No Strings Attached

Chapter 12

No Strings Attached

XII

"I thought you'd be the last to break but I guess I was wrong. What else are you afraid of?"

Isaiah knew that voice was taunting him specifically. Yet he refused to move. Head low and eyes down casted on the beautiful hardwood floor, Isaiah's ears focused only on the sound of Carrie and Miranda's voices. He could hear Carrie's cries slow until they were almost gone. Words of encouragement and concern from Miranda were spoken so low that Isaiah was surprised he could even hear them. He wasn't going to look up or move. He wanted to stay planted there forever.

Something touched his neck and his instinct had his fingers rush to grab it. Yanked off his knees and onto his feet, Isaiah almost felt his neck snap at the sudden movement. Muscles ached immediately, but more alarming than that was the abrupt inability to breath. Pressure on his neck grew tighter and tighter and he struggled with his fingers to pull the offending object away. All other thoughts in his head were gone other than to get the hell out of there and survive, no matter the cost.

Somehow, he could still make out the voices around him. Pudge moved to be at his side but was halted and cried out in pain, as though something had pegged him to the floor. Miranda's voice pierced through the air as she screamed his name. He tried to open his mouth to assure them that it was going to be alright, just stay back, don't worry. Yet he couldn't. How could he speak if he couldn't even breathe?

The rest of his body stopped struggling and he let his fingers do all the work. The only intention he had was to keep the rope from cutting off his air supply completely. The others would figure out how to save him, since it was obvious he couldn't do it himself. Despite his calculated movements, his body trembled in fear. Death was mere millimeters away and he knew that better than anyone. His mind flashed at that thought and he was brought back to the memory of his father hanging from his belt above the support beam of their house.

Is this is? Is this what he felt? If he had failed, and was strangled and didn't break his neck? This panic? This fear? This is terrible. More than anything, this is the worst feeling of my life, he thought. Dread was creeping up his neck and tickling his brain, almost taunting him to just let the rope end it. Laboring against death wasn't worth the fear. Embracing it would be easier.

Suddenly, it was gone. Isaiah dropped back to his knees and slumped forward. Sprawled out on the floor, he heaved heavily in an attempt to refill his lungs of that precious oxygen he'd been denied. The ache in his neck and throat were undeniable. Steadily, he tried to rise from his spot on the floor. Before he was fully up, Miranda was at his side. Worried, she gave him a hand up as her eyes inspected the fresh bruises on Isaiah's neck.

"No. That wasn't it. You're not afraid of death. But you are afraid of…"

The soft touch of Miranda's hand turned violent as she clamped down on his arm. It was done instinctively as her air supply was cut off. She didn't take it as calmly as Isaiah had. Feet kicking, she wrestled her entire body around. Even if it meant dislocating every joint in her body, she was going to get out of that noose. One hand yanked on the rope at her throat while the other tried to pull the top down, but where exactly had the rope come from and where did it end? Isaiah wasn't helping the situation, as he just started to shout her name over and over in the most panicked tone she'd ever heard.

"Is...aiah… sh…shut…up…" Her strained voice was just loud enough for Isaiah to heed the order.

Pudge was the first to notice the origin of their current predicament. At the top of the staircase just to his left stood the puppet that had mocked him in the past. In its clutches were two puppets similar in appearance to Isaiah and Miranda. A rope was secured around the puppet of Miranda. He had tried to move toward the deranged, possessed thing, but was halted when nails through his feet and the floor secured his spot in the room. Stuck there, he felt powerless, and he trusted no one else in the room at that moment to be of any help. Irritated, he punched the floor, effectively breaking his hand. Now he was even more useless.

It was Carrie that reacted. She snatched an astray off the coffee table near her and threw it with all her might at the puppet. Blindsided, it struck the puppet on the side of its face. It was jolted but didn't appear to feel any pain. Gradually it turned its head to face Carrie and said, "After all the fun we've had?"

Distracted, the puppet didn't notice Thomas monkey his way up the side of the stairs. The little boy reached the marionette and yanked the two dolls it held in its hands. Angered, the puppet went to push Thomas but the boy got to it first. He kicked at the rotten joint on the puppet's leg. Collapsed in a heap the puppet was vulnerable, but Thomas was experienced enough in this funhouse to know it wasn't going to stay that way for long. As he went to leave, the puppet phased out, as did the two Thomas held in his hands.

