The Slick Floor Chapter 9

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Chapter 9

A sharp pinch wakes me up. Opening my eyes I see Sam standing over me, his eyes are amused and bright. “Time to wakeup, my sleeping beauty.” He says.

Sitting up I look him square in the eye and start to tell him to fuck off but I catch myself before the words fall off my tongue. Instead of making Sam angry I know I have to act better than I’ve been acting, I have to get out of here soon. “Alright, I’m up.” I tell him obediently.

“I need you to eat and see the doctor, and then I have a job for you to do.” He answers.

I feel him watching my face closely analyzing my expression, “Why do I need to see a doctor, seems as if you don’t care if there was something wrong with me anyway.” I tell him sternly. Really who brings a doctor to the girl you kidnapped, then beat the shit out of. Apparently Sam does.

“That is not true I care for you deeply, and your parents care for you as well. As for why you have to see a doctor is the matter of your ankle, I saw you limping on it; we need to make sure you’re as healthy as possible, all right.” He questions with a voice that seems to stand in the air waiting for an answer.

“Okay, what’s the job?” I ask.

His hand pinches my cheek as he answers, “No more question, only dumb girls ask lots of questions, you’re not dumb are you?” He asks.

Shaking my head I tell him, “No, no I’m not dumb.” Training my eyes on the floor I feel his attention flip from me to a man who has just entered the room. This man has blonde air that is thin and greasy; his blue eyes look kind and sweet like ripe blueberries. It feels as if this man is too happy to be in such a bitter place. Stepping towards me he motions for me to come stand beside him, as Sam moves out of the way I obey the doctor’s orders and stand beside him, waiting nervously.

“Come sit down in this chair and let me look at this ankle of yours,” His voice is cheery and fake. It sickens me to listen to him but I sit in the chair anyway. He sets a black bag gingerly on the ground and kneels in front of me; gently he picks up my ankle and rolls up my pant leg. I feel his warm fingers tracing my bones and bending my foot this way and that, flinching I cry out softly.

“Yes I do believe that your ankle is sprained. I’ll give you a brace and all you have to do is make sure you ice it once a day.”

He finishes speaking and pulls a black ankle brace out of his handy dandy black bag. Placing the brace on my ankle he stands up from his position on the ground and pats my head. I flinch involuntarily and watch Sam and the doctor chuckle. My cheeks are burning red, I hate to fear Sam but like I said it’s involuntary. Sam turns his head to the side and speaks slowly to me, as if speaking to a small child.

“Marnie, thank this kind doctor for making you all well and better.” Softly he says these words. Daring me to thank the doctor, like this whole thing is some sort of game. Silence follows. I refuse to thank this doctor… minutes later I look up at the doctor. Staring at him for several seconds I speak.

“Thank you for fixing the ankle that Sam fucked with. I really appreciate it.” Once again, silence.

Sam looks at me but speaks to the doctor.” Thank you again, you may leave.” Now he is looking at me as well as speaking to me.

“Smart ass,” He mutters. Motioning for me to get up he speaks again, “Darling you are going to be given the job of being my little cleaning maid. You will only clean where I tell you and you will only rest when I tell you. Cameras are positioned everywhere, you will be monitored very closely.”

“I will have Reds show you what you are supposed to do and I hope that you have very fun doing it.”

“Yes. I will have great fun Sam. I’m so incredibly excited.” I say in a dead monotone voice.

His eyes are still focused on me. I begin to grow uncomfortable beneath his gaze, “Watch what you say Marnie. Remember I’m in charge.” His words threaten me; I feel fear crawling up my spine. But then to make myself unafraid I just imagine myself punching Sam in the face and the fear is replaced to a goal. Goal: punch the fuck out of Sam.

Sorry About the small chapter, I have major writers fart.
"Characters cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved." Helen Keller




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Don't worry about writers block, it will soon fade. I quite enjoyed the dialogue you had and it seemed almost like the Twilight series (yes I've read the first three). By taking the reader into your character's mind you really shape the entire experience and to some degree, the reader momentarily becomes that girl asking Sam some questions.

Here are some of my personal tips for fighting writers block:

1) Channel strong emotions into your writing, your life can be the greatest source of inspiration just waiting to be tapped into.

2) Take a break and do something not related to writing fiction (writing non-fiction instead does not count as taking a break).

3)Lastly, always have breakfast. Food for the mind.

3.1) Here's an extra tip: Keep a notebook if you have any interesting dreams. Recording your dreams will give you more control over them and to some degree, can provide extra inspiration for a creative mind.

Sincerely,
-Elitehusky



The only distinction that makes one a hero is constantly fighting back your villain arc.
— RangerofIthilien