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Amnesia and Star Child	By : coldblood Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Linkin Park Views: 1642 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Linkin Park. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
I was left there in that same position for weeks, every night he would use me like a toy, hunger gnawed at my insides and my mouth was parched from thirst.
He raped me. I swear to god that was what it was - even though I was sure that guys couldn’t possibly be raped.
That felt like it though - it sure as hell felt like it.
One night sometime four weeks later, I looked to the window and watched as rain splattered against the pane.
Thunder was booming overhead, lightning flashing.
I loved the raw power of it all, sometimes if I’d try hard enough, I’d become the storm - then when it passed I’d feel so much better...
He was watching me.
In the shadows.
Suddenly he got up and walked over to me, kissing me lightly on my cheek since my mouth was still duct taped.
“Time’s up half cast...” He smirked.
He unchained the collar and pulled me up to my feet.
I’m not a half cast, I thought.
I’m a fourth generation Japanese - if anything, I’m a quadroon.
“You realize you’re a bastard. A mongrel of the worse kind...” The psycho’s voice lowered. “You’re a hybrid. And they don’t deserve to live.”
I took a deep breath and lowered my head.
I was shoved against a wall and strapped there - then he ripped the tape covering my mouth off - it stung but I didn’t fight.
Hell - I was skeletal - there was nothing left in me to fight with.
“They’re pretty, mongrels... Some of them at least. Like you - but no, they can’t live. They poison the world with their filth. Consider the half casts of Australia - an ingenious plan the whites had indeed... Just breed the black out - pair the half cast kid to a white, by the third generation - there’s no trace of the black. We should do that here.” He laughed and kissed me. “But no. It would never happen now - so I do what everyone else can’t. I cleanse the lines.” He pulled the knife from his pocket and traced the blade down my neck, gently enough that it didn’t bleed.
Suddenly he swiped it over my chest.
I cried out in pain - and screamed louder as he attacked me again - over and over as more and more bloody gashes appeared on my skin.
When he finally stopped I was weak, my shirt was bloody tatters and my cargoes were sodden with my blood.
“I’ll bleed it out of you - and then there’ll be one less mongrel!” He cackled and unbuckled me, then dragged my bloodied body to the door and out into the pelting rain.
I was dragged for some time when at last I was dropped.
Thunder clapped loudly - accompanied by a lightning flash.
“You can’t save him now!” He cackled insanely, looking up at the tree.
I turned my head and caught a glimpse of something flitting across the branch. Whatever it was - it was big.
Suddenly my eyes were held open and something sharp was plunged into them - I screamed - only to by stabbed again.
I was shoved - then fell - landing in something like drenched satin - it was soft and wet at any rate.
Blood poured between my fingers from the wounds - blood - blood everywhere.
There was a bang and then everything became muffled.
I felt around, finding walls - walls - walls everywhere, something in my mind started screaming.
Coffin - it’s a coffin!
“HELP!!!” I screamed, pounding at the lid.
Over the thunder, wind and rain I could hear the sound of a shovel pitching dirt.
Piles of mud began splattering on the top of the casket.
I was being buried alive.
“HEEEEELP!!!” I shrieked louder, clawing at the wood, getting splinters under my fingernails.
No one would be able to hear me but the psycho burying me.
Tears of absolute terror were running down my cheeks, but I didn’t dare close my eyes - the pain of the stab wounds forced me to keep my fingers pressed against my eyelids so they wouldn’t close.
I slumped weakly as it fell silent, sick and tired, remaining there for what seemed eternity.
Hours passed.
I knew I was dying. If I didn’t suffocate first, I’d bleed to death.
“It’s over.” I whispered to myself. “It’s all finally over.”
Something overcame me then, a crazy desire to relax and sleep. But...
I could sense something more - terror. But it wasn’t my own... There was urgency and desperation too, but I just knew it was someone else’s.
I could feel strength - a blow from something that didn’t touch me.
I just knew it.
There was something else out there - something more powerful - something...
Something began scratching - I could feel dirt under my fingernails, though there was none in the casket.
My muscles strained, I felt like I was shoveling dirt, laboring hard, knowing it - it would spell death if I stopped... But it wasn’t me.
Something banged against the lid.
“Help me.” I whispered.
God I was barely able to breathe - I was feeling so helplessly weak.
Again and again something struck the lid until I could hear splintering, the strikes became more frantic - then suddenly something burst through the lid.
It was wrenched out and broke through again.
Fingers grabbed the thin wood through the holes and strained, pulling, pulling until all of a sudden the nails holding the wood in place gave way.
Rain and dirt mixed together splattered on my face.
“Help...” I breathed.
Leathery, turtle fingers ran up under my chest - it hurt at first, then it faded to nothing.
The gentle tingling fingers touched my eyes and though I couldn’t see it - and though it was the most impossible - obscene thing you could imagine - I was sure it was healing.
It was then my life changed forever.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Amnesia and Star Child