The Hubby Hold (IQ Testing Book 2) (17 page)

Chapter 18

Blue park place

We walk inside the dark room, looking at two focused beams, without any more mirrors.

The room is squared shaped and enclosed, if I believe my eyeballs and my neurons.

We stroll inside towards two shining lights, bombarding the far wall, which is opposite from the archway.

I gasp.

Duchie gasps, squeezing my hand. “That’s a rotating wheel, what’s the purpose, here, Ketona?”

I close my eyelashes then open them. “My smart neurons recall the rotating wheel from an ancient form of knife throwing, a long, long time ago, before my great-grandparents were born. The knife throwing was an entertainment show in the traveling circuses, before the circus was illegal to operate. A person was strapped onto the wheel then it spin around and around, when the knife thrower impaled the knife into the wood…”

Duchie gasps, back stepping from the wheel. “No, not true.”

“Yes, true.” I say and release her hand, walking to the wheel, studying the wood. “It’s a wooden circle. Yeah, it is a knife throwing show. My picture face is located in the center, inside the wheel. Come and look, Duchie!” I tenderly hold my finger over the wood, not touching. “And, there’re actually splintered wood openings, like a knife impaled the wood, too…”

“No,” she back steps from the wheel, shaking her ponytail, studying the wheels.

I scan the rear wall of blackness. The entire room is dark, almost black, except for two spot lights shining on each wheel. “There are two wheels for two schoolers, me and you. We gotta stand inside the wheel, while it rotates in a circle. This is ‘the thing’ inside the blue color tone. This is my fear, the knife thing, too.” I view the front wall. “There’s no forward wall, only a rear wall. Why’s that?” I exhale, tossing my arms. “This is so confusing and frustrating and unnerving, all at the same time.”

Duchie views the wheel then her boots then Ketona. She exhales, running and yelling. “You helped me with my fear of the snakes. I will take the plunge with the wheel.”

I gasp then swing my face.

Duchie dashes then slams into the wheel, landing in a spread eagle position, face first, onto the wood. Her ponytail bounces side to side from the body impact. Her body poses upright onto the wooden wheel circle, like a glued portrait of her backside.

Wide straps suddenly emerge from the wood, wrapping around both ankles, kneecaps, the buttocks, both hips, the entire rib cage and back muscles, both wrists, both elbows, both upper biceps, the neck, and around the top of her eardrums.

I scream, running to the wheel. “Duchie!”

Duchie grunts in slow words. “I…stuck.”

The wheel slowly spins with her body glued inside the middle, clockwise. Her skull shifts into the one o’clock position, like an analogy clock.

She gasps for air molecules from her parted lips, not being able to scream from her tight chest cavity against the wood. The leather straps securely hold Duchie in place, not sliding her off the upright circle of wood. Her left cheekbone is lying against the wood. Her right cheekbone is exposed, allowing her to breathe in short huffs.

The room is quiet with no sound.

I stand and stare with my mouth open. I can’t hear any noise, except for my breath, when I inhale for air molecules.

The rotating wheel doesn’t squeak, or crack with sound from its rotating motion. One of the shining beams of lights focuses on the entire circle of wood with Duchie stuck inside.

Duchie yelps then gasps for air molecules, when the knife appears beside her left kneecap, making a swishing sound.

I gasp, seeing the protruding knife. The knife is facing the wrong way, showing the pointy blade, not the smooth handle, through the wood and against Duchie’s body parts. I shout. “Don’t move! You’re safe. You’re not harmed. Don’t move, Duchie! Just relax and close your eyes. This will be done, shortly.”

The wheel slowly spins with her skull is positioned at the number three, like shown on an analogy clock.

Duckie yelps then gasps for air molecules, when the second knife appears beside her right elbow. She can’t see the knife, feeling the smooth metal gently touch the cat suit with the knife pressure touching her bone.

I gasp then kneel, sobbing with tears. Now, I understand. The park place is a knife throwing show, since my fear is the knife.

The wheel will slowly rotate around in a circle, until the knife completely saws through the wood, from the opposite side of the wall, by some force, or fierce person. I slap my hands to my face, sobbing with tears of fright and fear.

Duchie slowly twirls around inside the wheel. Her skull is positioned at the number six, like shown on an analogy clock. She yelps then gasps for air, when a third knife appears beside her neck. She feels the cold steel tickle her neck, behind her skull.

I must jump onto my designated wooden wheel, too. I must allow the wheel to spin and the knives to cut through the wood, too. I must finish the blue color tone, too, or I will remain, here, forever, becoming a teacher, or a shoe maker, a cake maker, a jewelry maker. I don’t how to perform these specific jobs.

I have studied and learned to become a medical technician, like my parents.

I lift my red tear stained face.

Her skull is positioned at the number nine, like shown on an analogy clock. The wheel slowly turns. Duchie yelps then gasps, when the sixth knife rubs against her right foot.

I sob with tears, feeling fright, watching Duchie spin around the wood. I feel fear that I must do the same thing, too. I slowly stand, viewing my boot toes.

The room is dark and quiet, except for the two spot lights on Duchie and my wheel.

I slowly scoot towards the wheel. My boots don’t make any sound along the wooden floor. I sob with fear and fright.

I wish for Rincon, holding my hand, as I walk towards the wheel, like he did on cliff jumping and the spider web.

I curse my parents, not tattling about the Cubby Hole and the danger. I stand parallel to the wooden wheel of light color.

It doesn’t move or squeal.

Duchie yelps then gasps, when the ninth knife rubs against her rib cage.

I see my picture face with a bright happy smile, inside the center. I exhale, wiping the snot from my face and hands. I close my eyelashes, not breathing. I open my eyelashes, exhaling.

I run then leap, landing in the center of the wood.

