| Title: If Walls Could Talk Author: Giselle Rating: PG-13 Category: Thriller/Original Summary: I hate writing summaries, it almost feels like you're spoiling the story. Read on... Author's Note: I've never really been big on the guts and gore of horror, just fear and suspense itself. Come to think of it, I hardly ever entertain myself with horror. I hope I can pull it off decently. ~Chapter One~ If I said I knew where this was going I would be lying. Two years ago I was your average teenage nightmare. I never came home on time, stayed out with my friends until all hours of the night, came home drunk, practically every conceivable amount of trouble you could possibly imagine a teenager getting into, I'd done. My parents were, to say the least, at their whit's end with me and when they decided to send me to a rehabilitation camp for a few months - that's when everything I once knew began shattering around me... "You've got to be kidding me! This place is like a prison camp for kids!" I couldn't believe my parents brought me here. Sure, I wasn't exactly the model student, but this? This was a nightmare! The walls of the Kennedy Summer House were made of a thick, dark brick. If you stared at it too long you could almost swear it had been stained with blood, scraped off through the years to rot within the sweat of the teenagers working the yards. The towering fence that ran along the outside of the grounds area was ten feet high, with massive barbed wire coating the top of the surface. It was the type of prison even the toughest of convicts feared being placed in. "You're here for the summer so you might as well make the best of it," Jack said, handing me the large suitcase Susan had packed for me. My mom and dad. Roll model parents, right? You wouldn't say that if you'd spent the last sixteen years under their constant scrutiny. I think the biggest reason I got into the trouble I did was because I figured if they wanted a show, I'd give them one. So that's what I did, and that's how I landed here. "Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, I'm glad you could make it." A tall man, obviously trained in the type of discipline that was common to these rat holes, walked towards our car, one hand extended towards my father. "I hope you didn't have any trouble finding the camp." "No, the directions you gave us were fine," he told the man, shaking his outstretched hand while indicating for me to pick up my luggage. Rolling my eyes and grabbing the back pack and suitcase I followed them down the long path that led inside of the large brick mass. The interior of the building contrasted like no other to its outside appearance. White, stale walls soaked with antiseptic ran in a maze-like design, causing an eerie sense of dizziness to anyone unfamiliar to them. Numbered doors ran along the expanse, creating a false sense of order to its chaotic state. There was no way I could stay in this place for three straight months. "Daddy, do you really hate me this much? Do you really want to get rid of me this badly?" I knew I was pulling out all of the stops, but I also knew there was no other way to get to him. Keeping his eyes forward and continuing down the long hallway he didn't answer me until we stopped in front of what I assumed would be my room. "I'm sorry Jamie, but you can't keep running from your life. I've made my decision and we'll both have to live with it." I know I should have just put my pride aside right there and at least said goodbye to him, but I walked straight into the room instead, slamming the door behind me. He was my father for crying out loud. How could he put me in a place like this?! The muffled voices outside the hall were a little difficult to make out, but I certainly caught the first thing that came out of the asylum clone's mouth, "Don't worry Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, she's here so we can help her. She'll be the loving daughter you once knew before no time." I was the one who needed help?! This guy didn't even know me and now he was making judgment calls on my life! I guess that's how every kid here was treated. Like a problem that just wouldn't go away. "Hey." Hearing a voice whisper softly from across the room, I nearly jumped out of my shoes. They really didn't keep the rooms very well lit, so I hadn't noticed the other girl in there with me until she'd spoken up. "H-ey. I didn't see you there when I came in." As she leaned farther into the light I could make out the worn features that hung silently in her eyes. They almost looked like ghosts among her dark auburn hair. "Yeah, they tell us that we need to be respectful when someone new is brought in. Not talk until after their parents have said goodbye and left. You could say it's a rule here I guess." The clothes she was wearing looked a little worn, perhaps slightly too large for her small features, but basically pretty much punk. It complimented the paleness of her skin very well, contrasting against the black outlines of her eyes. She looked quite a bit like a junkie who'd been suffering from serious withdrawals. "I'm Jamie Johnson," I offered, hoping to at least have one friend while I was trapped in here. "Erin Baker." "So how long have you been locked up in here?" I asked her, tossing my suitcase into a corner and sitting down on my bed with the backpack. Shifting slightly on her bed and placing her chin onto her knees she shrugged, not taking notice of the stray piece of hair that fell in front of her eyes. "About two years...I think." I couldn't help the unease that crossed my face. She'd been here for two whole years? I thought this was just a summer camp. "So...you're not sure how long it's been?" Glancing towards the door she let her eyes travel back towards me a little nervously, curling up into herself a bit more. "It's a little hard keeping track. They don't really keep calendars on the walls in any of the rooms. They say it's so that we don't loose sight of what's important...getting better." "Getting...better..." Her gazed dropped slightly to stare at the floor as she nodded her head a tiny bit. Letting out a long, silent breath I laid down on my bed. If that's what getting better turns you into, I think I'd prefer getting worse! "So, who exactly are 'they'?" I asked, turning back to look at her again. It was then that the door opened, a silhouette of the same counselor that had brought me in outlining the doorway. He paused before saying anything, taking in the appearance of the room...almost as if he were looking for something. "It's about time for supper. You'll want to wash up." Glancing towards Erin's bed once more he walked back down the hall, leaving the door standing ajar. "Three months," I mumbled, irritated by the thought as I sat up and followed him out, Erin close on my heels. ~TBC~ |
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