by Abigail Cole
Sometimes, I wish I were the type of girl to let someone take over for a while, to wake me when everything is back to normal. But that seems too easy. Pain is what lets me know I’m awake, the raw ache in my chest reminds me life doesn’t stop for anyone. We must brave our own storms and cling to the hope a brief ray of sunshine might peek through the clouds before our last sun sets. No shortcuts, no cop outs, no mercy.
Meg
Holy shit, I’m going to die down here. The instant Wyatt walked away from me; the realisation dawned that this is all real. For some reason, I thought things wouldn’t go this far, that some part of him wouldn’t dump me in the hands of a murderous gangster and walk away. I should have fought harder, I should have unleashed the true ferocity of my struggling, maybe even sobbed and pleaded.
How could I have been so stupid? I reckon I subconsciously allowed myself to be put back into Wyatt’s clutches, figuring it’s my turn to suffer in the revolving cycle he can’t seem to break free from. Everything is so unnecessarily fucked. Wyatt feels more than hard done by; he genuinely believes he’s missed out on something due to my existence. But if it came to between me and Avery, then I’ll gladly take this round. She’s been through too much, and as much as I can pretend, she has a chance to flee and start over, I know she’ll be running straight towards me.
An electronic lantern shines through the steels bars I’m clutching onto, the grate allowing me to look along the dark corridor and see the bottom of the steps I was dragged down. Trailing my fingers down the grooves of thick beams, my shoulders sag forward until my forehead is pressed against the wood. My body begins to shiver in Wyatt’s t-shirt, the dampness in the air seeping into my bare skin. Slowly turning, I glance around my new home with tears brimming my eyes.
Bleak stone walls glow dimly from the lantern’s fake flame, the empty space barely big enough for me to lie down in. If I hadn’t had my crash course in battling claustrophobia in the trunk of the sedan, I’d be in fits of hysterics by now. But if the light remains on and the monsters stay on the other side of the door, I reckon I can handle this. For now. A metallic toilet sitting in the corner makes me grimace but at least it’s better than alternative, lounging around in my own filth. One single toilet roll has been placed on the tank and there’s a matching sink beside it which I promptly check has running water. After splashing my face, I slump down onto the floor and hug myself. What happens now?
The stone floor is unforgiving, no chance of finding a comfortable way to sit or lie. Rolling the clicks out of my ankles, I pull my hair loose from the tie holding it up and flick the band back in forth in my fingers. If I manage to get a guard close enough to the door, I reckon I could use this bad boy to catapult small stones right into his eye, for no other reason than my sole amusement. One point for each curse word and ten if I manage to cause some retina damage. Feeling alongside the wall, I start to build an ammo pile whilst singing my way through the Sweeny Todd song list. Seemed fitting.
Lesson 101 of survival, you’re only as screwed as your mindset. Even if such a time comes of me giving up on escaping, which isn’t likely, I need to promise myself I won’t let Wyatt see me crack. I’m unsure why it’s so important, but if there is one thing still within my power, it’s that I can’t let him see he’s won. He can do what he likes to me now, but he won’t have the satisfaction of my misery. And who knows, if breaking me becomes his main focus, hopefully it’ll buy more time for Avery to get as far away as she can. And I swear to everything I hold dear, if she’s not then I’ll…give her a firm talking to, maybe a slap.
It’s inevitable my morale won’t last forever, but at least I’m a vivid daydreamer. Leaning back as comfortably as I am able, I focus on my breathing and bring a vision to life around me. The cell transforms to a field before my eyes, luscious green grass splaying across the ground. The sun is beating down on my face, a flurry of sparrows flying freely overhead. A small ball rolls towards my foot, followed by the lacrosse team. White vests and skorts hug their lean bodies, displaying each of their individual numbers in red. Mesh sticks in hand, they smile down at me with blue gumshields fully on show and I chuckle. We’ve played some killer games the past few years, returning as victors with huge trophies for the college display cabinet. But we’ve also lost too, had our asses handed to us time and again, but we never gave up.
