Page 2 of Anorthic Anarchy

Hot tears sear my eyes as I cry, “Mother! Mother!”

But she doesn’t answer.

Chapter 2

Astrid

The splinters of my new home should be the least of my worries. But those slicing cuts are all I can think about. And how I can even manage to get them all out when I can barely move.

Blank spaces don’t bother me. It’s what I’ve known for the last eight years. Forgotten rooms and silence help me navigate the tortuous paths in my mind. In fact, most nights, I like to find a closet in whatever foster home I’m in and tuck away into the corner. Tiny enclosures comfort me in a way. And the quiet.

When Ferona signed away my virginity to a group of strangers under their promise of keeping her alive, as per usual, she had not thought it all through.

First of all, they shot her creepy husband, Tom, despite her begging for his pathetic life. I happened to be quite pleased by this. The man’s lecherous eyes rarely vacationed from my figure since I came to them at twelve. His sweaty palms ventured to my thighs under the table at every opportunity when I turned fourteen.

Fortunately, both were such neglectful guardians, I hid in my scant bedroom in the attic without much notice. Solitudeand Ferona’s monetary motivation to maintain my virginity have been my perfect parental figures. It also helped that I was such a special case that I didn’t have to attend regular school with others my same age. The state found me so important as to maintain my level of isolation. Not to mention, I graduated at sixteen.

I had been incubating until I could escape… But a creaky wooden crate was not the way I planned it.

Secondly, the mobsters who showed up did not, in fact, keep up their end of the bargain. The pen was still clutched in Ferona’s grip as the bullet went through her head.

Now that was a bit of a shock. A giggle glazed my lips as she slumped on the table when I thought,Bye, Ferona.

However, the worst part of her terrible agreement was that I was naïve enough to think I’d be carted off in a respectable mafia trunk, one like in the movies. Perhaps a big Cadillac while riding the bumps and waves of the street like I was in a carpeted glass bottle. With a hastily scribbled note of loneliness clutched in my hand.

Nope. Instead, here I squat inside of a literal box. For days.

It stopped being difficult after the first ruts in the road. That pain jarred me enough to let me know they wanted me alive. The men moved me from one van to another twice. Then into some warehouse overnight. Now, everything is just scratchy. A gnawing pit of hunger in my stomach left several hours ago, as did everything in my bowels and bladder.

Yet I still can’t bring myself to miss Ferona and her run-down townhouse in Lecherton. No, the only things I miss are food, the ability to stretch out my legs, and a bathroom.

Wyatt will rescue me.

The vehicle I’m currently in makes a screeching halt and I fly into the front of the boards, my face rubbing against the rough surface. More splinters. A sliding sound comes from behind meuntil my ass hits the hard ground with a thud. At least I still have a head.

I always knew they’d come for me. I didn’t know who it would be first, but I understood what Wyatt tried so hard to fight. We were destined to come back here, to the hell that our great-grandparents fought hard to leave. Our dad taught him the ways of Gnarled Pine Hollow, but I would sneak to listen in. It was a history that we were never supposed to repeat to anyone. My heart would seize, fearing my family would be killed if the bad men from some far-away city ever found us.

Then, one day, they did.

“Stay down. Be quiet.” Wyatt shoved me into a closet with a hurried kiss on my forehead. My ears got fuzzy from the loud bangs that followed. Did I stay put? I’m not sure… Idoremember squeezing my eyes closed for most of it.

In my nightmares, I find myself wandering down the white halls of our house, searching through bloodied bodies to find my brother, only to discover my father’s lifeless eyes…

I sobbed for days in my closet until someone found me alone and put me in the foster care system. It could have been worse, and I know that now. Ever since, I’ve been waiting for the right time to return to Gnarled Pine Hollow so I could find my brother and we could be together again. And despite the horrors of my arrival, some hope sticks to my skin like honey. What if this is my perfect opportunity to see him? It may be my only chance.

Muffled voices echo through the cracks along with some slivers of light. It’s daytime now. It’s either the third or fourth day. And I stink.

“Yeah, she signed the paper. Tell the master that the stars have arrived,” a man’s voice instructs.

“Take it around to the back entrance. We don’t want it coming through the house.” A woman says.

It? Does she mean me or the crate? Maybe we’re one now.

With grunts and groans, some men lift my prison off the ground while I sway through the air. Jagged corners, bumped shoulders, curse words, and two dropped passes later, I’m sliding across a rough floor into a dark place. The cold filters through the cracks like knives cutting into my skin. All I’m wearing are my pajama shorts and an old Veruca Salt T-shirt.

A metal door clangs shut, and I’m left alone.

Good thing I’m used to it.

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