The Silent Sounds of Chaos

by Kristina Circelli

  “You don’t even know what I’m doing.”

  “Don’t need to know what you’re doing to know you ain’t got the smarts to pull it off solo.”

  The reply irritated Finn, though he tried not to show it. He had to keep Joe thinking he was welcome. The last thing he needed was the lackey running back to Charlie and saying something that would have his ass dragged back home. Finn chose not to reply and dug into his food.

  But Charlie’s number two wasn’t so intent on letting the issue go. “You gonna make me ask again?”

  Shooting a glare across the table, Finn chewed slowly, deliberately, giving himself time to think. In the rush to get ready earlier he hadn’t actually thought through the lie he would tell Joe. It was a miracle he hadn’t asked during the ride south already.

  “If you make me—”

  “I got a girl I’ve been after who finally agreed to give it up,” Finn cut in, lifting a shoulder to appear nonchalant. “She moved a couple years back for school but we kept in touch. What can I say, my charm works across state borders.”

  Joe scoffed and shook his head. “You telling me you’re driving all the way Georgia for some ass?”

  “Is it really that hard to believe? If you’re good, maybe I’ll even let you have a taste when I’m done with her.” It sickened him to even suggest such a thing.

  Leaning back, Joe pointed a fry at Finn. “First off, we both know I’d take the first taste. Ain’t no way I’m gettin’ some punk’s sloppy seconds. Second, I ain’t buyin’ it. Everyone knows you’re stuck on that cute little black-haired number always sneakin’ in back to see you. What’s her name, Leo’s kid. So let’s try again. You bullshit me again, I got Charlie on speed dial.”

  Busted, deciding against attempting another lie to a man who was trained to get information out of people, Finn relented and pulled out his phone, clicking through a few Google searches until he finally landed on a Georgia news page. And there, front and center on his screen, was a picture of Snow. This one was different than the image he saw before, a typical school picture. The image now was a candid shot. She was looking just above the camera and smiling wide, perhaps laughing at something the person on the other side said. Her golden hair framed her face in a halo, the sun lighting up her porcelain skin.

  Local College Student Abducted from Campus, read the headline.

  The search continues for two men involved in the disappearance of a young woman, continued the first line of the article.

  It was public now, which meant not only did Finn have more information to go on, but he also had Snow’s real name. If he was a smarter man, he could have done a simple computer search to find out everything about her. If he was a more trusting man, he could have gone to an expert and asked for a favor. But he wasn’t a smarter or trusting man. All he had was the drive and willingness to slice open whoever hurt her. That, and the knowledge that prying too deep would likely alert the abductors that someone was after them, which would put Snow in even more danger.

  No, he had to go in slow and under the radar, as difficult as that was.

  “This is why we’re going to Atlanta.” Finn slid the phone across the small table to Joe. “That’s her, my friend I said needed help. She was kidnapped two days ago walking home from campus. Police don’t know anything yet, but I’m going to find her, and I’m going to get her home.”

  Joe stared down at the phone, moving the screen up and down with one finger, forehead furrowed. “How you gonna find some chick when no one knows nothin’ and there ain’t no clues in the news?”

  “I … have my ways.” When Joe lifted a brow, Finn merely shrugged. “You and Charlie aren’t the only ones with resources.” He took his phone back and stood to throw his trash away. “I’m going to bed.”

  They both knew it was to avoid further questioning, but luckily Joe didn’t protest. After a few minutes both were in their respective beds—Joe insisted they book a single room with double beds, which Finn knew was another way to keep an eye on him. Despite his exhaustion and his body’s desire to give in to the surprisingly comfortable bed and pillow molding to him, Finn found his mind racing.

  He was worried. Though he felt Snow in the back of his mind, it was a weak manifestation, like a memory he couldn’t quite remember. And, worse, he couldn’t hear her. Part of him feared he’d imagined her calling his name, that maybe he’d brought on the nausea himself out of panic and his whispered name a mere wish for her safety. But just as soon as he wondered it, he convinced himself it had to be Snow. Her aura was familiar, distraught as it was.

