The Collection

Chapter 3

        I wake up and groggily rub my eyes.
        My eyes...
        I immediately jump out of bed, pull on some clothes, run to the kitchen, grab the candy bars from my shopping bag that I hid under the counter, and hurry downstairs. I head to my corner and flick on the lamp. A couple of the Incompletes start to wake up, mumbling and trying to stretch. I carefully open the door to the crawlspace, hoping beyond hope that Cara is still there.
        I let out a breath when I see her sleeping under the blanket. "Cara," I whisper, gently shaking her shoulders.
        Her eye pops open, and so does her mouth. She's about to scream when I cover her mouth. "Shh! It's me - Kiara. Remember?"
        She nods, and I uncover her mouth. "Kiara, my eye still hurts," she says.
        "Well, hopefully, that's normal, right?" I peel off the bandage covering her eye and wince. The skin around it is caked with blood. Her eyelid is swollen and bruised, and her eye is bright red; the blood vessels in it have burst. The iris and pupil have a milky sheen to them. The eyeball looks squished, and has quite obviously fallen out of the socket.
        A tear squeezes out from Cara's working eye. "It's not good, is it?"
        I sigh. "No, it isn't." I grab my flashlight from its hook on the wall of the crawlspace. "Can you close your good eye for me?" She complies, and I shine the flashlight in her bad eye. "Cara, can you see anything?"
        She whimpers and shakes her head. "No."
        I turn the flashlight off. "Wait here, then." I stand up and open the crawlspace door.
        "What are you doing?" she asks, sitting up.
        "We don't want it to get infected." I slip out of the crawlspace, close the door, and run upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. I go to Dad's workroom and get his scoop, and then I stop in the bathroom and grab a cotton ball, Q-tip, and fresh bandage. I run back downstairs and duck into the crawlspace, where Cara sees my supplies and promptly bursts into tears.
        "What are you gonna do?" she asks, sobbing.
        I hold her head with one hand and the scoop with the other. "I'm going to remove your eye. I'm afraid... I'm afraid that it has no use anymore." Holding the flashlight in my teeth, I lightly scrape at the surface of her right eye. "Do you feel that?" I ask, speaking through the flashlight.
        Cara shakes her head. "The pain is further in, I think."
        I dig a bit deeper into her eye, and hear her sharp intake of breath. "Try to ignore the pain," I say. "I'm sorry." I press harder with the scoop and pull it towards me, scooping out most of her eye. Cara cries out, and I hiss at her. "Do you want my dad to find you?"
        She whimpers, and I immediately feel bad. "Sorry." I use the Q-tip to take out the rest of the eyeball, and then I stuff the cotton ball in the socket. I stick the bandage on over that, and sit back. "We're done," I tell her. "You were very brave."
        Cara lets out a breath, and I can see she's crying. "Ow," she says through her tears. She giggles.
        I take out a KitKat from my pile of candy and unwrap it. I hand it to her. "Here you-" I begin, but she's already halfway done with it before I can finish my sentence.
        "Mmm.." she groans. "Thank you."
        I lay her back down and put the blanket back over her. "You should probably get some rest," I say. She pops the rest of the chocolate in her mouth, chews, swallows, and nods. I turn off the flashlight, return it to its hook on the wall, and pick up the Q-tip and scoop. Then I exit the crawlspace and close the door behind me. I head upstairs and rinse the scoop out in the sink. Luckily, Dad's not out here.
        Wait a second.
        Dad's not out here.
        I toss the Q-tip in the trash and run down the hall to Dad's room.
        He's not there.
        My breath catches in my throat and I go to his workroom. There he is, standing over a young boy, chopping his fingers off.
        "Dad, wait!" I yell, jogging into the room.
        Dad smiles. "Oh! Hi there, Kiara! Do you want to finish up?"
        I nod, and slowly walk over. The boy looks to be about 8. Dad has chopped off all of the fingers on his right hand, and the little finger on his left. I wave Dad out of the room. "You don't need to supervise me. Go on."
        "Okay, honey. I'm so proud of you!" Dad gives me a grin and then walks out of the room.
        The second he leaves, I grab a roll of bandages from a drawer and wrap the boy's right hand, and part of his left. Then I hoist him up onto my shoulders and run as quickly as I can to the basement, down the stairs, and over to my corner. I open the crawlspace door and get inside.
        Cara's sitting up. "Oh my god, who is THAT?" she whispers.
        "I don't know! My dad was cutting off his fingers when I got there and stopped him." I put the boy down, and place a pillow under his head.
        He stirs, and his eyes open. When his gaze finds mine, his eyes grow wide. I put my hand over his mouth, but a searing pain radiates from my finger. I yelp and pull it away. It's bleeding. The boy is screaming, and I wrap my hand in a blanket and cover his mouth. "Be quiet! Please! I know you're scared, but please stop screaming! My dad is the one that did this to you, and if you keep shrieking, he'll find you here and hurt you more!"
        The boy wrenches his head away and glares at me. "What did your dad do to me?" he asks. "He must have knocked me out for something."
        I glance at his hand, and he follows my gaze. "Oh my gosh!" he exclaims, when he sees the blood soaking through it. "He cut off my hand!"
        I shush him. "No, just your fingers. But listen to me: You NEED to stay quiet! I'm hiding you in a secret room, and if my dad finds you, he'll hurt you even worse." I grab a candy bar from the pile and give it to him. "What's your name?"
        "Kenny," he says, inspecting the candy. He gives a satisfied nod and unwraps it, biting off a large piece.
        I take the wrapper from him and put it in the corner. "Okay, Kenny. This is Cara-" I point to Cara. "-and I'm Kiara."
        Kenny finishes the chocolate and licks his remaining fingers. Then he lies down. "I'm tired," he whispers.
        "That's good." I pull the blanket over him. "Get some rest. If you wake up, you can eat some of that candy. Just don't eat too much or you'll get a stomachache. Whatever you do, don't leave this crawlspace. I'll bring down some books or something later, okay?"
        But Kenny is already fast asleep. I glance at Cara, and she is, too; her arm flung protectively over the boy.
        I smile and quietly leave the crawlspace. I've saved two kids in the last two days - now all I have to do is help everyone escape.