by Chloe Walsh
"You've got yourself a good bitch there, Capaldi," the cruel one laughed. "Still sitting in her chair like an obedient dog. You and that brother of yours trained her well. Too bad you won't be around for the trade –"
"Fuck…you," Chris choked out. "Leave her –"
"Out of this?" the man offered with a chuckle. "Now, you know that won't happen. She's valuable, kid. At least until he comes back. After that, who knows what'll happen – is that your phone?" the man demanded then. "Are you on the fucking phone?"
"You fucking dumbass."
"Do you know what you've done? Could've been just you, kid, but you had to blow it."
"Fuck this, Catochi. Let's get out of here."
"Hello, princess," a deep, gravelly voice came down the line, the voice of the first man, the leader. "Are you listening?"
Eyes widening in horror, I bit down hard on my coat and held my breath, not daring to make a sound, phone clutched with a death grip, as his voice continued to fill my ears. "Can you hear me, princess? Yeah, I know you can. I can taste your fear. Your heart's pounding right about now, isn't it? Bones rattling, teeth chattering? Hmm. Yeah, pretty little princess with the golden hair, you should be scared. See, I'm a bad man. And you, Ramona Dillon, are surrounded by very bad, very dangerous men. So, listen carefully –"
"Romi…run," Chris groaned before coughing fitfully. "Run, babe."
"Don’t even think about running," the man warned. "That's a very bad move, princess."
Swallowing down a sob, I clenched my eyes shut, feeling the tears drip down my cheeks, while I continued to hold the phone to my ear, not daring to speak a word in response.
"Here's what you're gonna do," the man continued. "You're gonna find your little boyfriend, and you're gonna make this whole mess disappear. You're gonna be a good little princess and do exactly what you're told."
"Romi, I'm sorry –"
"Then you're gonna run on home to your daddy and forget everything you think you saw tonight, forget everything you think you heard. You're gonna park your sweet little ass in your daddy's mansion and stay there. You got that, princess?"
Trembling, I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Because if you don't do what you're told, he dies," he continued. "If you talk, he dies." A low chuckle escaped him. "And I'm not talking about mister knight-in-shining-armor here."
A shudder racked through me, more violent than I'd ever experienced. This had to be a nightmare. I was dreaming. I had to be. This couldn’t be real.
"Yeah, you know who I'm talking about, don’t you, princess?" The man laughed. "We've got eyes on him, too. The other brother. One word from you to the cops or your daddy and he's a dead man. You even think about running away, and I'll put a bullet in his brain."
Sketch.
Sketch.
Sketch.
"Now, I hate to cut this short, but we'll be seeing each other real soon," he said. "Be a good girl, do what you're told, and keep your mouth shut."
The line went dead then, and I didn’t move a muscle. I didn’t even blink. Instead, I remained motionless on the ground of the grimy back alley, with my body pressed to the dumpster, listening to their footsteps retreat.
Seconds turned into minutes before I dared to unlock my limbs. Breathing quick and uneven, I fell to my knees and slowly peeked around the dumpster.
"Chris," I cried out hoarsely when my gaze landed on his still frame. He was all alone now, the men long gone. "Chris!" Sniffling, I scrambled clumsily to my feet and ran for him. "Oh god, Chris!"
Not stopping until I reached him, I collapsed in a heap at his side, my trembling hands hunting for any sign of life. When my fingertips found the slightest hint of a pulse, a sob of relief tore from my lips. "It's okay," I sniffled, pulling his head onto my lap and holding him close to me, ignoring the puddle of his blood we were both sitting in. "I'm gonna get you help, okay?"
"Romi," he whispered, breathing labored. "Go."
"I can't," I cried, rocking him in my arms like you would a tiny child. "I can't leave you. That's insane. We need to get help."
"No," he ground out. "You don’t understand."
"Shh." Sniffling, I leaned close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His face was so mangled that I could hardly make out his eyes. "You'll be okay." Shaking, I reached for my phone that I had dropped and quickly dialed 911. "I'm gonna fix this."
"Don’t." Gasping for air, Chris smacked the phone out of my hand. "No cops."