  I know you’re with me, Snow-Glow. Hold on for me, okay?

  Sleep tugged at his eyes, dropping them closed as he continued his tormented thoughts. Where was Snow? What was she doing—what was being done to her? Was she okay? Would she be able to talk to him again, give him clues as to her whereabouts?

  Tomorrow morning he would scour the news for more information, search for some piece of information, no matter how big or small, he could use along the way to Georgia. He could only hope that, wherever she was, Snow could hold on just a little bit longer.

  HE SAID TO hold on. He sent her his strength, his courage. But it wasn’t enough.

  Snow laid on her side on the bumpy mattress, arms and legs listless, eyes staring vacantly at the wall. The thin beam of light around the boarded-up window told her it was daytime. When was the last time she slept? She’d watched the light change as it played across the wall for hours. If she tried hard enough, she could focus on the shadows as they moved and block out what was happening around her, to her, and pretend she didn’t exist at all.

  But, try as she might, Snow couldn’t make the sounds, smells, sights of this horrible room disappear. They enveloped and suffocated her. They made her weak. She’d always thought herself to be so smart, yet she couldn’t think of a way out. So strong, yet they had taken her will, the fight for her soul, within days. Shame flooded her veins.

  A princess would never feel ashamed. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Snow followed it with another. Stupid, stupid girl. Grow up already.

  Once, in another life, dreams of being a princess weren’t so foolish. Far-fetched, perhaps, but innocent, every little girl’s fantasy to one day grow up and live in a castle with a man who loved her so much he would slay dragons to save her. Snow could remember playing with Amelia, who would sometimes indulge her with a few hours of dressing up dolls, though her disdain for girly things always showed through.

  It helped to think about such childhood things, focusing on memory rather than present, so Snow chose a specific day—her eleventh birthday. Amelia thought she was too old for a princess party, and maybe she was, but for a little girl who grew up with nothing, one day where she was royalty was the most perfect day of them all.

  “No princess is complete without her tiara,” her mother had said the morning of her party, placing a silver plastic tiara atop a young Snow’s head. Brimming with excitement, Snow had raced to the mirror above her dresser, admiring her crown from every angle. There were green and pink stones all along the sides, with one big, clear, oval-shaped gem in the center. It sparkled in the light, making her look and feel like a true fancy lady.

  “I’m a real princess now,” she had proclaimed as she stood straight and tall like royalty would do. She lifted a hand in a regal wave. “A princess who talks to animals and sings songs that make everyone happy.”

  “So lame.” From the doorway, Amelia had scoffed, tossing back her long hair dismissively. “Princesses are so girly.”

  Snow remembered sticking her tongue out and adjusting her tiara. “You’re just jealous that I’m the prettiest of them all and will live happily ever after with my prince.”

  There was no such thing as happily ever after. There were no princes and princesses, only plastic tiaras to make little girls think they were more important than they really were in the world. Doubt and hate shattered her cheerful memory, lifting Snow back into the now. Princesses are f
or babies. Happily ever after is for morons.

  Don’t say that, Snow-Glow.

  No. She couldn’t let Finn be here, not now, not in this moment. Snow squeezed her eyes shut, blanking her mind, her emotions, her thoughts. Deep in her mind she could feel him searching for the truth of her present, for clues, but the truth was too awful a burden to bear.

  Stop it, Snow. Stop pushing me away. Let me help you.

  She wanted him to go away. If he knew what was happening, it would be too embarrassing to bear.

  Snow, talk to me. Tell me where you are.

  She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know anything except her father was somehow involved and a man named DU took pleasure in making her scream. What good was it to take comfort in Finn coming for her, if no one knew where she was, including her?

  Answer me, Snow. I’m right here. Talk to me.

  He wasn’t right here. She was alone in the cold room with nothing but the light and shadows on the wall to accompany her.

