NEARLY Trilogy

by Ashley, Devon

  I groaned when I came to. Disoriented, it took a moment to understand why I was upside down and bouncing. Someone was carrying me, and now that I was waking up, he tightened the hold he had on my thighs. My head fucking hurt, pounding its complaints in rhythmic fashion. My head felt flooded, my thoughts barely cohesive.

  With my hands bound together with some sort of zip-tie, I didn’t have anything left in me to fight my way down. I just hung there trying to rest as he moved through hallways lit so brightly it hurt to open my eyes.

  Eventually, I was dropped hard in the middle of a room and I lacked the energy to do anything about it. Friggs was standing before a roaring fire. I had to suck in the fearful reaction that sparked inside me, remembering all too well the pain that could cause. Fire billowed on the ceiling, reaching down, down, down.

  The man who carried me in here walked off, leaving a third party to stand behind me. He whispered something to Friggs, who nodded in answer. Before leaving the room, the man looked to me, throwing a dagger with his gaze. Seeing that bruise forming across his forehead incited a sense of satisfaction that began to warm my insides.

  I didn’t want to look at Friggs, so I assessed my surroundings. Besides the man standing behind me, Motts was here. Damn. I had hopes he wouldn’t get back up again. He was leaning against the corner of the room, holding a balled up towel over his face. It was black, but the lack of visual blood didn’t deter the smugness I felt for busting his nose.

  Friggs must’ve seen us glaring at one another, because he soon said, “My fault, really. I forgot to tell him not to underestimate you.”

  “The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” I smarted, still eyeing the well-built moron. His eyes tightened even more. If we were ever alone together again, he wouldn’t hesitate to beat the shit out of me. Down for the count kind of beating. Probably like what Zander did to me after Nick tried to hide the knife that one time. Except this guy wouldn’t feel twisted remorse about it afterwards. Or keep me doped up to counter the pain.

  “It seems Mr. Donatello is too out of date with Zander’s affairs to help me any,” Friggs announced. “He still remembered some of the aliases Zander used for buying houses – extremely helpful because that led me to you – but nothing financially useful.” I finally gave Friggs my attention. “And with Zander being dead now” – he paused long enough to turn and point the poker at me – “that leaves you.”

  “You seriously think he told me this shit?”

  “I think he got comfortable around you. Let his guard down. I think you know things you shouldn’t know.”

  “I know jack shit. You want information? Go through his phone.”

  I regretted it as soon as I said it. The app was on his phone, too.

  He made a tsking noise with the corner of his mouth, then moved to hold the metal poker over the back of his shoulders. “Here lies the problem with that. It would seem Zander hit a kill switch when he saw my men coming. Fucker’s fried.”

  I couldn’t help but smile and chuckle quietly. Always prepared, that fucker. Always one step ahead. But for once I wasn’t on the receiving end.

  “So this is the part where you tell me where his laptop is.”

  I felt the muscles behind my eyes strain. They still hadn’t found it at the house? Guess Zander did have a good hiding spot.

  “He didn’t have a laptop,” I answered coolly.

  He smashed the metal pole against the coffee table, shattering the tabletop. I jumped so high my heart felt like it left my body. Glass flew outward in all directions, some of the smaller specks scratching my skin as I lifted my hands to protect my face. “I’m a little irritated by all the lies given tonight. Which isn’t good for you, because you’re the last one standing.”

  An uneasy feeling began to build in my stomach when he laid the poker down with its tip inside the fire. My eyes locked onto the flames dancing higher and higher, twisting its snapping tendrils into a blurry blob of ever-changing shades of yellow and orange. I was so unnerved that I flinched when his finger was suddenly sliding its way down my forearm, where the last remaining burn mark remained. The one so damaged I still couldn’t feel beneath the skin at its most central spot. “I remember what you used to look like,” he said lightly. “After the fire. Before I made your skin almost pretty again.”

  I stared unimpressed. Anyone with a laser could’ve done what he did. Didn’t make him the fucking Michelangelo of plastic surgeons.