A faint creak sounds down the corridor as I begin to envision the goaltender scooping up the ball- Wait, I hear real footsteps! I jump up to my feet, my legs already turning numb on the hard floor and I grip the steel grate to peer around. “Hey, is there someone else down here?” I ask hopefully, able to just about see four doors across the opposite side. A short, plump woman comes into view, looking around nervously as she makes a beeline for me.
Her dark hair is loose on her shoulders, the curled ends bouncing with each hurried step. She glances at the doors either side before focusing her attention on me. “Oh, my love,” she breathes, reaching out to stroke my hair but deciding against it at the last moment. Withdrawing her hand, I watch suspiciously as she kneels in front of the door. Sliding back an opening I hadn’t noticed; she proceeds to push an oblong box into my cell. Crouching down, her hand shoots through the gap to grab mine as I accept the box. Her thumb caresses the back of my hand and I resist yanking back, sensing she isn’t here to harm me.
“I’m so sorry you are the price that needs to be paid,” she murmurs before pulling back and closing the slat between us. I weirdly miss the heat of her hand instantly, my short time in here clearly already influencing me. Her footsteps scurry away as I sit wondering what the fuck all that was about. Opening the box, I squint to see the items crammed inside and use my fingers to feel out what’s in there.
Firstly, there’s a small plastic bag containing a toothbrush, paste and bar of soap. Then I pull out flattened item that confuses me until I feel an air toggle on the underneath and blow up to discover it’s an inflatable pillow. Next comes a handful of energy bars, an empty bottle I imagine I’m supposed to fill using the sink and a large bar of chocolate. Seriously, who is this lady and why is she sneaking me chocolate? Lastly, the padded nylon material spread across the base of the box unfolds to reveal a sleeping bag and my imprisonment just became much more manageable.
Two energy bars and a whole bottle of what I’m sure is not drinking water later, I slip into the sleeping bag and rest my head on the pillow with a sigh. The light from the corridor is enough to take the edge off, but my claustrophobia is lingering beneath my skin. I need to keep calm, allowing my fear to consume me will only hurt myself. The four walls feel like they are shifting closer, the darkness pressing in on me like a heavy weight leaning on my chest. Goosebumps prickle across my entire body, my breath fogging in front of my face as nightfall has the temperature plummeting. Pulling Wyatt’s collar up to my nose, I inhale his heady scent with the sole purpose of banishing the stench of damp and faeces. Yeah right.
Maybe being a therapist‘s daughter has made me too understanding, but I know I don’t hate Wyatt with every fibre of my being like I should. During our journey, I learnt his indecisive glances and conflicted expressions, noting all the times he didn’t know why he was still ploughing ahead with someone else’s plan. The human mind is complex enough without being at war with itself. But if this is what he truly thinks he needs; I do find myself hoping he’s right. Maybe that’s why I didn’t fight hard enough, because in coming here maybe I could save both him and my twin from miserable fates.
Not even a scurry of rats or a dripping tap sound to fill the silence around me. Just the drumming of my fingers on my collar bone and the unsure thump of my heart. I should be used to my own company, considering I was an only child up to a few weeks ago. But for one moment, between early morning yoga sessions and midnight chatting in bed, I’d never felt so complete. And now I lay staring at the shadowed lines across the ceiling with the cold biting at my cheeks, I’m no longer able to ignore the anguish I’ve been trying to pretend hasn’t been
tearing me in two since I woke up in the trunk of the car.
If I can just hold onto the hope that Avery is safe, that’ll be enough to withstand anything thrown my way. I yearn for her company, her strong yet comforting presence to bolster me, but I will gladly give my life to never see her down here. She’s suffered enough at the expense of Nixon’s decision to have us adopted so I suppose it’s my turn.
Axel
Why can’t I move? Shrouded in darkness, only the thump of my heartbeat in my ears tells me I’m not dead, not that I feel reassured. My body feels like I’ve been buried in concrete, every muscle too weak to push against the weight holding me down. My mind slipped through the fog to rouse a little while ago, but my eyelids are still too heavy to lift. What the hell happened to me? Using all my focus, I push every drop of my energy into twitching each of my fingers one by one. Satisfied my fingers are in working order, I slowly begin wiggling my toes back and forth to banish the pins and needles sending tingles up my legs. A shudder rolls through my restricted spine, making me want to groan at the involuntary movement but no sound passes my lips. Finally, an eternity of lying in the pitch black of my own panic, I manage to crack my eyelids and blink a few times to focus.
