Unfamiliar Territory
Chapter 22: Nothing Left to Lose

Dr. Quincy let Mr. Mallard and I have the living room to ourselves. The way he showed us in--avoiding eye contact, telling us to take our time--it was more like he was the guest than we were. Some of the kids--mostly Gust, Maple, and the twins--attempted to argue to stay, but their father was more firm with them and shooed them all out. He shot Mr. Mallard and I one final glance before closing the two large, wooden doors behind him.

Like most of the rooms in the cabin, the living room was large and it had tall and wide windows that opened up to the scenic mountainside. There were several cushiony chairs and couches strewn around to make the room feel cozier with a fireplace that remained unlit.

When Mr. Mallard situated himself into one of the chairs, I was reminded of his ‘office’. I grimaced.

“Would you care to sit down?” he asked, gesturing to one of the chairs beside him, watching me.

“Why don’t you try making me?”

His wrinkled face formed a deep frown. “I do not think that will be necessary. It was merely an offer.”

I folded my arms, looked down on him. He stared back up at me, frown still firmly planted. “How about we begin where we left off during our last conversation-?”

“Oh, right, you mean when I was throwing up blood?”

“I was not aware of the injuries on your back. I had a discussion with Mr. Copper, who you would remember was the one who brought you in to me, and he said it did not look as bad as it was. Regardless, that was not what I was referring to.”

Mr. Mallard reached over to a small table beside the chair and picked up a cup of tea that I swore wasn’t there before. “I was referring to this.”

“You son of a—”

“Drink it.”

I stared into the brown liquid. It was lighter than last time. Maybe hazelnut. I could smell it--sweet yet bitter. Terrible.

He held the cup out to me. I reached out towards it.

When my hand was inches away from the cup, the growl escaped from behind my lips. Before Mr. Mallard could react, I smacked the cup out of his grasp and then gripped his throat with one hand.

His eyes bulged from behind the glasses and I stared into the glowering face reflected in them as the cup smashed against the hard wood floor. “You’re running out of cups, Mallard,” I hissed.

“Foxy—”

“That’s not my name!” I shouted over him.

He gripped my arm with both of his hands. He was strong, but I was stronger.

“I’m done being told what to do. Do you understand? I’m done!”

The doors to the living room burst open. I heard Dr. Quincy gasp before his heavy footsteps began to echo in the room.

“Stay back, Quinn!” I shouted at him, eyes still locked with Mallard’s. “This doesn’t involve you.”

Mallard was gasping for breath as his grip on my arm weakened. The footsteps stopped coming.

“Alex, please don’t do this-!”

“I’M DONE BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO!”

I screamed it as I shot my head to Dr. Quincy.

Whatever I had to say next caught in my throat.

Dr. Quincy stood only a few feet away. Maple, Gust, and all their siblings stood in the doorway behind him, eyes wide and faces pale. My grip on Mr. Mallard’s throat loosened and his deep intakes of air brought me back to him.

“You...rabid...beast...” he gasped, holding his bruised throat as he breathed.

He was so close to death. I had seen the light fading from his eyes when I held his throat shut. I stared down at the hand. It twitched as I felt the bile rise in my throat.

I had almost killed him. I was hoping to kill him.

“Alex, it’s going to be alright,” Dr. Quincy said slowly, hands raised, inching towards me.

“Dad! Stay away from the fox!” Gust shouted, running in front of his father. “He’s the enemy!”

The always brave boy was trembling as he stood between me and Dr. Quincy. His eyes were big and watery.

I took a step towards them, and all at once he broke down, his face fell, and he screamed. I thought he was about to attack me, but instead he turned and held his father before crying fiercely into his leg.

“Daddy! Don’t let him hurt me!” He sobbed. “Please, don’t let the fox hurt me!”

I wanted to pretend he was acting. Trying to turn his family against me. But Gust didn’t trick, didn’t lie. He wore his emotions on his sleeve.

That must have been why his screams and sobs tore into me the way they did.

Dr. Quincy placed a hand on his son’s head before he looked up to me. I saw fear, but I also saw that cold certainty I had seen in Kat’s eyes before.

He would try to kill me if he had to, and he wouldn’t think twice about it.

When I looked to the other kids, trying to just find one that understood--that sympathized--they all flinched.

Trout began to wail. Meadow started crying too--but quieter--her tears streaming down her cheeks. The twins held them--Lilly had a look equal to her father’s while Leaf was shouting something at me that I couldn’t hear anymore.

It all went silent when my eyes met Maple’s. She stared at me, but it wasn’t me anymore that she was seeing.

I was just a threat to her family. A monster. The enemy.

Her dark eyes glared straight through me.

“You did this to me!” I turned and shouted at Mr. Mallard. “I had a normal life, I had a family, I was happy and you took that all away! I don’t want this! I don’t want any of this! You had no right to do any of this to me!”

