No Strings Attached

Chapter 11

No Strings Attached

XI

Miranda found herself awake several hours later, the last of the group to finally arise from slumber. The others had gather around the kitchen island, all focused on something little Thomas was saying. After rubbing the sleep from her eyes she joined them. Positioned behind Isaiah, she glanced over the boy's shoulder at the countertop where Thomas was doing his best to sketch something out on a paper towel.

Isaiah felt her approach and could definitely feel her breath against his ear as she leaned over him. He turned to confirm it was her and not some creeper. "Hey," he greeted just barely above a whisper.

"Morning," was her immediate, still half-asleep response.

"Sorry about last night. I didn't mean to be a jerk," he said.

At first, she wasn't sure what he was talking about, the sleep having ridded her memory banks of the previous night. Once she remembered, she blushed lightly and said, "Don't worry about it." Isaiah was quick to turn back to Thomas's drawing, so she assumed he got that hint that it wasn't an incident she wanted to talk about. Besides, it was time to focus on more important things. "What are you guys working on?" she asked.

It was Pudge that answered, "This brat's got a photographic memory. He's drawing a layout of this place."

"Well, a layout according to the model we found in that playroom," Isaiah corrected. Pudge didn't acknowledge the correction, but instead crossed his arms and pouted for being called out.

Miranda took a closer peak at the workmanship of Thomas. The bumps in the paper towel made it impossible for the lines to be straight and the marker he used had a tendency to bleed if he let it linger in one spot too long. Despite all that, it was a fairly detailed sketch and appeared to be properly scaled. Miranda knew adults that couldn't draw that well.

She complimented him, "Nice work, Tommy. You're a real artist."

"Thanks. I've had a lot of time to practice," he said, his voice cheerful for the praise. There was a hint of sadness behind it though, punctuated with a smile that revealed how difficult it was for him to comprehend all that he had been through. It would take years of recovery to return to normal, he'd already recognized that despite his young age. Still, he remained as cheerful as he could in that moment.

Isaiah placed a finger on the top of the drawing, where there appeared to be an attic space. "This is where Pudge and Carrie had their, uh, voodoo doll things placed. Do you guys think the top of this place is the key out?" he asked.

"Maybe but how the hell do we get there? This place doesn't make any sense. Up is down, left is right, out is in, holes appear out of nowhere, we disappear out of nowhere. There's no rules," Pudge said. Silence followed. It was an accurate observation, but no one wanted to face that fact. Even if they had survival skills, none of them would be useful in this situation.

It was Miranda that was going to offer words of encouragement to the otherwise already defeated group, when her entire body went numb and her surroundings flashed. Transported again, she opened her eyes to find herself in what appeared to be a den, the room divided into four quadrants by large, glass walls. By this point she was getting used to the back-and-forth they'd be subjected to, so she was able to keep her mind focused. To the section on her right appeared Carrie, to her left Isaiah followed, and Pudge appeared diagonal from where she stood. Thomas was the last to arrive, finding himself placed in the same section as Miranda. He latched onto her and refused to let go.

She couldn't help but ask out loud, "Where are we now?!"

A voice above said, "Let's see what you're afraid of!"

Pudge, ever riled up, shouted back, "Not you, you freak! Get down here! I'm sick of playing games!"

"Someone doesn't like being alone. Or, maybe they don't like being unable to help?"

Miranda felt her heart pound after the last sentence from that evil voice faded. It wasn't even the taunting tone that bothered her, but rather the frightened scream from Carrie that got her worried. Through the glass she could see that Carrie had retreated to a corner of her quadrant, desperate to get away. Looming over her, a figure tall enough to be an adult but with features hidden by the shadows approached. Unsure of what to do, Miranda remained still.

Pudge punched the glass as hard as he possibly could, eager to get to Carrie before the stranger. He screamed, "Don't let him touch her!" The desperation and emotion in voice caused it to crack, the shriek finally forcing Miranda to move. She watched Pudge do his best to break through. After a few hardy hits without any results, he slumped to the ground, turned his back to Carrie and covered his ears.

"Carrie! Hang on!" Miranda shouted. Really, she said it mainly to herself as a pathetic way to convince herself that she could do what Pudge couldn't. Vibrations flew up Miranda's arm when she landed her first solid hit against the glass. It hurt – bad. Bruised immediately, her hand didn't want to smack the barrier again. Gritting her teeth, Miranda forced her body to cooperate, and she hit the glass once more.

Isaiah was hitting the glass on his end, too, but with his arm as badly damaged as it was, there was no way he would succeed. To make it worse, the only way he could possibly get to Carrie is if he broke into Miranda's first and helped her get to Carrie. Placed in the worse possible position to get to his cousin, it was clear to Miranda that this must have been Isaiah's fear.