A sea of stars greets me on the other side on my vision, glowing softly in a mix of pale yellow and green. There’s something so familiar about the perfectly pointed shapes, something blaringly obvious lingering on the edge of my mind but I can’t quite grasp it. A solid weight beside me suddenly shifts, a hand slinking over my chest and heavy breath fanning my ear. Fuck.
A scenario I’ve played out a thousand times before slams into me, a pained noise actually leaving me this time. A hand clasping my mouth, painted lips whispering to ‘shh’ in my ear. Perfume so strong clogs my throat, the scents of smoke and alcohol filling my nostrils as fingers brush across my exposed skin. Those glow-in-the-dark stars are my only anchor to reality, the only constant in this repetitive nightmare. How am I back here? Did I ever even escape or was it all a dream?
The figure clinging to my side sits upright, flicking on my space-themed nightlight to assess me. I will my body to move but I’m stuck, glued to the mattress and only able to scream in my mind. Soft hands touch my cheeks, the tears slipping from my eyes landing upon delicate fingers. Please no, not again. I can’t be here again. My name is being said but it might as well be miles away, battle cries of useless determination filling my ears as I stare at those damn stars. By the time I’ve counted the five points of each one, this should be over. Sitting upright, the darkened silhouette looms over me until I can no longer count, and I recoil until a sea of hazel catches my attention.
Garrett. The invisible binds holding me in place snap at the same time my chest bursts with relief and I lurch upright to grab him. A shot of agony slices across my mid-section, pain blazing a trail through me until I’m slumped back and writhing in discomfort. “Shit stay still Axel. I’ll be right back.” Garrett’s gone before I can beg him to stay, my outstretched hand desperately grabbing the air as agony of a different kind swallows me whole. He’s barely left the room and I’m already contemplating jumping up to chase him, not giving a shit about the repercussions. The small unloved boy in me would do anything for a simple hug, and the broken man I am only wants it from him.
The pain in my abdomen has lessened to an intense throbbing by the time he finally returns, flanked by a bearded man in flannel pyjamas holding a black bag. What the fuck is happening? Garrett re-joins me in the bed and presses a kiss to my sweat-covered brow before pulling down the cover to expose me. My eyes begin to swim with unshed tears, the vulnerability of this moment sending tremors along my skin, but I remain as still as possible, trusting his steady gaze implicitly. My body jerks as the strange man lifts my top, my breathing hitched in suspense.
“W…what’s going on?” I manage to croak, keeping my focus directly on Garrett as something is peeled back from my stomach. He links his fingers in mine, gripping my hand tightly every time I hiss or wince from whatever the fucks being done to me. His eyesight doesn’t flicker from mine the entire time, his undivided attention pulling me through. The sharp scratch of a needle is pushed into the crook of my free arm, a rush of cool liquid filling my veins which has my muscles tensing. Almost immediately, I can feel the pull of drowsiness starting to drag me under, away from him. Droplets pool in the shell of my ear as tears stream down my face, my vision blurring in my desperation to stay in his warmth. “N-no, please don’t make me go back Gar- “
∞∞∞
“-an abundance of krill attracts other visitors to the Peninsula in the summer. Antarctic Minke Whales. They use their pointed heads and short dorsal fins to give them endurance- “
“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” I grumble, my head already starting to pound before I’ve even opened my eyes. Garrett’s voice has filtered through the depths of my slumber several times before, but this is the first time I’ve been able to rouse enough to ask him why he’s telling me that frogs can’t vomit or kangaroos can’t fart. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, my hand clutched in his over his heart. Breathing causes enough discomfort that I don’t bother trying to move my limbs, each inhale burning the back of my throat.
“Well good morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty. How are you feeling?” His hand cups my cheek, a huge dimple-framed smile waiting for me when I manage to open my eyes. The room is a thousand times too bright, the permanent grogginess embedded into my skull magnifying tenfold.