Mr. Mallard watched me, his glasses askew but breathing much more controlled. His hand still held the bruised throat. “I realize now it was a mistake to bring you into this,” he said, the soft voice and the commanding voice both gone--replaced by a bubbling, burning fire, “but as I’ve said, it’s too late for regrets--for anyone. There is no going back for you, Foxy.”

“My name is Alex!” I cried. “Its Alex...”

Alex...

The room wasn’t there anymore. No one was there anymore. It was all silent. All quiet. I was alone.

Mr. Mallard seemed to catch on immediately as he tried to rise from the chair. “Now, Alex--”

A void. That’s all there was. Nothingness.

“Alex what?”

Mr. Mallard stopped when he stood up and did not speak.

In an instant, I was upon him--gripping his shoulders, searching into his big blue eyes.

“Alex what?”

“Mr. Mallard, you didn’t tell him-!”

“Silence, Quinn!” Mr. Mallard snapped before glaring back at me. “Listen to me, beast, there is nothing left of your old life--nothing left for you to dwell over or concern yourself with. The tea I’ve been having you drink--the one that has been keeping you alive--is the same one that has been slowly removing your memories. By this time, you will not remember who your friends were, your family, even your own full name. Do you understand me, child? Even if you still have the desire to escape this, there is nowhere left for you to run to-!”

He had more to say, but I did not want to hear it. I threw Mr. Mallard into his chair and he toppled back with a shout. Dr. Quincy made for me, but Gust still clung to his leg, crying for him not to go.

“Alex, it’s going to be alright, okay? We will figure something out; this isn’t the end of the world. Let’s just take things slow and not do anything you’ll later regret.”

I looked back at him. Hand outstretched, his black eyes warm and inviting. His child still clinging--still crying.

He really looked like a father. I tried to imagine that my father looked something like him. But I couldn’t remember.

Did I ever even care about him? Or mom? I had abandoned them with their suffering. I should have seen the signs. I should have never talked to Mutt. I should have never fallen in love with Kat. But...

“It’s too late for regrets,” I said, tears escaping from the corners of my eyes.

Then, a door opened.

I looked to the wall of the living room where there should not be a door. Yet, there it was--a door, opened, with Mr. Copper standing in the doorway.

He was at first cautious, then confused, then, when his eyes fell on me, very surprised.

I hunched down and raced forward as Mr. Mallard and Dr. Quincy both shouted at the same time.

“Stop him!”

“Alex, don’t!”

Mr. Copper tried to react. He tried to reach for something in his oversized coat, maybe his gun, but I was too fast.

I slipped into the small space under his arm, elbowing him along the way enough to send him into the doorframe, and ran.

I ran through a tight hallway, with numerous closed doors on all sides. I shoved aside a woman with dark skin and an apron as we both rounded a corner on opposite ends. I heard her shriek as she fell, but I did not look back.

I raced down stairs at the end of the hall, pushing aside a few very surprised and outraged men in suits along the way. The stairs went down several stories but I eventually made it to a door with large red letters that said EMERGENCY EXIT.

I ignored the violent ringing in my ears as I burst through the door. People paused and stared at me, others screamed, and still others I had to shove aside.

I was running down a sidewalk, past pastry shops, book stores, coffee shops. I didn’t think about how weird I might’ve looked--wearing only shorts with no shirt or shoes. I only thought about escape. I did not look back.

I caught sight of trees just at the end of the sidewalk. I ran past more people and narrowly avoided cars that blared their horns as I crossed the street.

There were hardly any trees. After I ran through a few, I was already on the other side.

I was in a park. The park. I did not stop to look around. I only continued to run. I had to get away. I had to get away.

I ran through the park, past more frightened people and excited dogs.

A fountain was coming into view with a big stone fish squirting out water from their mouths, when I was caught.

My catcher attempted to jump on my back and grab me by the throat. But the force was too strong and too surprising. I fell--hard, and my assailant fell forward, losing their grip and tumbling into the shallow waters of the fountain.

I hissed at the pain in my palms and knees as I tried to stand. They were cut and bloodied. The person in the pond stood up.

My assailant wore track pants, a hoodie, and a scarf. Very out of place for the weather, but it did do a good job at keeping me from seeing who it was.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted at him and attempted to turn and run again, but a grip on my wrist stopped me.

I looked back and saw the hooded guy. He had moved in the blink of an eye. This close, and I still couldn’t even see his eyes through the tangle of brown hair. But I knew he was one of them.

“Let me go!”

I smacked him with my free hand before he could do anything. I meant for it to be hard, but he fell to the ground more violently than I anticipated. And then he did not move.

Oh, god.

I heard a gasp. I looked around and saw people. Men, women, children. A handful of people had already gathered around us. There were calls for help- moms held their hands over children’s eyes, grown men were shouting at me.

Not again.

There was another surprised exclamation. I looked back and saw the hooded one standing back up and just a few feet from my face.

I went to strike him again, but he ducked and swept his leg across the ground, knocking me off my feet. I hit the cobblestone path and pain jolted out from my elbow.

