Glass

"Ha! Really? You, sending me off to a therapists office for hours?" Isabelle sneers, smiling viciously. Isabelle loves this view. Oh, how the look of shock on an adult is like a five course meal for her. 

"Yes. Yes, you're going to sit your ass down in a chair and talk to a therapist for hours." Her aunt says, her gaze turning into a glare as she looks Isabelle up and down. 

"Don't get nasty with me, missy." She says, whipping her head around to the cabinet, grabbing the knives out and walking out the front door.

 Aw, I can't let her take my fun away, now can I?

Smirking, Isabelle stand up, off the couch, and trails after her aunt. 

"Oh auntie, I just can't do this. This is so cruel, sending me off. I'll go crazy!" Isabelle says sarcastically, adding on a groan afterwards to add as much annoyance as possible. 

"You're already crazy, Isabelle." Her aunt says, rolling her eyes.

Isabelle sighs, checking her nails in a bored-manner.

"This is no fun. Can you at least make it sooner? Maybe there's some handsome psychopaths there I can mingle with..." Isabelle says, shifting her weight, rubbing the back of her aching neck.

Her aunt sets down the knives, and stomps dirt from the pots on the porch over them.

"I'm not going out of my way for you, Isabelle." Her aunt mutters, sounding more breathy right now. The sound of a door opening and closing is heard from the living room, and her aunt ushers her to far left of the porch.

Isabelle clicks her tongue, hearing her aunt run to the living room and change her tone to a sickeningly sweet, innocent voice for the person. Gazing out along the trees, birds flock and sing, and some flop dead to the ground; where they can rot into the beautiful mush with maggots for Isabelle's enjoyment.

The air was thick with smoke, and the rest of the houses in the town had illuminating candles and pumpkins on their porches and window sills. Little remnants of charcoal reminded her of the massive wooden bonfire that happened last night. It's stupid heat overtook her room.

The living room... well, the shop, is where Isabelle's aunt does her buisness. It's completely enclosed from the rest of the house. Little glass wind chimes decorate the inside of the shop, full of cheap price tags. The tackiness was on overload.

Clack, clack.. clack.... stop.. clack... clack.. clack...

Some horses were carrying a cage out in the trees that brimmed the dead carcasses of the birds. At closer look, she realized it was a cage with shop supplies for the main street that was more to the East of this town. Then, Isabelle had an idea.

What if.... she found a way to catch a ride with one of them? Straight to main street. She could run away there.

Isabelle's feet unconsciously started moving to her closet to grab a bag. Stuffing some clothes in, Isabelle hurried out to the porch again.

It's just 2 stories.

One foot on the railing.

It's just 2.

Other foot.

Go

Isabelle leaps off with scary precision to a rock. Swerving to the side best she could, Isabelle's hip felt like utter crap to say the least. An aching, hushed groan of frustration seethed through her lips as she tries to at least get onto all fours before shakily standing up. She walked, then jogged, then sprinted through the grass, weaving between trees until she reached one of the cages. Clambering into the back of one, she shuts it and lets the rocking humble her hips which felt like loose marbels in a broken jar. Little glass trinkets slammed against her shins and her thighs from inside. The smell of cigarettes decorated the atmosphere, presumably from a smoking man up front who was steering the animals.

Faster, move faster! I need to get to the city! Now...

Her thoughts were so demanding, it felt like it would make sense for her to actually go insane. But it was all part of an act. Well... she tried to keep it an act. But she was actually going a bit crazy now. She would drop stuff, not comply with what her aunt wanted, and sometimes, when she felt like even the light of God wasn't enough, she would hurt herself on her upper shins because she always covered those, and it would be too noticeable on her wrists. It might also trouble her in writing, and she knew she had to get all A's if she wants her aunt to be at least sane with her. That's all she knew. Maybe, it meant she wasn't insane. Maybe it did. But she grew up thinking it was, and her mindset was too jumbled to care if it was or not. She was getting out of that hellhole physically. Even though the iron of the cage felt like it was going to rip her skin, she was getting out! That's what mattered to her.

Clack... clack.. clack... stop.

Clang.

Clang?

