This will be deleted soon - The Wrong Hope *Complete and Free*

4. Focus

Sally-Anne

Year: unknown

“Ricky?”

I sprung to a crouch and my eyes flew open, taking everything in in a flash. The room was large and mostly empty. Grey non descript walls, no windows, one door – a metal door, a tall lamp, simple wooden chair, a side table, bare light bulb hanging from the dirty white ceiling and a concrete floor. Thick metal hoops were dotted across the floor, fixed into the concrete. Hefty chains ran through the two nearest me from metal cuffs around my wrists all the way across either side of the room. On the side closest to the door there was a lever, the chain sank into the floor next to it. I looked around wildly. Where was I? Why was I? Why could I see now? Speak now? Move? Where was Ricky? Did he chain me up? Not that I minded. It was better this way. I remembered the footsteps but nothing after that, must have been lost in my own thoughts.

The door began to grind open, metallic squealing and screeching. I slapped my hands over my ears. It was so loud it hurt. A man stepped in carrying a bucket, I didn’t recognise him. A shred of hope peeled away from my heart like a petal falling from a damaged flower. The light came on and I screamed. It was so bright, too bright, it burned. That split second had left bright white circles pulsing in my now closed eyes. I cowered on my knees.

I heard a breathy chuckle, the light switch clicked off, a hand rubbing across the wall in front of me, heavy footsteps toward the chair, the soft creak as he sat and the clack of the bucket as it was set down, handle banging against its side.

Still. I stayed still on my knees, eyes closed, and hands still over my ears – softening the sounds but not blocking them out. Terror scratched at my skin, my muscles, begging me to bolt. I heard packets rustle and the sound of a match being struck. I heard it flare and sizzle, the smell of smoke was intense like the match was stuffed right up my nose. A familiar sucking noise, the stranger, my captor had lit a cigarette. He took a big drag. I could hear the air sucking between his teeth, his lungs expanding, a slight click in his left shoulder as they rose with the breath. Somewhere in my mind a voice whispered, analysing; old injury, it said, weak spot, it cooed. I was confused. The sensations were so intense, so overwhelming, all encompassing. It hadn’t been like that before. Not that there was a lot of ‘before’. I could hear his heart thumping steadily, wetly, gushing blood a white noise in my mind. My mouth watered. A low growl, predatory, slipped from my lips. I was disgusting.

“There it is.” The man said under his breath, amusement lacing his voice. He took another puff on his cigarette and shifted in his chair. “Putting the light on.” He spoke in barely a whisper but it was like he had his mouth right by my ear.

There was a click and electricity whirred. I stayed kneeling, eyes closed, hands over my ears.

“Damn! You're a mess Doll.” He gave a low whistle. Too loud, it hurt. I whimpered. I could taste his cigarette when I breathed in, ash smeared on my tongue.

“Looks like I got me a newbie.” The man said to himself. “You gotta relax the focus Doll.” He directed me. “Imagine zooming out, or turning it down or some shit..”

I tried. He waited. Every little noise my focus flipped, pinpointing it, his leg shifting, heart beat, blink, breath, heart beat, blink, lips parting to puff the cigarette, breath, blink, heart beat, tapping the cigarette, ash dropping to the floor, breath, cycling round and round.

“f**k sake Doll, get a grip.” The man blew out a breath clearly frustrated and sighed. “Try layering it – take one noise, hold onto it, lay the next one over the top. Build the picture.”

I tried again. The sound of his heart caught me first, tender and wet and oh so delicious. Then his breathing, even and steady with the slight click from the shoulder, the rustle of his clothes from the rise and fall of his chest. I held them both in focus adding more sounds on top as they came till they all fell into place; none of them screaming at me, instead a comfortable background noise. My shoulders relaxed and I moved my hands from my ears.

“Took your time Doll.” He mocked.

With great caution I opened my eyes a crack. The light was low but still made my eyes ache. Slowly I raised my head to look at him. He wore heavy looking boots, black and scuffed with dried mud, dark blue jeans, chequered short sleeve shirt with the buttons undone and white vest underneath. My eyes lingered on the exposed flesh of his neck.

“Keep ‘em coming Doll, up here.” He drawled, sounding bored.

My eyes flashed to his face, blue eyes that were almost grey, tousled dull brown hair, thin lips and scruffy stubble. In his 40’s perhaps? I really wasn’t sure.

“Where’s Ricky?” I whispered.

“You say something Doll? We ain’t all got super hearing.” His lips turned up in a lazy smile.

“Where’s Ricky?” I repeated.

“No Ricky here, just us. Who’s Ricky? He sire you?” The man lent back in the chair and took another drag of the cigarette before tapping the ash onto the floor.

I sank back onto my heels. Ricky wasn’t here, this man, whoever he was, didn’t know Ricky. I stared off into space, a sinking feeling in my chest.

“Earth to Doll, Earth to Doll.” He called, I looked at him. “Ricky turn you?” He asked.

“I... I do-n’t know what you mean.” I stammered, confused. Turn me? What?

“Newbie.” He breathed, rolling his eyes “You even know what you are?”

I shook my head, there was something wrong with me, but I didn’t know what.

“You’re a Vampire Doll, and somebody did it to you. My guess is this Ricky fella, f****d up too by the looks; left you all alone knowing nothin’ about nothin’.” He mashed out the cigarette nub on the table with a sigh before bending down and slowly reaching into the bucket.