The hooded one had to back up as two of the older men in the crowd tried to detain him. Effortlessly, he ducked under a pair of arms from one of them while sending a kick into his companion’s stomach. The latter fell to the ground, moaning, while the former tried again. The hooded one grabbed him by his wrists and, spreading his arms out, sent his head up into the man’s chin. It looked equally brutal on both sides, but it was the man who fell to the ground, unmoving.

I took my chance and got to my feet and started running. No one stopped me. I didn’t have to look back to know the hooded man was hot on my heels. I could feel his unseen eyes on me.

I had to get somewhere, but I didn’t know where. I had to find help, but I didn’t know from whom. The people here would be no match for him. They were normal.

Then, the answer came to me.

I stopped running. I turned and saw the hooded one had stopped as well. We stood a few feet apart. Not moving. Watching each other.

“If you won’t let me go, I will take you down,” I swore, my voice sounding more confident then I felt. Or was it?

I felt angry, but I also felt strong. I put fear into Dr. Quincy, a man almost twice my size. Why should I be afraid of someone half my size? The hooded one stood firm and silent to my threat, but when I took a step forward I saw him flinch.

That was all I needed.

I lurched forward. He fell back. I reached out to grab him. He grabbed the wrist, but I was anticipating that. I felt a strong blow into my stomach from his free fist, but I held firm and, pulling his arm towards me, I sunk my teeth into the exposed flesh on his wrist.

There was a grunt of pain before another strong blow into my shoulder forced me to let go. I stumbled back, and he moved forward on me.

I tried to strike him, but he easily maneuvered below the punches and sent a firm elbow into my stomach. I nearly threw up as the force of the blow, coupled with the pain from the previous strike to my gut, sent me flying back onto my backside.

I hacked up saliva and struggled for breath as I gripped my burning stomach. I glanced up and saw the hooded one standing there, waiting.

“I won’t let you take me,” I wheezed, struggling to stand. He came at me again, striking me in the chest with his foot and sending me on my back.

I gasped for air. It felt like my heart had burst from my ribs. I clutched my bare chest and stared up into the sky as I listened the shouts of the useless people.

It was such a blue sky. Not a cloud in sight.

The hooded one’s concealed face came into view. I watched as it began to lower down towards me. A tendril of brown hair escaped the hood and tickled my nose.

A heavy and painful heart beat rang out from the fire in my chest.

This was Mutt, all over again. Capturing me, defeating me, going in for the kill.

Only this time, there was no Mr. Mallard to save me. There was only me.

Before he got any closer, I swiped out at his face. He let out a cry as the nails tore through the clothing and then through flesh. Something wet splashed me as he gripped his face and stumbled backwards.

But it wasn’t a he.

That cry of pain, it did not sound male, not in the slightest. In fact, it sounded all too familiar.

I sat up and saw Mary standing there in her hoody and sweatpants, gripping a cheek that was bleeding heavily from beneath the remains of the scarf. She stared at me with big brown eyes, her face as pale as a ghost.

“Oh, god, Mary,” I reached out to her and saw the blood that stained the tips of my fingernails. I stared in disbelief. My nails hadn’t been cut for a few weeks, but they cut her like knives.

“Go. You need to go,” Mary said, falling to her knees, tearing her eyes away from me.

“I’m so sorry, Mary. I’m so—”

“Just go, Alex!” she cried. She was glaring at me now, tears pooling with the blood on her face as she continued to hold the ragged remains of the scarf against her wounded cheek. “I’m only in control of myself right now because of the pain, but once if fades I’m going to try to stop you again!”

“You can come with me,” I pleaded, crawling towards her. “We can go together!”

I stopped when a gunshot rang out. Loud. Silencing.

I stopped crawling. I looked from the new hole in the ground, only a few inches away from my hand, to Mary who had a gun pointed at my head.

“Please, Alex...” she said, tears pouring from her eyes. I winced as she pulled the hammer back of the gun with a firm click. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I stood up slowly, only breaking eye contact at the sounds of people again. Another group of them was forming not far away. The sounds of sirens could be heard nearby and were getting louder by the second.

Mary had her gun still trained on me, keeping it pointed at my head as I moved. “Hurry,” she said, the weapon shaking in her hand. “I can’t keep it back.”

I let my own tears fall before I turned and ran. No matter how strong I was, how much I tried to change, there was still nothing I could do to escape this nightmare.

Another gunshot rang out as something whizzed past my ear.

I ran faster as people shouted.

Another gunshot.

I almost fell as a sudden, intense pain resonated from my thigh--but I kept running.

I looked back one last time as I was leaving the park. There were cars. I didn’t know what kind they were, but they seemed to be the ones ringing out the loud siren sounds. Blue and red colors danced from them and onto the trees and the gathering of people.

Mary was gone, and when the men came out of the cars, wielding guns of their own, I looked away.

Nothing good came from those things.

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