The wooden wheel holds a stick substance, gluing me into the center. The leather straps, quickly, wrap about my body parts, the same body parts, like Duchie.

The wheel doesn’t make any sound, slowly rotating clockwise towards the number one, like shown on an analogy clock.

The room is quiet and dark.

I close my eyelashes, when the knife tickles my left thigh. I yelp then gasp from the shock of the smooth touch. I close my eyelashes, breathing out my mouth, drooling from my lips over the wood and my throat.

I remember this is a psychology game.

The wheel shifts sideways, well, I am sideways. My right eyeball sees the open wall, leading into the wall of mirrors, re-playing my past birthday parties. Since, I jumped then slammed the left side of my face against the wood, sticking.

I gasp, feeling the tip of the blade tickle my right elbow.

The wheel slowly twirls towards the number six, like shown on an analogy clock. My skull is almost upside down, making my brains want to fall out my eye sockets. My guts are touching my esophagus. I feel like I’m going to puke. Good thing! I haven’t eaten, since the pink color tone, when I ate the nuts and fruits.

I gasp, feeling the knife slide, too close, to my rib cage.

The wheel slowly rotates towards the number ten, like shown on an analogy clock. I close my eyelashes, breathing deeply, trying not to vomit from seasickness. I feel, like my guts are falling into my rib cage, but that is not possible, medical thinking.

The knife swishes upward from the wood, rubbing against my left thigh.

I gasp, feeling the back of the protruding blade. I had the unfortunately opportunity to see the knife tips, coming out the wood around Duchie. Therefore, my body part feels the stinging knife blade as my mind re-plays the visual picture.

I lost count of the number of knife tips, protruding around my body.

The wheel slowly rotates around in the whole numbers, like an analogy clock.

I exhale in short breaths, since my lungs are crashing into the hard wood. I can breathe heavy or deep, without jerking on the leather straps.

When I jerk on the leather straps, I am not freed then I become panicked.

I exhale, closing my eyelashes, trying to forget, this horrible moment. But, my stomach reminds my brain cells, sloshing side to side with seasickness, right back into my mind.

The wheel rotates into a downward pose. My skull is almost touching the floor.

The room is dark and silence, making me more fearful that something else is going to pop out of the woodwork, or sneak up on my exposed back muscles.

I gasp with fear then snort tiny puffs of air molecules, trying to calm my racing heart, sweating palms, and active imagination.

I hum, thinking how many knives will surround my body. This is a fake throwing show, but a true spinning wheel. The wheel, alone, is making my mind spin, my eyeballs burn, and my face swollen from drooling blood vessels.

I growl, promising to find out, who is behind Citizenship Day. I can’t believe the rest of the teens allow this to happen to their bodies. Then, I gasp.

The other teens are smarter than I.

The Cubby Hole started out with 313 teens inside the auditorium painted in silver tint.

Now, in the next to last color tone, there are fifteen teens willing to endure the torture of the horrible park place, just to earn their once in a lifetime dream job. If my parents had tattled to me this horrible event, I would have stayed in the orange color tone with Buffo.

I gasp with the truth.

Buffo was told of these scary events, before walking into the Cubby Hole. He had been exhibiting and tattling to me some shared knowledge. This explains to me his stationary position inside the orange color tone.

I snarl at his chicken stew attitude then gurgle with bravery, since I can’t laugh out loud.

I am going to endure this final park place and win over Buffo, the Cubby Hole, Rincon, Marsilla, and my parents.

I open my eyelashes, at that moment, staring into Duchie’s scared eyeballs.

Our wheels meet, at the exact moment, in time and space, inside the dark and quiet room.

Duchie yelps then gasps. Three knives, at the same time, shoot up from the wood, tenderly rubbing her bicep, foot, and thigh.

I gasp, seeing numerous knife tips pop up from the wood around Duchie then exhale.

Yes. I, now, know the total number of knife tips that will surround our bodies. The mirrors told me so. My mirror showed my age in odd numbers. Duchie’s mirror was even numbers. Therefore, I will have a total of seventeen knife tips around my body.

Duchie will have sixteen knife tips.

I can see her body, since I’m completing a third rotation.

So, she should be very close to receiving all sixteen knife tips. The triple number of knives means the tips will pop up from the wood, three at a time.

Duchie yelps then gasps, when another set of three knife tips rub against her body. She closes her eyelashes, holding back the vile bile from her stomach. She is afraid that the vomit will cause to her choke. She rotates towards the top of the wheel for a fourth time.

Her guts shift side to side, up and down from the rotating motion. Her fear has left the mind, being replaced with angry at the park place, the Cubby Hole, and Citizenship Day. Her parents didn’t exactly spill the details of the park places, but reminded her to be brave and endure. Now, Duchie understands the word, endure.

Bravery is easy, when you’re young and naïve.

She exhales slowly, feeling the leather straps tighten around my rib cage, making her panic into suffocating. She relaxes her limbs, closing her eyelashes. She has lost count of the knife tips, not knowing how many will surround her body, either.

But, the park place can’t last, forever.

Duchie yelps then gasps, feeling the knife tips slowly lower down into the wood as they once against tickle and tease her body parts with the sharp blades. The cat suit is enduring the cutting, very well.

The wheel stops. Her skull points at the wooden floor then the leather straps contract quickly.

Duchie falls down with the force of gravity, shoving her arms into front of her skull. She rolls forward, like a ball, away from the wheel then lands on her back. She exhales in deep breaths, spread eagle on the wooden floor.

I rotate towards the floor, seeing with my right eyeball some motion around Duchie. Then, I smirk, as best as I can, with my mouth smashed against the wood.

Duchie is freed.

So, I will be free, soon, too.

I gasp, when two knife tips rub against my foot and my cheekbone. The sharp tip tenderly cuts a tiny gash into my skin.