Storm

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He comes towards her and then her ribs are on fire. She’s on the floor and in pain. He’s causing it and not letting her get up. Another branch was blown against the building, making Tempest flinch. It was him, Jason; she could hear his voice in her head. The crashes outside, the dark and the shadows, it was bringing it back. She knew where she was and that she was out and that he had been killed, but the part of her that knew that wasn’t being allowed to reason right now. 

“Bold move, princess, you’ll regret that.” And he was wearing his creepy smile. The smile made her want to run, to hide. It was always surrounded by pain. She always did regret going against him, he made sure of that, always. The lightning casting eerie shadows throughout the tiny building. The storm had been going on for what felt like hours. It wasn’t clear when she started to hear him and his threats combining with the crashes of the branches and seeing flashes of the walls that looked too much like the room she had been in for weeks right now, but now they wouldn’t stop. 

“You will respect me.” His voice is a growl, a command. Then his hand is around her throat and her back is pressed painfully into the wall. She can’t breathe and she’s scrambling and struggling, but nothing is working. “I control everything in your universe.” She’s gasping for air and on the floor. “I decide everything.” The room is too small, way too small, it feels like a trap. It feels like she’s back there, like she can’t leave. She can’t be back there, just can’t. It feels like it. She can’t get past the panic, it’s crowding everything out. It’s just the shadows and the dark and crashes and his voice. 

There’s a crash of thunder, a loud one. There’s a gunshot, right beside her head, the sound echoing. She almost died. There were still more shots. She could still die. “You got lucky, princess. Do you still feel lucky?” It’s a game. It’s all a game to him. Her fear makes it more entertaining to him, she hates giving him the satisfaction. He’s going to kill her. He holds the gun up for the next shot. Tempest closes her eyes, trying to block the images out, block the horrible, terrifying memories. It doesn’t make a difference. You can’t block out what’s only in her head. 

“You’re really doing this to yourself, princess.” There’s the clang of metal on metal, the door closing, trapping her. “There’s no point in resisting.” And she’s trapped in the corner. Jason is trapping her there, standing in front of her, standing over her. He has a hold of her arms, his grip painful and going to leave bruises. Every time he touches her, it’s nothing but pain. His touch brings nothing but pain. She doesn’t want to be in pain, she wants to be left alone, to not be afraid. There’s another clap of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning. It lights up the inside of the room for a few seconds, but that’s enough. It’s Jason and he’s here, sitting in this building. She screams. How? How is he here? He can’t be here. She can’t let him catch her. He will hurt her. He’ll kill her. She stumbles up using the wall onto legs that she’s not even sure are going to hold her. It takes precious seconds to find the door and she stumbles and practically falls through it outside, just glad that it isn’t locked. It could have been locked. Someone must have left it unlocked. She’s running for her life, even if it’s more like stumbling and she’s not making much ground. She needs to move faster. He can’t catch her. 

“You’re going to need your energy for the next part.” Her legs are kicked from under her and she falls, being held by grips on her arms. Her head's underwater. When she tries to breathe its water filling her lungs, not oxygen. Her body tries to expel it, water isn’t supposed to be in your lungs, but she can’t. There’s only water, she’s surrounded by water. It’s everywhere. It feels so real, the panic, the desperation. It brings her to her knees, her shoulder hitting a tree keeping her from falling entirely to the ground. The rain falls around her in sheets, soaking her clothes and her hair in minutes. It feels like it's in her lungs. It feels like she can’t take any oxygen. She needs oxygen. Her right hand is curled into a fist and brought to the trees and she slams it against the trunk. Over and over again she hits the tree with all the strength she can access. It stings and it’s painful, but anything is better than not being able to get enough air. That’s a different kind of panic, an overtaking panic that tops everything else. She forces herself to get up and keep moving. He could still be somewhere behind her and still be looking for her. She didn’t know how far away she had gotten, but it couldn’t be far enough. 

“It’s too late for that, princess.” He has a hold on her, she can’t move. He’s not letting her. She’s so close, she was almost out. He caught her. He’s going to kill her. His arm is heavy, overbearing, and bordering on suffocating. Although that could be the fear. She can’t tell. She’s powerless against him. There’s a hand on her arm, grabbing her and stopping her from running anymore. Oh god, he caught her. She tries hitting the hand and pulling away, trying anything to get away. It’s not working. He still has her. She’s going to die. Why is this happening? Why? She slips, falling in some mud. Her arm gets free for a second, but it’s quickly grabbed again. She curls in on herself, trying to make herself the smallest target possible. 

“If you ever try to escape again, I will break both your arms and shatter your legs,” he growls in her ear. The bones of her wrist weren’t where they were supposed to be. He’s squeezing her broken wrist, making the pain flare to a bright red. He was serious. He always was. Oh god, she tried to escape. She did escape. She escaped and now he caught her again. He was going to carry out his threat. He was going to hurt her. Her breathing starts to cut in and out. It was going to hurt, hurt more than anything. She could go into shock. They might never heal. He wouldn’t let them heal. Oh god, she wasn’t going to be able to move. “Please, please, please,” she gets the words out between gasping, panicked breaths, “don’t break any bones. Please, not that—just not that. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Please, I—I’m sorry.” Her eyes are screwed shut, not willing to look at the anger on his face and to see the pain that is to come. 

There’s another set of hands on her, lighter touches, not grips trying to keep her there. “Tempest, Tempest, look at me,” a girl’s voice, concerned. The first set of hands lets go, only the lighter set on her still. It has to be a trap, she doesn't know what else it can be. She doesn’t want to look. “Tempest, it’s me, Madeline. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Tempest forces her eyes open. She can see Madeline, even if she’s not very clear. It’s Madeline. Madeline’s here. Jason’s going to get her now too. She doesn’t want to look around. Jason’s close, she knows that. He was right here a second ago. “Run. Run. He—he’s here. He's going to get you. He’s going to hurt us.” 

“What do you mean? Who’s he?”

“Ja—Jason.” Mocking laughter. Gunshots. The sting of kicks delivered to her body. “He’s, he’s here. He caught me. He’s going—going to break my legs.” Water. Flesh breaking. Psychopathic smile. 

“Tempest, listen to me, look at me.” Her hands are gentle on her face, guiding Tempest to look at her. “He’s not here. He’s gone. You’re safe, okay.”

“No, no—I saw him. He was there.” Tempest saw him.

“He’s not here. He’s not coming to get you. It was only Holden and Lucas, and Kai and me in the building. No one else. It’s just the storm. It put us all on guard. He was shot.”

She doesn’t believe her, but Madeline keeps talking. She talks to her, dragging her out of the memories when they fill her head again. Tempest doesn’t know how long they are there, but sometime later the storm has stopped and the beginning of sunlight is showing in the sky. Madeline is still there. 

It was Kai who Tempest had seen last night, in the brief flash of lightning he looked like Jason. But it wasn’t Jason. He was dead. He couldn’t hurt her. It was all memories, in the past. Her mind had made it all seem so real. Her mind had gotten away from her. Once Tempest thinks she can walk again, they make their way back to the others. Tempest hadn’t gotten very far. Madeline and her sit on the tailgate of the truck. The silence sits there like a pane of glass.

Her knuckle is shredded, but the blood washed off in the rain. Yet another injury to add to her growing collection.