“Like a sack of shit.” I grumble. “Tell me I’m hallucinating and I’m not where I think I am.” Garrett’s smile drops, his brows pinching as if he was expecting me to say something else. Instead of answering me, he releases my hand and shifts to slowly lift me up by the shoulders. After stuffing his pillow behind my back, I sink back in my new elevated position and look around the room from my childhood. Yep, I’m really here. The midnight blue painted walls and solar system project I made in fifth grade hanging by astronaut-themed drawn curtains. Not that they are doing anything to block out the sun’s powerful rays which leave me squinting.
“There was nothing I could do,” Garrett says under his breath and flicks off a huge TV he must have carried in whilst I was asleep. Snuggling up to my side, black lounge pants cover his long legs and I unashamedly run my finger over his bare abs. It’s so easy to get caught up in moments like this, Garrett’s body warmth seeping into me and his eyes completely focused on mine.
My pain ebbs away with the rest of the world, a fantasy of him being solely mine teasing me with its impossibility. Garrett will never tie himself to one person when there’s so many others falling at his feet, and who can blame them? To anyone else, he’s a handsome college kid with honey streaks in his hair to match his light eyes, a natural on the basketball court, always has an easy smile and joke dancing around his full lips, cash to burn on whatever he desires.
But none of that is what I see. I see the barely contained monster living beneath his flesh, the one that craves affection but strives to push it away. The one that refuses to believe he deserves more than rough sex and empty promises.
His eyes drop to my lips briefly which I lick on cue, making him swallow hard and turn away. “Anyway,” he continues, “Sharon’s barely even here half the time. She’s married some rich dude and is playing secretary at his firm. Besides, I won’t be leaving your side, not even when you need a piss.” As if on cue, all the fluid in my body floods south and I groan in discomfort. Nudging Garrett to prove that statement, I start to push myself up despite the anguish it causes me.
“Hey, relax - you have a catheter. You can just go whenever you feel like it.” Garrett tries to gently push me back down, but I refuse, nausea rolling through me. I don’t want to picture my junk all rigged up but now it’s all I can think of and I throw up in my mouth a little at the thought.
“Well get it the shit out. I’m not using that.” I scoff, slowly swinging my legs off the side of the bed as Garrett runs from the r
oom and returns a moment later with a bearded man I vaguely remember, his black bag in hand again. Only the stethoscope around his neck tells me he’s a doctor of sorts, his black t-shirt and jeans nerving me. Who is this guy peeling off the duvet to inspect my dick and is he even qualified to do it? This could be some random that bought a prop and-
“Holy fucking dicksickles!” I roar as he starts to pull the tube out with excruciating slowness, falling back into Garrett’s lap on the mattress. Tears leak from my clenched eyes, my hands ripping holes in the bedsheet and chest heaving in the aftermath of the worst pain I’ve ever felt. A soft snigger reaches my ears which has me hunting for its origin. Garrett’s eyes glazed are with mirth as he bites down on his fist, bubbles of laughter escaping him regardless. “You’re rubbing that better,” I sneer when I start to breathe normally again, thumping his thigh pathetically.
“Deal,” he winks playfully. The doctor stays between my legs and takes the opportunity to check on the dressing strapped to my abdomen. I push up onto my elbows with curiosity, wanting to see what the fuss is all about. The bandage is lifted to reveal a thinly stitched line below my belly button, pink and raised. A glint of metal flashes in my mind’s eye, some beefy guy dressed in black lunging for me, a high-pitched scream.
“Avery!” I suddenly shift, searching the room as if she’ll magically appear and groaning in reaction. “Is she- “
“She’s safe, she’s here in fact. I’ll tell you everything soon enough, just focus on getting better for now. I’ll take care of everything else.” Garrett soothes me by stroking my head, his lop-sided smile leaning over me. His undivided attention sends a flurry of butterflies through my stomach that have nothing to do with the re-dressing of my wound and everything to do with man who will definitely be my downfall. A faint click from the door closing sounds as he bends forward, his hair tickling my cheek a second before his lips press against mine with the softest brush. A gentle caress that brings every nerve ending to life, electricity coursing through my body.