Summary: When the corrupt staff of Concord Middle School has banded together with an evil force, the Concord alumni found their amazing field trip really was too good to be true. Each student who attended Concord Middle School the year the final plans were made were kidnapped individually and brought to their new "boarding school" where they were met by their old Middle School Teachers. Wondering if she was going to see another day, Blair listened in horror as their first objective was explained to them: get pregnant, or get raped. Being thrown into the Dark Rooms every night, Blair must confront everything and anyone who comes her way...and survive it. And now, it would not be a good time to fall in love...
The jingling was echoing loudly in the tiny cubicle. It was about the size of my dad's office back home, only his wasn't so dark and terrifying. Just the thought of being back with him, waiting for him to shut down his computer and gather his things, drawing on the white, dry-erase board with smelly markers, brought tears to my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop them from coming, but my efforts failed with no avail.
The chains were jingling loudly, the sound making me dizzy, knowing it was the only one to be heard. I could hear what was going on outside, but when I screamed shrilly from the back of my throat, no one else could hear but me. They told us it was soundproof, from the outside – for privacy. But I could hear the noises from outside, I think. Maybe they lied to us, to give us hope that we could hear the outside, but in reality we couldn't. To make us paranoid. I didn't hear anything. Just the jingling.
Then the jingling stopped, as I pulled the chains that were attached to my wrists taut. I pulled the farthest away from the wall I could, but the chains always pulled me back by my wrists. I could feel the pressure on my hands, and I had to let up because I knew I could easily break the bones in my hand if I kept pulling away from the wall. I felt the blood start to slide down my forearm and drip off my elbow onto the cushiony floor.
The chains were bolted the black wall about two feet above my head, extended by links for a foot, and then wrapped around my raw wrists. Even if I kept my back flat against the wall, my arms were hanging above my head, and the chains were bolted far apart, so my arms were spread. My hands were practically numb now; all the blood was down at my elbows…or on the floor, I noted.
These four walls were quite cushiony, as was the floor, especially. There was no light in the room, except for a lit up heater in the corner to my left. It emitted an orange-ish light that was only bright enough to use in that corner only. There was no light seeping from the crack under the door. I couldn't tell if there even was a crack under the door. It was built like a safe door. I don't remember if it's metal or not; I didn't pay attention when I came in.
I tried a new tactic. I shot my arms forward, again making the chain taut, and I lay my foot flat on the wall behind me. I strenuously hoisted myself up, so both my feet were on the back wall. My hands were killing me, and I tried to wiggle my wrist around, so the bond would slide down my arm. I knew it would, considering it was lose on my wrist when I relaxed. The hard part was just getting it to slide down. I gulped back repulsion when I realized the only way that link finally slide down my forearm, was from the slickness of the blood dripping down it.
When I was finally in the position I wanted, I pulled again, shaking the chains. I figured the walls weren't going to hold up forever; they were too soft. But they held out for the short period of time I shook it. This was kind of like on TV when you see someone shimmy up a pole with just a rope, or pull themselves up the rope in gym class. It looked much easier when someone else was doing it. I was panting loudly from my efforts, and after about only fifteen seconds, my feet slipped, and the chains around my mid-forearm scraped all the way down to my wrist again.
I screamed in agony. It felt like the chain had scraped off all the skin on my arm, but I knew it really hadn't. I couldn't feel any lose skin. It just felt like they were on fire. I started crying again, wishing I was back in my bedroom, and I would wake up from an insanely real nightmare. I wish I could just stop crying.
I knew how to stop the tears from coming: just stop thinking of home. I needed to come back into reality, into the Dark Room. I don't know if that's what these rooms of torture are called; I just made it up when they gave us the "tour" and told us what would happen when we got sent there. I didn't do anything wrong. I did nothing to get me sent to this horrible room.
My only crime was attending Concord Middle School.