my mouth waiting for the torrent of hee’s and ha’s to escape, but it was silent. I was wheezing, gasping for breath and it did not stop. My lip started to quiver. I was done for. My nose was running. I wanted to sob.
Panic spread through my chest. My breathing became shallow. I could feel the blindfold becoming saturated with sweat and tears. My thoughts were less conscious human and more animal instinct.
The chair was tipped backwards causing me to fall, chair and all, against the cold floor. The wind was knocked out of me and it was difficult to get air. My toes instinctively curled as if they were trying to shield my soles from my captors eyes, but it mattered not. It felt like a thousand fingers going at once. Scratching at my soles, between my toes, my ankles, each stroke chipping away at any defenses I had left. Any energy I had mustered up to this point was depleted. My laughter was now mixed with sniffles and heavy sobs. The pain, both physical and emotional was exhaustive. I prayed for unconsciousness.
I muttered in a tiny voice, “Please.”
Knowing they’d won, they went for the kill again. Like a track team doing a victory lap. It seemed no inch of skin was left untouched. I screamed and did my best to kick or spit on anyone that came near. They put the sock back in my mouth. I gagged.
The assault lasted for what seemed like forever. I think it was, in actuality only ten minutes. Someone had been tickling my neck and ears for so long I started to see spots. I was babbling nonsense behind the gag. My feet burned from the nonstop raking. My stomach ached and I could feel a pinch in my cheeks from laughing so long without rest.
I started to pull my arms as hard as I could, trying any tiny possible way to prove to myself I had some kind of control over my body. It only seemed to make things worse and they laughed at my plight.
It was more than I could handle. My back arched, every muscle tensed, the blood rushed to my tear stained face. Air wasn't coming fast enough and everything was going white. I had finally had enough.
I don't remember much after that. I woke up on my bedroom floor with rope marks on my wrists and ankles and one of the worst headaches I had ever felt.
I'm still a bit on edge, which is probably why I decided to just up and leave so impulsively.
I plan to move somewhere where no one knows who I am, how ticklish I happen to be, or when my birthday is.
I need a drink.
-Taylor
------------------------------------------
Coming Soon (as in this week) to MTJ Publishing: Taylor Dylan: The Druantia Chronicles e-comic
I gotta get out of here.
People with their poking and, "Oh, Taylor’s so cute." I have an IQ of 135 for fuck's sake! I couldn't stay there. No one took me seriously. I was just a joke. A kind of pet when conversation dwindled and TV failed to entertain.
This highway never fucking ends. Sigh. I couldn't leave Jasper though. He's the closest thing to a best friend I've got, despite being a bit of a dumbass. And unfortunately, the only person I can trust at this point. I'm lucky he agreed to come with.
It was the worst birthday ever, really. I don't know how they could have thought that kidnapping me out of my bed and putting me through some kind of sick hazing ritual would be a good idea, or remotely fun at all.
Jolted out of bed by a blindfold being put across my eyes, some piece of cloth (I fear it was a sock) stuffed in my mouth, arms and legs tied together and carried out to a car in the fucking freezing cold. Next thing I know I'm being driven somewhere and have no idea where I'm going. Had I not known their voices so well I probably would have pissed myself in terror.
I was delirious from the taunting, the being thrown around, the car ride and not being able to see a damn thing. The blood drained from my face when I felt the first stroke. I don't even think it was meant to tickle. The gliding finger across my throat was probably an attempt at being condescending. At any rate, I was now even colder and shaking from the anticipation alone.
I could envision myself bound to the chair I was in, unable to see, head flailing every which way in a desperate attempt to let my ears make up for my useless eyes. What was worse is that I could foresee the crushing of pride, the destroying of dignity, the complete loss of confidence. It shook me. I debated how to prepare myself. I had some fight in me, but was it pointless now? Begging was an outright admission of defeat, that is if I even had the chance to beg. I don't think I could let myself do that. I continued to second guess myself.
Someone untied my wrists from each other, pulling my arms over my head and fastening them to something I couldn't see. The vulnerability alone made my heart stop. Time had stopped and I fought to keep any composure that I had left. I knew it was only a matter of moments before a lump formed in my throat and my lip started to tremble.