"Are you crazy?" I practically screamed. "You're dying!"
"I know," he whispered, attempting to breathe through his nose, only to splutter and cough. "It's okay."
"It's not okay, Chris," I cried out harshly. "None of this is okay." Blood. There was so much blood. All over him. Pouring out of his body. "Oh god," I sobbed as my gaze roamed over him. "What did those monsters do to you?" My eyes landed on his left hip and I paled as thick oozy blood gushed from the wound. "They shot you, Chris," I whispered, trembling. "Chris, you've been shot." The shirt he was wearing was soaked through with blood. His jeans were the same. It was literally leaking from every part of him. "Oh my god, you're bleeding out."
"I know," he panted. "The car. Help me get in."
"But, Chris –"
"Do it, Romi!" he snarled, chest rising and falling quickly. "Fucking do what you're told for once in your life, dammit!"
"Okay," I cried. "Don’t shout at me. I'm scared."
"I know, babe," he wheezed and the rattling noise coming from deep in his chest terrified me to my core. "Just do this for me."
Completely bewildered, I unlocked the car and helped Chris off the ground. It took several attempts, but I finally managed to hoist him into the passenger seat.
"Okay," I sniffled, climbing into the driver's seat. "What now?"
"Drive," he instructed, hunched sideways in the seat.
"Wh-what?" My eyes widened in horror. "You know I can't drive for shit. I'm bad, Chris. I'm not good –"
"Put your seatbelt on and drive the damn car," he cut me off, panting and wheezing. "Do it now, Romi!"
"Okay!" Sniffling, I quickly fastened my seatbelt and jammed the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life and a sob tore through me. "I n-need to get you to a h-hospital." Switching on the windshield wipers, I gripped the wheel tightly and blinked away the tears clouding my vison. "That's what we're g-gonna do, okay?"
"No." He shook his head. "You need to drive. Just drive, babe."
"No," I sobbed. "I need to get you to a doctor."
"I'm a dead man," he breathed. "I am. Whether I go to a hospital or not. I'm a dead man walking, Romi. They'll find me and they'll end me."
"No…" I couldn’t stop the tears from scalding my cheeks. "What do you need from me?"
"Drive," he instructed weakly.
"Where to?"
"Pocketful."
"But you said to get out of –"
"I know what I said," he gurgled and then coughed loudly. "But they know. They fucking know. And now you've gotta do this."
"Do what?" I demanded, hysterical now. "Know what? Oh my god, you're gonna die," I screamed, veering recklessly between traffic until the lights of the city were behind us. "I need to get you help and I'm going the wrong way!"
"It's okay. It's my own… fault," he ground out, wheezing. "You gotta be…brave for me now."
"Chris, what did you do?" I sobbed, gripping the wheel tightly as I cried hard and ugly. "Who were those men? What are you involved in?"
"It's not me," he breathed. "It's them."
"Them?" I shook my head. "Who's them?"
"Listen to me –" Coughing and spluttering, he reached a hand across the console and attempted to squeeze my thigh. "This is all my fault, okay? I'm so fucking sorry, Romi. I am. I shouldn't have called you back tonight. It was stupid. I should've hung up the damn phone when they caught up with me again. I just, I couldn’t leave you like this. Defenseless. I need you to know what's happening. I didn’t wanna
die for nothing –" A pained groan tore from his chest and he began to shake violently. "I don’t think I have much time left."
"Don’t say that!" I screamed, hands leaping off the wheel to clutch my hair. "Oh my god, oh my god, I can't deal with this."
"I've written it all down," he strangled out. "Everything. It's all there."
"What is?" I cried. "I don’t understand what's happening here."
"My journal," he whispered. "It's in my bookbag." He hacked up another clump of blood. "Backseat."
Frantic, I shoved a hand into the backseat and dragged his bag between the seats. "This one?" I asked, rummaging around in the bag and retrieving the brown, leather-bound journal he was never without.
Nodding weakly, Chris used his bloodied hand to push the journal onto my lap. "Take it. Keep it safe. Don't let them get it. Right now, I need you to keep on forgetting, but when it's time to remember, you'll find what you need in here."
