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

Chapter Twenty-Three

The hunter watched with a growing sense of envy. He saw them from the window, balancing on the arm of the tree just outside her house. Their bodies interlaced; their lips dancing as their hearts raced in unison. She was twirled onto her front, fingers slipping up the bed frame, holding on as her body was being pounded from behind.

The cold sniped at the hunter’s skin like a vindictive lover. He watched as the man pulled her hair back, wrapping the strands around his knuckles. He whispered into her ear, the words making her eyes close tentatively. He sunk his teeth into her neck, grasping her breast in his other hand. The hunter thought about the girl from before and his jealousy transformed into rotten rage. He saw her blonde hair and the shade of her green eyes.

His eyes, he thought.

The flashbacks were painful like lightning zapping down the middle of his skull.

You stole my future from me...

Part Three

Before you embark on your journey of revenge, dig two graves.

-Confucius

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fall 1994

“Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country’s cause,” the little boy recited, hugging his teddy bear to his chest. “There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.” He held the toy, one of his button eyes had gone missing. “I think this place is haunted, Teddy. I hear sounds, voices at night. What do you think?” He pushed the head forwards, making the neck flop up and down. “Phew, then I’m not the only one. I knew you could hear them too.”

The boy walked along the corridors. Monday to Fridays consisted of pain, injections and trials with the occasional hours of school depending on the schedules of the staff. Weekends were his favourite. Everything around him was quiet. Normally life in this place was like a hive - swarming and buzzing with activity, people in white coats pacing back and forth clutching clipboards, others in black and green brandishing guns and wearing masks. Maybe they’d seen the ghost. They must have known the place was haunted too which was why they were so guarded.

The boy walked past the conservatory, one of his favourite places to wander. He enjoyed looking at the trees, gazing up at the foamy clouds in the sky, wondering if they felt like cotton wool. He wasn’t able to go outside unaccompanied, one of the people in black and green had to be with him at all times. He noticed the top of the fences outside had doubled with the amount of curled barbed wire, he didn’t understand the rising security measures in this place. Were there monsters outside? Was the lumberjack not patrolling? Was he protecting them?

“A small rock holds back a great wave,” the boy uttered.

Homer was one of his favourite writers, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what the sentences meant, but they sounded pretty and intelligent to say out loud. It was on their agenda, so he had to know them off by heart.

He continued up the corridor and stopped outside the office. Peter was leaning over his desk, scribbling on his notepad. Now and then, he’d wipe his glasses with a dark blue hand towel. He always kept it in the right pocket. Sometimes he’d speak into a small black rectangular device, the boy wondered about its function. He preferred it when Sheila was here on the weekends, she’d let him stroll, as long as it wasn’t everywhere. Gerald didn’t say much, he shuffled around, keeping his eyes to the ground. The boy hated Paul and Victoria, they never had time for him, sneering through their noses as if he was a scuttling bug. The boy learned to stay in his room, read his books and watch movies, keeping clear out of their way, or he’d receive a slap or punch for breaking protocol.

The boy swung his teddy bear by the arm, continuing his walk down the corridor. He ignored some doors; he didn’t want to spend his free time daunting over the upcoming week. He was about to head back to his room when he heard something.

“The ghost!” He puppeted the bear’s head. “You heard it too, Teddy!”

The boy ran to the source of the noise, it was getting louder, one voice grew into two, the other lighter than the other. Was somebody else here? He thought he heard the sounds of a child. He pushed a door open, dropping his toy on the ground.

He hadn’t seen this room before. It was colourful, bright and wonderful. Rainbow stripes painted across the walls with toy giraffes and elephants hanging from the ceiling. He stared at two children; their youthful gazes filled with curiosity. A little boy and girl stood in a crib in the centre of the room. They were so small; they wouldn’t have been able to climb out without help. Big identical brown eyes peered through the wooden panelling, each of their hands reaching out for him, babbling about his fallen teddy bear. The boy didn’t know what to do, an instinct wanted to reach forward and touch their tiny hands. He wanted to know their names.

The boy heard Peter calling; his body was pulled backwards; his feet dragged across the shiny floor. An arm reached over his nose, pulling the door shut so he couldn’t see the young boy and girl. Peter said his name angrily again, shaking him by the shoulders.

“You’re not supposed to be in there,” Peter leered. “You know this.”

“I thought they were ghosts,” the boy said. “But they’re real, just like me. They don’t carry chains or hide in white blankets. Who are they?”

“None of your business.”

“But-”

“You don’t ask what you don’t understand, Izzie. You’re not old enough yet. Do I make myself clear?”

“I’m sorry,” the boy uttered.

“No, it’s - I’m sorry, what?”

He hated calling him that, it didn’t feel natural. Peter was never dressed like a military officer. He didn’t have medals either. “I’m sorry,