Threat vanquished, Thomas casually walked down the stairs and returned to the group. Pudge nursed his injured feet and broken hand. Isaiah held Miranda's shoulders as the girl coughed. Once more Thomas didn't ask for permission, he merely did as he wanted and embraced Miranda. The sudden contact startled her, but it gave her an opportunity to move away from the overly-concerned Isaiah.

"Thanks, Tommy," Miranda said with a smile. Her voice was a bit hoarse but it felt good to talk. The embrace was returned. Then, she left to thank Carrie as well.

Pudge approached Isaiah, the older boy watching the two girls converse openly with a bit of jealousy in his veins. The voice of Pudge broke Isaiah from his thoughts. "That was us, you know," he said. When Isaiah could only stare at him confused, Pudge explained, "Those fears. I don't know what's with your strangling fetish but you're lucky someone isn't dead."

"It's not going to happen again," Isaiah assured him.

Pudge didn't necessarily like Isaiah, but the conviction in the elder boy's tone was convincing enough. He nodded, showing that he trusted and believed in Isaiah's promise. He said, "I don't know about you but I want to kick that puppet's ass."

"That would be easy if it was just a regular puppet but we have no idea what kind of strange place this is," Isaiah said.

"Think maybe we're already dead, and this is just some purgatory for messed up kids like us?"

It was said so calmly, so matter-of-fact, that Isaiah didn't even register the weight of it right away. It dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, they were going through some trial in order to get passed the gates into Heaven. Yet there was nothing in memory banks of being in a life or death situation. Only the face of that disturbed clown as it hovered above him at night came when he called upon memories. Then there was Carrie. She had disappeared but no body was ever found. Here she was, still alive.

Isaiah had to answer. He said, "No. We're still alive. And we're going to get out of here alive. I promise you that."

Again, all Pudge could do was nod.

Isaiah then left Pudge and approached the girls, well aware a very serious conversation needed to be had. There was something he needed to understand. With each step closer to Carrie he could see her body shake a bit more, until it froze from the hardy stare he was giving her. Politely, he stopped himself a small distance from her so she could feel secure knowing that he couldn't touch her unless she gave permission. Situated between them was Miranda, and Isaiah knew she could sense the emotions between the cousins clearly.

A beat of silence passed as Isaiah tried to formulating a proper sentence. His voice was low and strained when he asked, "Do you want to talk? About something? About anything?"

Miranda didn't just see Carrie tense but she felt it. Somehow, the entire world titled just enough that she gripped Carrie's arm to steady her. Maybe it was done to steady herself, too. Isaiah remained still. No words were said between the two girls. Miranda didn't really know Carrie and she definitely didn't understand her predicament. Abuse, molestation… those were words heard over newscasts that her mother made sure she never watched. She was sheltered, she'd admit that freely. Still, she wanted to be of help. How, though? There was no one there to answer that question.

Carrie couldn't even look at her cousin, the long kept secret of her life finally out in the open for not only him to view, but strangers as well. Ashamed, she wanted to flee, to never look back at Isaiah again. Convinced he was silently judging her, she was afraid of what kind of degrading words would come from his mouth.

Isaiah licked his lips, which had suddenly gotten dry in the tense air. He said, "If what Pudge suggested is right – and god, I hope he isn't right – then, whatever it takes, we're going to find peace for you."

"What did Pudge say?" Miranda inquired. She was ignored.

"I'm sorry I deserted you," Isaiah whispered. He couldn't speak any louder, even if he tried. His voice failed him. Despite all the attempts he made up to that point, he couldn't stop himself from crying, either. It started off as a few tears that welled up and fell, and then sobs shook his entire body as a wave of emotions hit him harder than he had ever felt. All he could imagine was how afraid she felt, how terrifying that life must have been for her to endure. Then to be here, in this awful Hell, where it was repeated again and again? Anger, pity, sadness, guilt… his mind was in overdrive as he tried to figure out what exactly he could do to make it right.

They stood there without another word spoken or another inch moved as each of the five kids grappled with their own demons.