The Normal Kind of Crazy (Crazy #1)

by L. J. Voss

  CHAPTER TEN

  - Imogen -

  I’m first aware of the tight burning sensation in my shoulders and chest. Next the throbbing pain in my head and behind my closed eyelids rears its ugly head. With every heartbeat the pressure in my head throbs, causing my eyes to water. Confused as to why I’m in so much pain, I try to open my eyes. All I manage to accomplish is to blink a few times and let out a breathy grunt. As my mind’s coming into focus I come to the conclusion that I’m sitting in a chair and my arms are tied behind my back. I know my hands are behind my back, and have been for a little while based off of the puffiness in my hands and fingers. It feels like tiny pins and needles are poking my hands and fingers but the pooling of blood has caused a numbing effect so it’s more annoying than painful.

  “Good morning, sunshine! It’s about time you woke up. I barely hit you and you’ve been out for hours. I was afraid I had killed you but I could see you breathing and I kept checking your pulse. That would not have been good. They need you alive, at least for right now. I’ve been so bored waiting for you to wake up.”

  My heart plummets to my feet when I hear his voice. My mind is flooded with the memories of the events that lead to me being tied in this chair. Fear and panic wash over me. Shiny brown leather shoes step into my line of sight and the pants attached to those shoes bend. A face that used to make me laugh peeks into view. Hands that have held me through tears grab my knees. I shudder at the sensation that brings and nausea rolls through my stomach. The sides of his mouth kick up and before I can stop myself I spit out, “Why are you doing this? I thought we were friends!” Tears are flowing freely and the new sting of his betrayal puts the rest of the pain out of my mind. There is no stopping the words and thoughts spilling out of my mouth. “Who are you?” I whisper as I choke on the sobs wracking my body. I try to bring my crying under control. Tears won’t be of any use to me here. After a couple deep breaths I glance up.

  He stands and starts to walk away from me. I use this opportunity to look around and try to get a feel for where I am. Helplessness envelopes me as I glance around a large open room. I’m not trained for this. I don’t know what time it is or where I am. I never should have been so cavalier about this. It was easy to joke about when Calder was with me. He made me feel safe. He tried to tell me how serious it was but it still didn’t sink in. I look back up at Michael and another wave of nausea hits my stomach. To think that someone I trusted and cared for could do something so evil. Tears spring from my eyes again as the image of Calder falling replays in my mind. I’ve got to try to pull it together. I might not know what to do to get myself out of this, but I can’t just sit here and let him do whatever he wants to me. I go through every movie I’ve ever seen about kidnapping or escaping. If only my dad was Liam Neeson then I wouldn’t have to worry.

  Looking around I try to take in as much detail as possible, not that I know if it will help at all. I doubt there is going to be a glowing exit sign. I’m guessing it’s around dusk since there isn’t much light and the windows are tinted pinkish orange. It looks like I’m in the middle of an abandoned warehouse or something like that. I’m in one big room. There are windows high along the left wall, too high for any hope of climbing through them. It’s been abandoned for a while. The grime coating the windows looks years thick and there are broken panes in at least four of the windows. My shoes slide easily along on the floor thanks to the layer of dust and dirt. That won’t help in a getaway attempt. Knowing my luck, I’ll probably slip and fall and kill myself for him. From what I can see there seems to be what looks like an office towards the far right end of the room. There’s another small room next to that and I think I can make out a small sink so it’s probably safe to say that that’s a bathroom. That’s about all I can make out. I’m not hearing car horns or dogs barking. In fact it’s eerily quiet. From my review of movies that probably means we are in the middle of nowhere. Isn’t that usually what the killers do? Take you miles away from anywhere useful. So even if I managed to get out of the warehouse I would be wandering around outside with no way to get anywhere. Then he’d just kill me out there. He starts talking and my attention is pulled back to him.

  “Well, you know mostly who I am. What you don’t know is that I have a certain set of skills.” At his reference to the movie Taken, he giggles. His reference makes me shiver and I’m disgusted that we watched that movie together cuddled up on my couch. The fact that we both thought of that movie makes me sick. “I’ve always wanted to say that. Actually, I’m a hit man. Although that title is so blah. I need something snazzy. You know how I love abbreviations so what about C.E.O., chief extermination officer.” He laughs at his own joke and continues, “No, that’s ew. It’s not exciting at all. I’ll have to keep thinking about it. Any who, I was hired to watch you and wait. This has actually been longer than most of my other jobs so that’s fun. I settled myself into your life and decided to have a little fun. Then a few days ago I got the order to take you. Not take you out, not yet at least. And well, here we are.”

  “So everything’s been a lie? It was all fake?” My heart hurts to hear that our friendship has all been a lie, a ruse to get close to me and get me to trust him.

  “Oh honey, you can’t fake this much fabulousness. It’s brilliant really, the perfect cover. Who would suspect a gay artist to be a hit man? Everyone loves a gay best friend,” he pauses almost like he is waiting for me to agree. When I don’t he continues, “No, the hit man thing came later. My artistic talent was evident at a young age. That’s how they noticed me. It just so happened that my skills weren’t limited to paint and canvas. I was in a group home and one day a man and a woman came and took me. I was always getting in trouble. Pesky morals and emotions never held me back from getting what I wanted. They were just happy to get to rid of me so they gave me to the first person to come looking. I was the perfect student and a quick learner. I actually made my first kill by my sixteenth birthday. Oh well, enough about me.” To add insult to injury he adds, “To answer your question, obvi I faked the friendship. I’m such an amazing actor. It’s really kind of sad. You were so desperate for friendship you didn’t even question anything.”