"No." Shaking my head, I refuted those stupid words. "I need to know what's happening right now!"
"You already know," he choked out. "You're just not ready to remember."
"But that doesn’t make any sense!"
"He doesn't know I know," he slurred, head drooping forward. "He doesn’t know who he is. He isn’t who you think he is," he breathed. "None of them are. And you can't be in Pocketful after your eighteenth birthday. They're coming for you," he strangled out, blood dribbling down his lips. "For both of you."
"Who?" I demanded. "Who doesn't know, Chris? Who's coming for me?"
"Seth," he groaned. "It's almost time."
"Seth?" I shook my head in horror. "Who's Seth?"
"You know."
"No, I don't!"
"And Jacob."
"Chris, I don’t know any Seth or Jacob," I strangled out, sobbing hard. "You're scaring me."
"It's all there, Romi," he wheezed. "In my journal." Reaching up, he tapped my temple. "And in here."
"No, it's not," I sobbed. "I don’t know what you're talking about. I don’t know anything!"
"Yes, you do," he choked out. "I promise." Gasping for air, he clutched my hand weakly in his trembling one. "Now, I need you to do one more thing for me."
Bawling like a baby, I forced myself to nod. "O-okay."
"I need you to crash this car," he wheezed. "I need you to make this go away. Make what…happened to me look like an accident and never…go back on your word."
"What?" My eyes widened in horror. "What the fuck?"
"I'm serious," he whispered, eyelids drooping. "Those men…babe, trust me. This is what you have to do." Another fit of coughing engulfed him, this time producing dark, almost black blood from his lips. "They're challenging you… What do you think that phone call was about? They're watching us right now. Don’t doubt that. You have to do this…it will buy you time…"
"Time for what?"
"To escape." He groaned in obvious agony. "To remember."
"I don’t care, Chris. I'm not –"
"Do it, Romi!"
"I can't!" I screamed, delirious.
"You have no choice."
"I'm so scared."
"Good. Your fear might just keep you alive."
"I don’t want you to die."
"Do you want Sketch to die?" he slurred, gagging and choking on his own blood. "Because he's next if you don’t do this!"
"No!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "No, dammit!"
"Please…"
"But why?" I cried hoarsely, unable to see through my tears. "Why is this happening to us?"
"You know," he gurgled. "You already know, Romi."
"I don’t," I wailed, trembling from head to toe.
Silence enveloped us for several minutes while his breathing grew more erratic and my mind taunted me with images of a life I wasn't sure existed…
The sound of a small child crying.
A dark room.
Men's voices.
Blue eyes.
The taste of fear.
Pain.
Bad words.
Death.
Whiskey eyes.
My mother crying.
A lock and key.
Their screams.
Round windows.
Flesh.
Hushed promises.
The boy.
The boy.
The boy.
And me…
"The boy!" I blurted out, feeling frantic. "What boy?"
"You know," was all Chris replied, voice barely more than a whisper.
"Chris, I don’t –"
"He's coming for you."
"Help me, dammit!"
"Finish this, Romi… Crash the car and protect…my brother," he slurred, sagging forward. "Tell him I'm sorry for what I did."
"No, no, no," I cried out when he slumped face down on his own lap. "Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me on my own, Chris."
"Tell him I love him," he continued, and the rattling in his chest deepened. "Tell him…tell him…to run…"
"Chris!" I cried, pulling the car over to the side of the road. Killing the engine, I unbuckled my belt and scrambled across the console. "Wake up," I sobbed, forcing him to sit back up. "God, Chris, you can't do this to me." Using all of my strength, I forced him into a sitting position and held his face in my hands. "Open your eyes."
He didn’t and I knew that he would never open his eyes again.
"No!" The scream that tore from my chest was almost feral. "No!" Hysterical, I scrambled onto his lap and clung to his lifeless frame. "Don’t go." Crying hard and ugly, I clenched my eyes shut and prayed for someone to make this stop. To bring back Chris and erase the last three hours of my life. Ignoring the low, keening noise coming from my chest, I remained on his lap, feeling his body grow colder with each passing minute.