The stranger reached Carrie and Miranda froze, her open palms resting on the glass as the aches from her punches took hold. A fear hit Miranda's gut at the sight of Carrie cowering in the corner, the stranger roughly snagging her arm. It wasn't until the stranger's hand made its way up Carrie's shirt did Miranda move again, driven purely by panic and desperation.

With as much force as she could muster, Miranda rammed the glass with her shoulder. All of her body weight went into each hit. Every noise in the room went silent to her as she focused purely on the task at hand. Finally, she felt the glass crack, break, and then give way completely. Awkwardly she tumbled into the next quadrant, falling on her damaged shoulder and feeling the glass shards scrap and cut her body. There was no time to worry about that now, as she had to help Carrie.

A lamp was near Miranda, so she picked it up, she stood and swung with all her might at the man attacking Carrie. It struck him on the arm and startled him enough that he backed away. Another hit and the man fell backwards and the middle of his back struck the end of a coffee table. The strange threw his hands up in surrender. Miranda pulled back with the lamp, ready to end the entire ordeal with a hardy blow on the man's face.

"Miranda, baby, what are you doing?"

That was her dad's voice. She halted mid-swing, her eyes wide and breathing stalled. The man whose features were hidden by shadows suddenly became clear as the confused and hurt face of her father appeared before her. It couldn't be, though. She refused to believe in it. Nothing in this house was real. Not a damned thing. "No," she said out loud. "No. No, you're not my dad." With full force she let loose the lamp. It crashed against the table and shattered, the existence of the strange man now completely faded from their presence.

The barriers followed, gone without a trace. For a moment no one moved, unsure if taking even one step was a safe thing to do. The only noise made was the heavy breathing of Miranda as air refilled her lungs, and the very soft, quiet sobs of Carrie. Isaiah, in such a hurry a second ago to be at Carrie's side, was caught motionless. Pudge slowly opened his eyes and lifted his hands off his ears. Around the room everyone tried to return to normal – or, at least as normal as they could pretend to be.

Miranda was the first to move. She rushed to Carrie and held her as tight as she possibly could. A few calming words were uttered into Carrie's ear but other than that they just remained there. Never in her life had Miranda dealt with something quite so traumatic, so she really had no clue what to do. All she could so was assure Carrie that everything was alright in that moment, and that no matter what it wasn't going to happen again. Although, that last bit seemed like a lie even after she said it; they had no idea what was going to happen next.

Isaiah finally moved. It was a lot to process. The others never would have recognized the man that attacked Carrie but he knew that face immediately. It was his uncle – Carrie's own father. As the gears in his head turned he tried to piece together why exactly something that like that was happening in a place like this. Before he made any conclusions, his body instinctively took a step forward.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to find Pudge there, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. No eye contact was made, as Pudge was too ashamed of himself to brave facing Isaiah. He said, "You should probably leave her with Miranda for a moment."

"Why?" Isaiah demanded.

"You really think she wants a guy around after being remained of that?" Pudge asked.

"She trusts me, it's okay," Isaiah reasoned.

"God dammit, it's my turn to tell you what to do, so listen to me, got it?!" Pudge screamed.

The conversation was quiet up to that point, but now Miranda was watching the two intently over Carrie's shoulder. The last thing they needed was to be fighting. Yet it seemed as though Isaiah understood, as she watched him back away immediately with no words of hostility emitted from his mouth.

Pudge lowered his voice and faced Isaiah fully when he spoke next. "Listen, I don't know what you three had the pleasure of doing when I was with Carrie but there's something you need to know. She does trust you, and she cares for a lot. But you really let her down, you know? Do you ever think that maybe after your dad died, you tried a little too hard to be an adult?"

Realization hit Isaiah full force. Pudge was right in some ways. Whatever Carrie had told Pudge about her relationship with Isaiah was probably honest. Her family had taken him in right away, no questions asked. He was thankful and made sure his appreciation was known, but he didn't want to rely on their handouts. Less than a year later he had moved on and requested that he become a ward of the state. He was determined to show that he could make it without help from his extended family. So, what had he left behind when he shut the door on that family? Did he miss the signs? Was Carrie being abused under the exact same roof he slept under?

Ashamed that he had let another member of his family down, Isaiah shrunk away from Pudge and found himself situated on his knees. From a distance he watched as Miranda comforted Carrie, a job that Isaiah should have taken care of. It's a job that shouldn't even be needed. I should've been there, he thought bitterly to himself. He was broken from his thoughts only when Thomas silently made his way to Isaiah's side and latched himself onto the older boy. He returned the gesture, although only halfheartedly.