  When he leaned close to my ear, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and bite his, but the thought of having any part of him inside my mouth was disgusting.

  With a hot, nasty whisper, he threatened, “I can make you ugly again just as easily.”

  I turned my head closer to his. “I’ve been burned before. I’ve suffocated in ways I never thought I’d recover. It’ll fucking hurt and it’ll make my skin ugly again, but it’ll never get me to talk.”

  “So you do have something to tell then?” he replied with a smirk.

  “No,” I quickly rebutted. “I never saw a laptop. Just a phone.” I wasn’t sure how one would gain access to all of Zander’s accounts, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to help Friggs of all people. I wouldn’t even know how to log onto it.

  He ignored my response – or more likely, disbelieved it – because he pulled the poker out of the fire. Its tip was blindingly bright with an orange-red glow. I jumped to my feet but was immediately snatched from behind. Motts jumped in and grabbed the other side to help drag me closer to the hearth. I couldn’t even dig in my heels with all the glass on the floor. As it was, I could feel tiny cuts forming across my soles.

  Friggs blankly stared at the poker’s radiating heat as he twisted the rod. “Watch the feet. This one’s a kicker, remember?”

  My feet were swept out. I landed hard on my knees, tiny stabs of pain exploding from the glass I just slammed down on.

  “So, would you like to tell me where the laptop is now, or after?”

  “There is no laptop,” I said firmly. Once he began moving my way, my body squirmed, trying to pull itself free of the hands holding it down. My voice rising with panic, I plead, “Why would you ever think he’d give me access to this stuff? The man kept me locked away most of the time.”

  “Lies,” he calmly stated, getting on his knees before me. The glass didn’t seem to bother him any. Hands forcibly pushed my thighs as close to the floor as they could get. “My men told me there were no locks inside that house. Looked rather cozy, actually. Like where two people might live together as a normal couple. And normal couples share things. Like laptops.”

  I shook my head, moisture building up behind my eyes. That poker hadn’t changed in color, but I prayed it was losing intensity as it neared the outside of my outer left thigh.

  I tried to be brave. Tried not to scream and cry. But I couldn’t.

  I screamed so hard my voice cut out. This was so much worse than what happened to me at Charles’ house. Before, excessive heat and fire simply licked at my skin in waves, reddening and overheating. But this… This was red hot fire pushing deep inside me. Singeing. Melting. Destroying. Cells and nerves screamed out as their lives came to an abrupt and catastrophic end. Layer by layer the poker caved its way inward. It was constant, growing pain that amplified by the second, spreading its curse throughout my body from nerve to nerve. I screamed harder. Louder. It seared so much I couldn’t feel the difference when he finally pulled the poker away.

  My head fell. Tears flew to the floor without contest as I heaved in and out. I suddenly felt so exhausted, so strained from the way my body tightened to combat the pain that just wouldn’t end. I heard the poker crash and bounce against the hearth. Friggs bent down before me, tiny pieces of glass crushing beneath his house shoes.

  “Where’s the laptop?”

  I weakly groaned. If I was going to die here tonight, I wasn’t giving Friggs a damn thing. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I never saw one.”

  “I don’t believe yo
u,” he whispered back. His finger pressed down on my inner thigh. “Next one’s going right here.”

  He moved to pull the poker out again. “I’m told that metal partially heated is far more painful to bear than metal fully heated. Something about the hotter it being, the more absolute and quicker it is to destroy the nerves.” He kneeled down to my level again. “But if it’s cooler, it takes longer for the skin to burn away. So it takes longer for the nerves to die, prolonging the pain. Especially on areas of the body that are hypersensitive.”

  Hand pressure increased all around to keep me grounded. I screamed before the poker’s tip even reached the spot he forewarned, which turned into a full-blown shriek the moment skin began to sizzle. Nerves across my entire thigh shot bolts of electricity, more pissed off than Zeus at his worst. He wasn’t kidding about the difference in pain. It was slower this time to weaken, and every second that passed grew exponentially worse. I screamed until I was hoarse, tears so thick and hot some of them drained into my mouth as I sobbed and gasped for air.

