Participation Ribbon

Note: This story is a flash fiction adaptation of a longer novelette I'm working on. I'll publish it here when I finish it. For now, please enjoy this flash fiction version:

Entering the elevator, I press number 56. A man with a medical bag scurries in before the door closes. As the elevator ascends, I glare at the green ribbon in my hand.

My sour expression switches over to my phone as it buzzes. Hesitant, I finally answered. "Mom-- I lost-- I did get a participation ribbon, though." My mom yells through the phone. The man and I exchange awkward glances. "I know participation won't protect me, but-- Mom! I'm coming up. Bye."

"Moms." The man chuckled. I smile. The man's hand is now in front of my face. "Hello, Melissa. I'm Daniel." Who? This grown man, twice my size, knows my name? When I eye him up and down he throws his arms in the air. "Ah, don't worry. I used to be one of your mom's many boyfriends. I'm here to visit her."

"Oh." This fool ain't getting back with her. He's just wasting his time. "Well, she doesn't do that, now. She's a strong devoted career woman." I stare down at his medical bag. "She doesn't need to marry a doctor anymore." What the-- Why is he laughing like that? "What's so funny? You're a doctor, right?"

He stops laughing and just smiles. "Technically."

"The hell does that mean?" Stranger danger! Stranger alert! I lean against the door. My eyeballs demand the numbers to go up faster.

He inches closer. "You're 15-years-old. Why don't you tell me?" This creep even knows my age? That's it. Let's see how it feels when I break his groin. "Woah." He grabbed my ankle before I even connected... Okay, let's see if you can deal with a bloody nose-- Ow! "Pulling my hair is a cheap move. Let go."

"Yeah, it is a cheap move. And so. Is. This." He grabs my neck.

"Ahhhh!" I can't move. My neck hurts. Someone. Help. He-- syringe. Can't--

***

Huh? What is this? Pink, fuzzy comforters? Whose bed am I on? Oh, yeah. Doctor in the elevator. Get up. Go get help. Wait, where am I? Why is the room so dark? The only light is from a monitor. Yes! Next to a monitor is a door, which means my way out.

Thank God the wooden floors don't creak, but the smell- uhh. I feel so dizzy and nauseous while tiptoeing over to the door, but I have to get out of here. I glance at the monitor as I turn the door knob... Is that my apartment? My karate lessons are playing on the monitors, too? Oh, hell no. I'm out. Won't even question why the door isn't locked.

Damn. I was hoping for an outside when I opened the door, but all I see is a long creepy hallway and stairs that leads down towards another door.

"Tough girl. I'll take pride in that." Daniel. Where is-- He's at the end of the hallway.

Take the stairs, Melissa. Slide down the railings. Yes! I reached the bottom. Please be the exit. I open and shut the door behind me.

Okay. It's not outside, but there's a very large window across the room. Where the hell am I? Vintage furniture everywhere-- Oh, forget it. Wait... Why does he have pictures of me and my mother all over the walls. This guy has pictures of me when I was a baby. This was taken last week when my mom and I were at the carnival.

Damn. Daniel's a next level serial killer. I can't think about this right now. Melissa run. "Gasp."

Daniel broke the door down, and he has a baseball bat. "Young lady." Lamp. Chuck it, Melissa. Bingo, I got him. He dropped the bat and his nose's bleeding. "Ahh."

This is my chance. The window. "Ow!" Did I just face planted on the floor? And now my nose's bleeding. "Thank you, couch." Quickly, get up.

No.

He's got my leg. "Let go-- (crack) Ahhhhhhh!"

"Try that again, and I'll break you other ankle." Ehhhhh. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. "Don't get me wrong. I admire your efforts, but remember--" Ow! My leg. He dropped my leg. Why? "Participation ribbon."

It hurts. Melissa, crawl. Oh, God. Forget it. Just kill me already.

Don't stroke my hair. "Did you learn your lesson?" No, no. Put me down. "Uhhhh." No. Don't put me on this stupid couch. Just kill me.

***

It's been a few hours. Still on the couch with Daniel. My ankle feels numb. On a small table next to us, he picks up a tiny picture frame. He gazes at it with eyes you'd never guess would break someone's bone and not think twice about it.

Daniel forces the image two inches from my face, then points at it. "Who's that?" My mother on a hospital bed. "Who's she holding?" Me when I was a baby, but I really don't care. This constant needle numbness on my lower leg is too much. How long do I have to suffer? "Now, who's holding your tiny fingers?"

No.

Oh, God, no... Oh, man. He's not going to kill me is he? Great, now I'm crying. He stares at me apologetically. He continues to smile as he lifts me up in a gentle manner. Where was 'this' Daniel when the other one decided to break my ankle? "Don't worry. Daddy will fix your ankle."

My heart is beating faster as a new fear reigns over me. I utter with every last breath, "Please don't hurt me anymore."

With a grin, he whispers, "Then be good."

***

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Who's screaming? I wake up with the fuzzy comforters over me. Sounds like a fight is happening outside of the room. That scream, though... "Mom!"

Throwing the comforter on the floor, I glance back and forth from the door to the cast secured around my ankle. Taking a deep breath, I hop to the door with one foot.

Silence rush over when the door opens. Now, I'm confused. It's been a few days. I maybe going crazy.

A door's slightly open in the middle of the hallway. I limp closer with curiosity. The water pipe banging grows louder.

I peer around the corner. Blood painted the floor while water drips from the faucet. The mix stanches of cadaver and fecal water my eyes. Oh, dear lord Jesus. Please... I shimmy inside the bathroom. I pull the bloody stain curtains back. The unfamiliarity of my mother's body spins time.

I catch myself on the sink before I could fall over. This nightmare. I will not. I will not stay in this nightmare.

"Wake up, Melissa."

I gaze into the cracked mirror. "Am I next?"

Daniel glares from behind. He points towards the door. "Bed."

Hell, no. "What did you do?"

"Now." His stern voice turns even harder. I fold my arms in protest. He unfolds them and gets in my face. "Let's go."

I yank my arm from his grip. "No."

"Melissa, remember your ankle."

"Yep." With my casted ankle, I kick him in the groin. Relief flows through me as Daniel's head bangs on the toilet. I glare over his unconscious body. I smile. "Thank you for your participation."

The End