part0033

Ana awoke, sitting bolt upright in semi-darkness. For a moment she thought she was back on the boat again, half-expecting to turn round and see Ricky’s stupid gormless face as he masturbated in the corner. Her skull pounded, a rhythmic drumming like something inside was trying to get out. She cast the ghoulish thought aside, raising her hands to her head, finding them restrained by thick shackles.

‘Shit,’ she sighed, the throbbing in her temples increasing. She tried to remember what had happened, but all that came to her was the splashing sound as the creatures dropped into the water that had surrounded them. Then she was no longer even aware of the darkness.

A steel band manacled her wrists together, affixed to the wall with a heavy chain. Outside the rain continued to pour, flowing in through the glassless window frame.

The strange cell was barren; no furniture, no weapons, just four walls, a window and a door.

‘Rach?’ she called out in desperation, but the only response was the relentless drizzle of the rain .

Ana stretched, feeling her joints pop. Then came the questions.

Where was she? Where was Rachel? And why was she chained up in a makeshift dungeon? She felt woozy and closed her eyes until the sensation passed. Then she cried a little, but found tears hard to come by and gave up. There were more pressing matters. She tugged on the chains, but they were going nowhere. All she succeeded in doing was digging the edges into her hands and peeling back some skin. Through the window she could see the tops of the trees, the massive hill behind them, and up top, the bones of the hotel complex.

But why had they let her live?

Light played across the tree branches and she realised there was a fire outside. She sat, exhausted, waiting for inspiration to strike. She could hear a commotion outside, people working, sometimes talking. No, not talking, speaking ; there was no conversational aspect to the harsh, sibilant tones of the language. She recognised it from her dreams. It was like the voices in her head.

This time was different though. She felt sure they were real. Normally the sounds boomed through her head like amplifiers in her brain. This time they were distant, almost as if they weren’t meant for her ears.

She spotted a figure standing stock-still, facing the far corner.

The girl in the corner didn’t acknowledge her. She was naked, her skin sagging like sheets on a washing line. Something inside her moved, the skin bulging, stretching but not breaking .

‘Are you real?’ asked Ana.

The girl faded from view like a sun-bleached photograph.

‘You couldn’t make this shit up,’ Ana said to herself. It gave her the giggles, which soon turned to full blown laughter, her shoulders shaking, stomach cramping, tears spilling down her bruised cheeks. She wept, huge wracking sobs from the pit of her soul, pounding the wall until her fists bled, screaming until her throat burned.

‘Fuck you! Fuck you! Give me back my sister!’

Perhaps Rachel had been right. She was crazy. Everyone had been right all along. She was seeing things again. This was actually a padded cell back in Scotland, and she was simply imagining the chains and the rain and the bricks and the fire and the ghost girl with the thing inside her and the monsters and the island and—

There was a thump against the door, something slamming against it. What now? What fresh horror awaited?

Her survival instincts kicked in. She looked around for an escape route, or a weapon, or anything . Backing up into the corner, Ana tightened her fists and waited silently.

A key rattled in the lock.

Ana fixated on the door handle, watching as it began to turn. The door creaked open, letting in a thin sliver of light. Her jaw was clenched so tight that her teeth ground together.

She was, of course, but a little white lie never hurt anyone.

A dark shape slunk into the room, as stealthy as a shadow, and a torch beam flicked into Ana’s face, momentarily blinding her. She held up her fists.