  If I passed out, would he stop? Could he tell if I faked it? Finn sure couldn’t.

  I fell forward and went limp in their arms, biting my jaw as hard as I could to keep from screaming. Friggs removed the poker and tossed it back into the fire. The hands that bound me let go. I allowed myself to crash awkwardly to the floor, continuing my act, praying he’d let me be for a while.

  It wasn’t easy bringing my sobs and tears to a complete stop, to swallow every ounce of pain as if it didn’t exist, but I forced my body into complete shutdown. Survival mode was a funny thing. You were suddenly capable of great acts. Like lifting cars and moving at incredible speeds. Me? I could apparently shut down and play dead to save my life. But I feared I wasn’t saving anything, just prolonging the inevitable. I wasn’t even sure if Friggs believed it.

  “Yeah, you rest up, Princess,” he said, pushing the blanket of hair off my face. His breath heated my ear when he whispered, “’Cause the next one is going inside.”

  He slapped me so hard across the face I couldn’t contain the reaction. My mouth opened in shock, my body twitching in response. Gasping uncontrollably, I knew I couldn’t keep pretending. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I groaned. “I told you I know nothing about Zander’s shit. The guy just fucking rapes me every night. That’s it. He doesn’t trust me with anything.”

  “Didn’t, Princess. Past tense.”

  Frustrated, I jerked against the hands that sat me up again. I wasn’t above begging either. Or bargaining. I was willing to die and bring it all to an end, but I didn’t want to be burned by a fucking hot poker on my way out. “Please! I don’t know anything!” I cried again, my eyes locked hard on the enflamed metal inching closer and closer.

  “You know, I almost believe you. But based on the fact that Zander repetitively told me I’d never find it, meant there was one there to be had. You’re very persuasive, but it’s hard to believe you never saw one.”

  My eyes widened as his hand inched closer again. “Please! Zander was just fucking with you! He said you’d never find it because there’s not one there to find!”

  The poker stopped advancing.

  “Well, fuck,” he said with boredom, looking to the men behind me. “She might have a point.” Looking back down at me, pointing the tip of the poker incredibly close to my face, he added, “Give me one good reason not to sterilize you the old-fashioned, barbaric way.”

  The metal was so close my cheek could feel the heat radiating off of it. Out of nowhere, I blurted, “He was on the phone a lot. I mean a lot. I think he had someone else doing the computer things for him.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  My eyes fixed on the glowing metal too close for comfort, I said, “Well, I wasn’t completely motivated at the time.” I still couldn’t remove my eyes from the rod, which he cruelly waved before me. And every dip made my burns scream in unison, still fighting for my complete attention – something I wasn’t willing to give at the moment.

  “But you are now?”

  “Yes. Yes! Just stop already!”

  “Hmmph.” His eyes were clearly debating what to think. He was twisting the rod back and forth between his fingers when a guy with a bag crossed over his body entered the room and urged him to come over. Thankfully, he did, but not without matching my long, hard stare into his eyes. I took note that the new guy was packing.

  “Get her to the car. Now!” he barked. “Ditch the radios and watch your six. We’ve got company.” The new guy slapped guns into the hands of all three men before following Friggs out. Motts and the other man dragged me off my knees and took us in the opposite direction. I didn’t help them one bit, forcing them to drag my limp body through the corridors. When the lights went dead, both men paused in the darkness. Yelling voices echoed somewhere deep in the distance, followed by a single shot of gunfire.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Just get her to the car.”

  “I can’t see a fucking thing!”

  “Goddamn it,” Motts spat. “Hold her a sec.”

  Motts let go.