Finish this, Romi.
Finish this.
I don’t want to.
You have to.
Protect him.
Sketch.
Sketch!
"Sketch," I sniffled, feeling a tiny spark of something still flickering in my heart. Numb to the bone, I climbed back into the driver's seat. "Okay." Movements robotic, I reached for my seatbelt and snapped it into place. "I can do this." With my hands covered in blood, I slowly turned the key in the ignition, feeling nothing when the engine roared back to life. "I can –" holding my breath when a wave of heartache threatened to engulf me, I forced my mind to empty, "do this," I finished, pulling back onto the road.
Clenching the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white, I pressed the petal to the floor and ignored the tears trickling down my cheeks as I picked up speed. I kept on speeding, allowing the Rover to eat up the miles, until the familiar Welcome to Pocketful signpost came into view. Only then did I pull the wheel and veer off road, heading straight for the –
"Catochi!" Gasping for air, my eyes flew open. "Catochi," I slurred, pulling and yanking on the leather cuffs binding my hands and feet to the hospital bed. "Catochi, Catochi, Catochi!"
"Alright, Romi, just take a breath," someone told me, but I couldn’t see who. I was too busy freaking the hell out. "You're perfectly safe and everything is fine."
"No. You're wrong –" Shaking my head, I yanked on the restraints. "Let me out!" I shrieked, panicking. "You don’t understand. I need to –"
"Call Dr. Hardy," the voice said as a pair of strong hands clamped down on my shoulders. "She's not cooperating again."
"No!" Thrashing wildly, I desperately tried and failed to free myself. "Get off me," I snarled, roughly jerking away from the weight pressing down on me. "You can't keep me here against my will."
"Romi, listen to me," the nurse tried to coax as she leaned over me, pressing down hard on my arms. "You need to calm down. You don’t want the doctor to sedate you again, do you?"
I was done listening. I was done being calm. I was fucking done, period. Lunging forward, I bit her as hard as I could, sinking my teeth into her shoulder.
"Ah!" the nurse yelped,
jerking away from me like a scalded dog.
"Let. Me. Go," I hissed, breathing hard and fast. "Please."
"Now that was a mistake," a deeper voice said. A man, I noted through the haze, as a doctor in a white coat approached me, syringe in hand. "Say goodnight, Romi."
Willing some super human strength and coming up empty, I let out a pained scream as the needle entered my vein. "You don’t understand. Please. Please. I just need to see Sk–" My words broke off as a wave of heat rushed through my body, changing the rhythm of my heartbeat, and making my eyelids droop. Moments later, the darkness swallowed me up in a cocoon of nothingness.
Chapter Four
Sketch
"I've compiled a list," Presley announced proudly when I stepped out of the shower later that night. Sprawled across the lone double bed in our room, with an array of papers littered around him, he drummed his fingers against the thread-worn, brown blanket and grinned. "You know, I was always a fan of Clue growing up. Have you ever played? I could ask the lady behind the desk if she has any board games guests can borrow?"
Considering we were staying in a rundown motel that I was fairly sure contained more bugs than a junk yard, I somehow doubted the owners supplied their guests with entertainment. The fact that we had prepaid with cash and hadn't been asked for I.D when checking in only strengthened my theory. "Forget the games." I folded my arms across my chest and leveled him with a hard look. "You made a list?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Holden, I made a list."
"Don’t do that," I warned, shifting in discomfort. "It's weird."
"Don't do what?" he mused, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Refer to you by your given name?" I nodded and he smirked. "You've got it, buddy."
"So," unfolding my arms, I readjusted and tightened the towel around my waist before moving for the can of deodorant on top of the television set, "what about this list?"
"Ah, yes, the list." Reaching for one of the notepads on the mattress, he swiped up a pen and began to scribble furiously. "Well, I figured that while we wait to spring Romi from the joint later tonight, we should compile a list of potential suspects in Chris's death." Clearing his throat, he added, "I've already made a start on said list."
"Good idea," I agreed, squirting both pits with spray. "Did you write down the four men Romi saw follow Chris out of the restaurant that night?"