  She couldn’t stop the unrelenting abuse or the stifling loneliness, but she could, just this once, stop Finn from feeling it. I’m sorry, Finn-Monster. I can’t let you suffer too.

  She’d shut him out. From her thoughts, from what she was feeling, from everything.

  The worst part was, he understood why. He knew what it was like to have secrets and need to keep them. But this secret was too big and he needed to be part of it, which was why he had locked himself in the single-stall gas station bathroom hours after getting back on the road, sitting on the sticky floor with his back to the wall and headphones in his ears to block out the rest of the world.

  “Talk to me, Snow,” he said to himself as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, concentrating on the static in his head. Never before did he have to work so hard to find her. It had always been so easy in the past, a simple flicking of a switch to connect with Snow and have a conversation. Other times he didn’t have to do anything at all. Her voice just appeared in his head.

  “Come on, Snow.”

  Sounds of the gas station disappeared—the hum of the beer cooler on the other side of the wall, the dulled voices in conversation, the steady drip of a leaky sink. Where are you, Snow? Talk to me, he said on repeat in his head, waiting for a response each time and getting nothing. She wasn’t talking.

  “Fine,” he muttered, now almost angry with her refusal to let him in. His eyes opened and searched the bathroom as he considered other ways to connect, not really seeing anything until they landed on a piece of metal by the trash can. Retrieving it, Finn stared down at the scrap metal, a cold slab of steel with thin, jagged edges. It might have once been part of a pipe, or maybe some kind of frame. Whatever it once was, its future was destined for something else. Already Finn could envision its potential.

  “Focus, dumbass.” His fingers closed around the metal, offering a small slice of comfort as he again turned his thoughts to Snow. “All right. You don’t wanna talk, then I’m gonna feel.” Changing tracks, he stopped listening for her voice and instead tried to center himself so he could hone in on her emotions.

  His fingers worked over the steel as he concentrated, taking long breaths with slow exhales, imagining his soul lifting from his body. It took a few minutes, but he felt it—a prickling of his skin as it felt unfamiliar surroundings. The hard concrete against his back softened into a lumpy mattress. His feet chilled as though his boots never covered them. The smell of smoke and blood filled his nostrils, as the taste of bile hit his tongue. And parts of his body hurt that should never ache. Bones felt broken, his back burned, every part of his face swollen.

  What had they done to her?

  Finn didn’t let himself rage. He kept his own emotions in check, finding it easier to do the more he kept his concentration. He could feel Snow’s sorrow and her desire to give up. But there was something else too, a determination and will to live she hadn’t discovered yet.

  You’re strong, Snow. You just have to feel it.

  He owes a debt he can’t pay.

  The man’s voice nearly startled Finn out of his focus. It was so clear, it seemed the other person was sitting right next to him. He wondered if Snow had fallen asleep, her barriers down and allowing him open access. Whatever it was, he took advantage of his ability to eavesdrop.

  He’s in over his head, the man was saying, likely to another of Snow’s abductors. He knows we have her and what we will do.

  Silence—another person speaking, he wondered—before, He was given a choice. Pay his debt, or give us the girl and all would be forgiven.

  Who cares how long she lasts? As long as I get what I want, it doesn’t matter what happens. Don’t worry. You’ll get your chance with her and her sister.

  Sister. The word resounded in Finn’s head. These men weren’t going to stop with Snow. They would go after her sister as well, and their father was doing nothing to stop it. And why? Because he owed a debt? But what kind?

  Banging on the door ripped Finn from Snow’s world. His heart began to race at the intrusion and he realized he was shivering despite the heat in the bathroom.

  “What the fuck are you doing!” Joe called from the other side. “I’ve been waitin’ out there for twenty minutes! Get the fuck out!”

  Grumbling to himself, Finn stood and took a moment to compose himself. All the things Snow felt were gone, replaced by his own environment, but he still felt off. Overwhelmed and tired, but also at a loss. He learned nothing new. Not where Snow was, not who took her. Just that her abductors had no intention of letting her go.