The situation was bad enough, but the adrenaline and the inability to express myself or see anything had cornered me into a space in my head that was just as frightening.
Someone's long fingernail dragged up my side into my armpit and back down. My response was audible even through the makeshift gag. In my head, I was already reciting pieces of prayer I had remembered from my Catholic school days. I knew it was coming. I could tell in the way it was so quiet the air was vibrating. They were probably at that very moment exchanging knowing glances and not so subtle head tilts towards where they were to attack.
And it happened so fast, like a gunshot before a horse race. One of them was whisper-singing "happy birthday" in my ear, as if this was supposed to be a fucking gift, while tracing shapes in my armpits. Another was treating my ribs like a xylophone. The other dragging their nails across the tops of my feet. It was utterly maddening. Stuck in the corner of my brain, I started to question reality altogether, fighting desperately for anything to keep hold of mentally, anything to keep me sane in this moment.
Someone had removed the gag. It was comforting to breathe air that wasn’t being filtered through a dirty sock. I couldn’t control my mouth or what came out of it.
“Untie me you assholes or I swear to fucking God when I get out of here you will pray for death. Believe it.” I spat, hoping it hit someone. They just laughed at me.
“I don’t think so, hon. You looked so happy a second ago. This scowl of yours is very unbecoming.”
An unrelenting scribbling at my underarms began. I screamed as if I was being burned. The scream melted into a mess of squeaks and laughter, betraying the thoughts of fear I had.
“Let me fucking go. How is this at all fun for you?” I pleaded.
“Oh, it’s great fun. See, Taylor, here you are, Ms. “I’ve seen it all. I’ve done it all. I know it all. I’ve had such a horrible life. I can handle myself,” but you can’t. You’re weak, sad, pathetic and I think we all needed to see that. Especially you. Because that little “I’m better than everyone attitude,” was getting really old.”
“I never said I was better than- FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST!”
Someone, somehow, had managed to worm their fingers into the hollow behind my left knee. It was excruciating. I opened my mouth waiting for the torrent of hee’s and ha’s to escape, but it was silent. I was wheezing, gasping for breath and it did not stop. My lip started to quiver. I was done for. My nose was running. I wanted to sob.
Panic spread through my chest. My breathing became shallow. I could feel the blindfold becoming saturated with sweat and tears. My thoughts were less conscious human and more animal instinct.
The chair was tipped backwards causing me to fall, chair and all, against the cold floor. The wind was knocked out of me and it was difficult to get air. My toes instinctively curled as if they were trying to shield my soles from my captors eyes, but it mattered not. It felt like a thousand fingers going at once. Scratching at my soles, between my toes, my ankles, each stroke chipping away at any defenses I had left. Any energy I had mustered up to this point was depleted. My laughter was now mixed with sniffles and heavy sobs. The pain, both physical and emotional was exhaustive. I prayed for unconsciousness.
I muttered in a tiny voice, “Please.”
Knowing they’d won, they went for the kill again. Like a track team doing a victory lap. It seemed no inch of skin was left untouched. I screamed and did my best to kick or spit on anyone that came near. They put the sock back in my mouth. I gagged.
The assault lasted for what seemed like forever. I think it was, in actuality only ten minutes. Someone had been tickling my neck and ears for so long I started to see spots. I was babbling nonsense behind the gag. My feet burned from the nonstop raking. My stomach ached and I could feel a pinch in my cheeks from laughing so long without rest.
I started to pull my arms as hard as I could, trying any tiny possible way to prove to myself I had some kind of control over my body. It only seemed to make things worse and they laughed at my plight.
It was more than I could handle. My back arched, every muscle tensed, the blood rushed to my tear stained face. Air wasn't coming fast enough and everything was going white. I had finally had enough.
I don't remember much after that. I woke up on my bedroom floor with rope marks on my wrists and ankles and one of the worst headaches I had ever felt.
I'm still a bit on edge, which is probably why I decided to just up and leave so impulsively.
I plan to move somewhere where no one knows who I am, how ticklish I happen to be, or when my birthday is.
I need a drink.
-Taylor
------------------------------------------
Coming Soon (as in this week) to MTJ Publishing: Taylor Dylan: The Druantia Chronicles e-comic
