Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (reading strategies book TXT) 📕

even had boobs! I thought I’d lost my virginity to a girl. This whole fucking time, it was you, a fucking guy.”

“I worked hard to play her. I had to survive.”

“You lied to everybody!” Stripe said. “Don’t you care?”

“Of course, I do. Why do you think I’ve been so nervous around you?”

Stripe watched him. “I thought you fancied me…”

Isaac's jaw tightened and he swung the car into a dirt road. “We're here.” He unlocked the door and handed her a flashlight. “You'll need this.”

Stripe took it from him and got out of the car. She stood before a huddle of trees leading onto a park. There were more roads and from the markings on the ground, cars and trucks and hikers must’ve moved through the space.

Isaac placed his hands behind his back. “You can cuff me now.”

Stripe giggled nervously. “I thought you were joking about this.”

“I don't joke, Stripe.”

“I can see that.” She brought out the handcuffs from her pocket. She hadn't been this close to him since her strangulation attempt. Isaac was really tall, she only came up to his shoulder. Maybe, it was her but Stripe swore she felt something, a wave, a sensitivity running off him. He jolted when she touched him and she took her time, the skin of her fingers running around his wrist as she locked them together.

“Follow me,” he whispered.

It was a peculiar image; a lanky pale man handcuffed walking along a dirt road with a blonde woman behind him carrying a knife, as if the situation had been planted from a corny horror movie.

Isaac turned off the road and led her down a pathway, she had to be careful as she didn't want to lose her footing. Plus, she wanted to stay purposely behind her kidnapper. They walked and walked until they reached a peak in the path.

“Can you pull those weeds out for me?” Isaac asked.

She did as instructed, yanking a curtain of vines and weeds. When the foliage was stripped back, it revealed a door. The vegetation had smothered the metal, Stripe felt trembles when she stared at a set of two doors, old and rusty with age. There was something on the door, when she looked closer, scrutinizing the texture, she realised they were letters:

Kal...theia.

 

Isaac kicked the heavy doors open. Stripe jumped back, she was shocked that it didn't break and he hadn’t pulled a muscle or broke an ankle. She clicked on the flashlight and shone it around the murky darkness. The light showed a dark dank corridor. The smell of the dampness was overwhelming. She covered her mouth and nose. “What is this place?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled.

“Kaltheia labs. Where I was made,” Isaac replied.

A shiver shot through her spine and she coughed huskily from the stony aroma. Isaac’s voice was louder than hers. It echoed down the corridor and she swore his voice crept up, stroking her ear. Stripe watched Isaac ahead; walking with his hands clasped behind his back. Her palms were perspiring on the handle of the knife. She tightened her grip so hard it was making her bones ache. Stripe shone the light on the walls, grey paint peeled, remnants had fallen on the floor, time turning them to dust. She had to cough several times from the stench, breathing in deeply through her nose, suffering an endless cycle. This place hadn’t been blessed with a gulp of fresh air for a very long time.

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked.

“The smell,” Stripe muttered.

“You’ll get used to it. Back when this place was active, it was like the waiting room of a dentist.”

“Mmmm minty clinical smell. I’d rather have that than this.”

The corridor scissored into two opposing junctions, splitting off into different directions. Stripe met Isaac's gaze and she watched him.

“Are you scared?” he asked intimately.

Her stomach bubbled at his question. “Why? Is there something here? Will it hurt me?”

“No, you’re staring at the walking definition of deadly.” He walked to the corridor leading off to the right.

“Sounds threatening.” Stripe followed him. The tightness on her knife was more painful than ever. “What happened here?” She shone the flashlight on the walls. Faded posters with slogans and graphs that may have held possible answers had rotted away.

Isaac stopped at a door on the left-hand side of the corridor and he propped it open with his foot. He moved inside; Stripe followed. She stopped at the sight of the chair in the middle of the room. The light brown lining had faded out, there were rips in the cushion with holes gnawed at the edges from hungry moths.

“Do you recognise this room?” Isaac asked.

“Yes, from the video tape.” She pressed her palm into the cushion, the words of the frightened young boy melting through her memory. Isaac's footsteps got louder. Stripe turned to him, she shone the flashlight and Isaac squinted against the haze. “How did you get the tape in the first place?”

“I broke into one of the offices down here. Snuck it in my rucksack when I escaped. I thought about leaking it.”

“What stopped you?”

“I wanted a normal life.”

And it caused you to draw a slogan above my dad’s head. In his own blood. “Why didn’t you tell the police about all of this? You escaped from here, right? Why didn't you tell someone about what happened? What did they want from you?”

Isaac stared at her silently. “Give me the knife. I want to show you something.”

Stripe backed up, her legs hitting the lip of the chair. “What are you going to do?”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“No,” Stripe said boldly.

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Okay then. Cut me and you’ll see.”

“What?”

“Cut. Me.”

“Why?”

“You’ll get the answers to your questions.” He glanced to his chest. “Unbutton my shirt.”

Stripe stepped forward, her hand tingling. She reached up, fingers trembling as they touched the fabric. She weaved the buttons through, revealing pale porcelain skin.

“Do it. Across my chest, over the vein,” Isaac said, staring down at her.

Stripe let the coolness of the blade rest on his