  “I’m coming!” he yelled back when Joe pounded on the door again. Shoving the piece of steel in his pocket, Finn wrenched the door open and shoved past the man, stomping out to the car and getting in the passenger side. “You’re driving.”

  “Oh, I’m drivin’,” Joe replied, sarcasm thick. But he got in the driver’s seat and started the ignition, then turned to Finn. “What the fuck happened in there? You got some kind of stomach shit or you in there plottin’ against me?”

  Exasperated, Finn shook his head and raked a hand through messy, unwashed hair. “Why are you always thinking I’m plotting against you?”

  “‘Cause I know you. Always wantin’ more jobs. My jobs. Thinking your connection with Charlie will get you special treatment.”

  Finn laughed at that. “Special treatment? I still get the shit jobs, Joe. Don’t act like you’re on the way out.”

  “Damn right I’m not.” Joe nodded and shoved the car into drive. “I’m takin’ over when the old man retires. You keep that in mind.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  With a roll of his eyes, Finn opened a bag of chips and shoved a few in his mouth. He stared out the window at the passing trees as they got back on the highway. They’d be stopping soon to sleep, both of them exhausted, Finn needing to recharge if he was going to be anywhere close to useful when he finally found Snow. He thought about the connection made earlier, going over and over each feeling, each word, trying to glean something new.

  “What’s with you and those stupid things, anyway?”

  Once again pulled from his thoughts, Finn glanced over at Joe, who motioned with his head. Finn looked down at his lap. He’d torn the chip bag into strips and was wrapping them around an old pen one by one. With the silver trunk and green pieces arching off the plastic, the piece vaguely resembled a tree.

  “Don’t know,” he answered Joe. “Just like making them.”

  “What for? What’s the point?”

  Finn shrugged. “Keeps my hands busy, I guess.” Embarrassed by the scrutiny, he tossed the pen-tree to the floorboard. “Find us a cheap motel. We’ll stop for the night and get an early start, get in Georgia by morning.”

  The car was silent, Joe stealing glances over at his passenger every now and then. “You’re a weird kid,” he finally said. “Makin’ all those doll things, hangin’ out in gas station bathrooms.”

  “So?”

  “So, just know
that I’m watchin’ you. If this trip is anythin’ other than to find some chick, I’ll put a bullet in you myself.”

  You can try, Finn thought wryly. But to Joe he said, “Good thing it’s all for some chick then, huh?” then settled back, tuning the other man out the rest of the drive.

  BLOOD DRIPPED FROM her nose, matching the water steadily seeping from the ceiling. On the floor, Snow drew her legs up to her chest and rested her head upon them, her body starting to rock. She hurt so badly, in every part of her right down to her toes.

  “What did I do?” she whispered, needing to hear a voice in the silence of this terrifying house, needing the comfort of something familiar even if she couldn’t answer all the questions swimming in her mind. “Why is this happening?”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her closed eyes as her mind forced her to remember all the horrible things it had experienced. The man, who’d identified himself only as DU, had taken from her every scream, every plea, she had left. Never before had she known she could be in so much pain, that her body could take so much and still allow her heart to beat.

  Through every punch, every open-handed slap, every foot to her ribs, every … force she wasn’t strong enough to verbalize, she continued to curse her family, her father. Snow knew her father came across bad people in his line of work. In fact, his work was the reason why she feared strangers for so long, always being warned not to trust anyone she didn’t know personally, because there were always bad people who might want to take revenge on her family. But never did she imagine those bad people actually would come after her, all to get back at her father.

  “Please make it stop, Daddy,” she said into her knees, hoping, praying, that if DU really did want revenge, then he’d at least put up a ransom so the police would know who had her, and how to save her. But what if he didn’t? What if her father really was involved with bad people like DU suggested, and couldn’t go to the police? She couldn’t fathom the possibility.