  I wondered if help had finally arrived. If it hadn’t, I didn’t want to be dragged off to some other destination just to be tortured even more once Friggs realized I was full of shit. My leg worked, but just standing here sent shockwaves down it. My outer burn still really ached, but it was nothing in comparison to the burn on my inner thigh. Phantom flames still licked at my skin there, blossoming outward on adjacent nerves.

  Motts’ phone lit up his face. The guy that had a grip on me was paying more attention to him than me. Remembering my self-defense training with Jesse, I forcefully spun my body inward and kept turning. My momentum forced his hand to slide up and off my arm. He cursed and said, “She’s loose.” He slapped at my skin but was unable to get a firm enough grip as I crawled and tumbled away. Frustrated, Motts screamed all sorts of profanities directed my way. He was the one who managed to tackle me, smashing me flat onto the cold, hard floor, all of his weight pressing down. His phone hit the floor and immediately went black.

  “Get off me!” I screamed.

  His upper body lifted but the rest remained put. Something hard pressed against my right temple. Every part of me froze, even my breath. “I don’t have a problem blowing off your goddamn head right here and now if that’s what it takes. I doubt Fr–”

  He was cut off by the sound of a gun. I screamed bloody fucking murder when his head dropped onto my body. A second bullet ripped overhead and another body fell. Multiple footsteps thundered my way, one of their maker’s saying, “Clear. Two down, third floor southeast hallway.”

  All I saw was darkness as Motts’ body was rolled off of me. Hands grabbed at my already bruised arms, but they pulled me up in a different way, a more caring kind of way. Someone grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. Cutting the zip-tie around my wrists, a female voice confidently said, “I’m Officer Reese. What’s your name?”

  I stuttered for a moment. I think I was in shock that someone actually came. That Zander’s failsafe actually worked. “Umm…” I pinched my eyes. What was it? I couldn’t think.

  The footsteps that first surrounded me continued on down the corridor.

  “It’s okay. I know it’s dark, but Officer Phillips and I are going to guide you to safety, okay?”

  I nodded to the darkness. She took my hand and pulled me forward, following the footsteps in front of her. They had some silent communication going on between them, and with my inability to see in the darkness like them, I was at a loss for what was really going on. They led me through corridors and down stairs. Occasional bursts of gunfire went off, but they were deeper within the house. My mind kept going back to Friggs. Had someone caught up to him yet? He had gone off in a completely different direction.

  I was passed off to a different officer on the main floor and my two guides turned around to go back in. There was light closer to the main entrance and a hel
l of a lot more bodies donned in heavy tactical gear, who hardly paid me notice as I was guided through them.

  I stepped outside into the chilly pre-dawn morning. Elusive thunderclouds rumbled overhead, the occasional flash of lightning striking the sky. Red and blue lights flashed in every direction, their emergency vehicles park haphazardly anywhere they could squeeze, some of the doors left wide open. Like it was a mad dash to get up here and get into position. Multiple personnel in various uniforms were scattered about, no one truly in control of the situation.

  “This way,” a man said as he pushed against the back of my shoulder, leading me to a group of shivering girls behind the vehicles, some of who were dressed more scantily than I was. “Stay here,” he told me. “We need to get your information and the EMTs are going to check you out.”

  He didn’t stay long enough to see if I had a question, too busy rushing off back into the house. He didn’t recognize me. And I didn’t recognize him. As I scanned the vicinity, I realized I didn’t know any of the faces present.

  Like a whisper on the wind, my old mantra, the one that used to rule over everything I did, suddenly echoed through my mind. Head down, stay off the radar.

  A warm blanket was draped over my shoulders, and when I turned, a female paramedic was trying to offer a kind smile. But there was a lot of pity keeping it from looking genuine. She continued on, covering up each of the others with their own cover. It made me think of Thea, who was currently covered up with one right now.

  Gunfire exploded inside the house near the front windows. The girls around me screamed and ducked to the ground, completely hiding themselves beneath blankets that could nothing more than visually mask the violence. A few were too dazed to really figure out what to do. And me? The noise hardly got a reaction, my senses too numb to care.