Page 5 of The Watched

now running through her head. Michelle had paid for her crime, now it was Brenda's turn.

  “So what are you gonna do to me?” Brenda asked. Knowing death was coming, just hoping that it wasn't going to be too painful. However, it was a relief that it would soon be over. There was no answer from the man at the door. She waited in silence for the man to say something, anything. Suddenly the lights went out, and the figured was no longer there.

  She walked to the open door, and the vehicle was now unoccupied.

  “Where are you?” She screamed into the night. “You're supposed to take me!” She stood there, shocked and confused, waiting for the painful death she was still sure was coming.

  After standing there for several minutes, waiting, she turned back and slowly headed back to the cabin. She no longer had any desire to leave, and no desire to live. If that man, or whatever he was, wasn't going to take her life she'd have to.

  She reentered the cabin, and looked around for something to end her existence with. She found a rope and decided that hanging herself would do well. She tied a noose after several tries, and threw the rope into the rafters in the ceiling. She climbed on the back of the couch, slid the rope around her neck, took one final look at Michelle, whispered “I love you” and stepped of the couch. With her feet still six inches from the ground, her legs shook, and her breath left her. She struggled for breath, and was still slightly breathing. Maybe she did it wrong. She swung her legs and her feet found the couch. She stood and let herself out of the noose.

  The glass, she thought confused by her previous failure, and went to the bathroom to retrieve the thing that had caused Michelle's death. She grabbed a large piece of broken glass from the floor, and returned to the couch. She sat up against it, again looked at Michelle one final time, and drug the shard across her wrist, feeling the pain and seeing blood immediately, she drug the piece across her other wrist. Dropping the glass, she laid her head back and waited for the sweet release.

  The release never came, the pain was still there, but the blood had stopped. She looked at her wrists confused. She was sure she had cut deep enough, yet the blood had quit flowing. With her wrists still in pain, she decided to try another method. Knowing it would be painful, but it would do the job, she decided to light herself on fire. She went to the fire place, and built the fire back up. About five minutes later she had a nice fire roaring, she stuck a rag into the flames and let it catch. Once the rag caught, she hesitantly placed the rag on her shirt and watched it go up. The pain was excruciating, and she started to scream. Her clothes continued to burn, and she felt the pain, but nothing seemed to be happening to her body.

  As her clothes began to smolder she checked her skin, and found no burn marks, but felt like she had been burned from head to toe. The only sign her body showed of being burnt was that her hair was gone. Not understanding what was going on, she fell to the floor and just cried.

  “It won't work Brenda.” Spoke the gruff voice that seemed to come from everywhere. “With your friend taking your punishment, we felt that death would let you off too easy, no matter how painful it would be. So we decided that your punishment must be different. Ever since you met, you have depended on Michelle for everything. We decided that it seemed fit to make you live without her. You will feel the pain of everything, including your suicide attempts, but you will not die. You will grow old, you will not have a happy life. You will feel all pain to the fullest, and you will do it alone.” The voice faded off, and as it said, Brenda was alone.

  The information was too much for her to take, and she started to cry again. She sobbed for hours and cried herself to sleep. When she awoke, she was hoping it was all just a bad dream, but looking up she saw that Michelle was still dead, and she was still alone. Alone, she would be alone forever.

 
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