I learned that the scene in the cornfield happens every hour, like some sick and demented clock. After watching the scene for the second time I decided to explore a little bit. It couldn’t be that bad, all the time, right? I wandered into what looked like Fletcher’s room. It had a larger four poster bed and a desk in the corner. There was an old fashioned TV in the opposite corner. I sat on his bed and enjoyed the smell that seemed to waft down from the air vents. It was a mixture of cherries and something rather metallic scented. The TV flicked on all by itself. I watched the grainy scene come to life. It was a dark building, a warehouse perhaps. There were people inside all of them dancing. I instantly recognized it. I knew where that was. I would be standing in the corner with a coke in my hands. Sure enough a younger me with bland blond hair stood in the corner, the red solo cup in my hands was shaking. I couldn’t remember why I had gone to that party. But it haunted me everyday. A large boy stumbled into me and knocked the cup all over me. I yelped at the sudden cold that spread all over me. He muttered something that was supposed to be a sorry. I bolted out into the alleyway hoping to find something, I had no clue what, but something. I wondered down the alley when there was a scream from behind me. I turned to see a girl, I had known from school, crumple to the ground. Kim, that was her name. Crimson poured from her neck. Her gray eyes were now cold and lifeless. Then there was something cold and metal pressed against my cheek. A man with dirty scruff and a drunken smirk plastered to his face held the knife to my face. He nicked my face quickly before moving it to my rib cage. I felt the blood drip down my face. I didn’t dare move. He seemed to chuckle. He poked me in the ribs and it hurt but only a little. Then he was gone. The TV flicked off. I knew my face was pale. My hand instinctively went to the scar on my rib where the knife had cut me. I never told anyone about that. I thought I had imagined it yet I still had the scars.
“That was the first day I ever saw you,” A voice whispered in my ear. I jumped and turned and saw Fletcher standing behind me. “I thought it was interesting how you didn’t move at all. You were so calm with a dead girl. You didn’t flinched when he cut you. It was right about then that I knew you would be fine here,” he explained.
“I never told anyone about that. I thought I was going crazy,” I whispered. “But I still have the scars.”
“One above your eighth rib on the right side. You didn’t got to a doctor to get it fixed. It was infected for two weeks before you tried to fix it yourself,” Fletcher said. The TV turned on again and there I was in the bathroom attempting to sew it up myself. I had Googled how to sew yourself up. I found it sad that you could Google something like that and get over a million hits. There was blood on the floor and and I was crying. But I did eventually sew it up. I told my mom the blood on the floor was hair dye from a failed attempt to die it red. I also told her that it didn’t work out very well so I decided to dye it Purple. “The one on your cheek faded quickly. You told your mom that you fell.”
“Is life in here always this horrible?” I had to ask him.
“You’ll get used to it. Now come on, dinners ready.” Fletcher lead me down to the dining room. The walls were a dark Mahogany. A huge and grand chandelier hung over a table, set for twelve. But only two seats actually had food in front of them. Fletcher took his seat at the head of the table and I sat to his right. A burger sat in front of me. I ate it quietly. Fletcher didn’t talk either. He ate a raw piece of steak like it was the best thing in the world. This place just kept on getting weirder and weirder…