Isabelle instantly scooted back, and when the sound of muffled coughing and a large slamming against the walls in the front of the cage made it to her ears, Isabelle didn't hesitate to squeeze her eyes shut.

"Hand over the cage of supplies. We need money." A rough, demanding voice said outside the cage to the driver. After about 2 seconds, the entire cage was being lifted.

With her inside.

Oh, what fresh bloody hell did you get into this time, Isabelle?

Isabelle couldn't help but be snarky to herself even though her body was in full panic mode. The glass sometimes got brittle in corners and would cut her skin, causing it to bleed. Due to her aunt's nighttime prosperity prayers; as to which she forced Isabelle to join into, her skin was fragile and thin from the gallons of water and products slapped on to her body every day. That meant she also felt like a thousand needles were getting jammed into her body. Squirming slightly, Isabelle tried to deal with the awful sensation that was currently tugging at her willpower to stay silent.

10 minutes... 20 minutes... 30 minutes... 45.. 56...

Finally, the cage was set down. It took Isabelle too long to realize that she was probably dead meat if someone saw her in there.

But- maybe... maybe I could injure herself? Make it look like it was a crime scene?

Isabelle reluctantly agreed with those thoughts. Hand searching around in the prodding glass pieces, she found one big enough to cause some damage. Clasping it as carefully as possible so her hands couldn't get injured, thus helping it look like it wasn't from her, she dragged it along and then into her thighs and stomach. It stung like high hell, and she had to grit her teeth to not make a noise. After some minutes, she let the glass rub against her shirt to get rid of evidence and she set it down a fair amount away. Closing her eyes and leaning back against the rough iron cage walls, she tried to look unconscious for any possible eyes.

Shift... scratch.. shhh... nmmm..

The sounds of the tarp sliding over and off the cage threatened to give her goosebumps. It sounded like a fork against a chalkboard. She heard no surprised gasps, only a grunt of what seemed to be a young tween boy who was surprised. Then, the voice called out for someone.

"Levon! Mr.Levon.. - ... sorry sir.." The young tween voice said, as if talking to a boss. It took a while, and the glass felt like high hell beneath her from the other glass trinkets from the start. The footsteps of the boy seemed to jump off the back of the carriage the cage remained in, and the tween headed to the front, where the driver could be. We were probably at the city, right? It's been 56 long minutes of overwhelming discomfort for Isabelle. Heavy footsteps, almost too heavy, jumped off the front and seemed to plow their way to the cage. Isabelle probably looked like a hell-bent damsel in distress.

"What is this?" A low, confused voice asks, and the tween answered.

"I just- saw the woman there! I don't now, Mr. Levon!" The boy answers, sounding faint from the drivers area. A sigh escapes what seems to be the older man's lips, and heavy hands poke at her shins.

Shit.. that hurts..

Isabelle battles with herself mentally to not jump as the finger prods at her bone, pushing against the muscle and small amount of fat, from her lack of eating. After so long of this, she felt a warm hand press against her lower stomach.

"Bring me a towel, or some thick fabric.." The voice, Mr. Leven apparently, instructs.

"I taught you this before, kid! You check the luggage before a long trip. Now we have a woman who's bleeding with scattered glass digging into her skin." The low voice adds on in a frustrated tone.

Scratch the boss and worker, this must be mentor and student. God, are they part of some criminal thing? They seem used to this..

Isabelle hears the shuffling of footsteps before a warm towel is pressed and dabbing her stomach from above the clothes, and all she could hear is the sounds of birds, some glass falling out into a bin, maybe the kid was cleaning up the remains? Some breathing was faintly heard too. It sounded trained; trained to be quiet. The man, most likely. Some of the fingers of Mr. Levon would bend and pull up or down with the towel to catch for blood, or at least to make the sight better to keep some parts of the towel not a dark red. Isabelle was surprised with herself that she could keep her eyes closed for so long. Maybe it was the lack of sleep? Thank God the bag she chose was small, it would probably look like a purse. She felt it slinged over her left arm. But, something felt wrong. Her eyelids willingly got heavier.

So... goddamn.. stop... heavy... no.. don't lose consc-

Before she knew it, Isabelle was out cold. From the blood loss or her bad sleeping schedule, she'd never know.