  I have no idea why he told me his whole life story. Hearing everything in our friendship was a lie hurts. I actually truly cared for him, or the him that I thought I knew. When he tells me I was so desperate I didn’t question anything, I feel like an idiot. How could I have not seen this evil lurking inside him? Thinking back over our short friendship I realize he is partially right. I never once questioned anything. He never talked about himself. We never went to his place. I’ve been wondering why he was never caught by Calder. Calder has been watching me for the past few weeks and Michael has been around longer than that. I realize he always used the back entrance and only ever came over at night. They say hindsight is twenty-twenty and, boy, is that true. Every single thing he has said or not said, done or not done now makes sense. I know there’s no hope in reasoning with him but I try anyway, “You don’t have to do this. Just let me go. I’m sure my father will give you whatever you want.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” his face turns into a condescending fake sympathetic frown, “It isn’t personal. That would require me caring about you at all. What I feel for you is nothing. You are a means to an end and that end is lots and lots of money. Besides, my reputation is worth even more than you. You wouldn’t imagine how hard I’ve had to work to prove myself. And it’s paid off and I’m now one of the most sought out hired help.”

  You would think after everything he’s said and everything I’ve gone through I should be paralyzed by fear. Even right now, I’m strapped to a chair with my arms tied behind my back and I’m most likely going to be meeting my maker pretty soon. But I can’t help the sarcastic retort from popping out of my mouth, “Oh, your mother would be so proud.”

  His demeanor changes and his face narrows. I’m saved by the bell. Or I should say ring since
his phones rings right at that moment. He walks away and answers it. I try to listen but I can’t hear anything so I try to find something to help me escape. Not that if I find anything it will help since my self-defense and escaping skills haven’t magically improved during our conversation. Mabel was right and I should have taken that self-defense class. Regrets aren’t going to help me escape. Craning my neck around, I see that the back wall is one big garage like door and one regular door in the corner. No help there. I glance up and see that there’s actually a little upstairs area, again, not remotely useful unless I can fly. I let out a breath as any hope I had of escaping deflates.

  I glance up when I hear Michael’s voice turn harsh and cold. His footsteps pound into the floor as he shoves his phone in my face. “Say something.” Looking from the phone to his face, I shake my head. If I can’t escape and he’s using me to blackmail my dad who can help put away a bad man and save people’s lives then I’ll have to be strong and brave. He narrows his eyes at me as he says slowly repeats, “Say something.” I turn my head away. That’s where I make my mistake. With my head turned I don’t have any warning to the knife that slashes across my stomach. My breath catches at the sting and then my strangled scream comes once my mind processes the pain. The knife didn’t go deep enough to cut through the muscle or anything vital but based on the burn and the pain it is definitely going to need stitches. His smile shows he is proud of himself and that he’s enjoying this. I still don’t know how I never saw or sensed this side to Michael. He’s always been sassy and not very attuned to other people’s needs, but the cold calculated look covering his face chills me to the bone. “Want to try this again, sunshine?”

  There are tears streaming down my cheeks as he places his phone next to my ear. I can hear my name being called on the other end. The voice sounds frantic. Apparently I took too long to say something because I feel the bite of his knife swipe just above my left knee. All thoughts and hopes of being strong and self sacrificing fly out the window. I’m scared that I’m going to be tortured to death for a man I’ve never met and never will get the chance to meet. “Help. Help. Please help me. Please.” I sob into the phone.

  Michael places the phone back up against his ear and walks away again. I’m disappointed that I gave in. Since the beginning of this whole ordeal right up until Michael cut me I’ve had a handle on this situation. Or at least as much of a handle as anyone could hope to have. But it’s all too much. I don’t want to be strong and brave anymore and all those heroines are full of crap. Self-preservation is too strong of an instinct to ignore. It dawns on me that just because I had a momentary lapse in my composure doesn’t mean I can’t still be the strong heroine in my story. If no white knight is going to come rescue me, I’ll have to find a way to rescue myself. When he gets off the phone, I take a cue from those books and movies and in a bid to buy some time I tell him I have to go to the bathroom.

  His reply is quick and short, “No.”

  I try to think of another excuse when an idea pops into my head. I’d already used it as an excuse once today, why not keep with the pattern? Michael’s always been disgusted and put off with anything having to do with that time of the month, so I repeat my lie from earlier. “I’m on my period. So unless you want a bloody mess to clean up, and not the type of bloody mess you’re used to cleaning up. Let. Me. Use. The. Bathroom.”

  Looking me up and down his face wrinkles with disgust, “How anyone finds anything to do with the female anatomy attractive is beyond me; it’s appalling.” Letting out a huff, he continues, “Fine. But if you think this is your big chance to get away, know that I’m smarter than you. There is no way for you to escape from the bathroom.” I feel the ropes around my wrists give way and then hear a click and the feel of cool metal replaces the ropes. His hand wraps around my bicep and he yanks me to my feet. I’m shoved in front of him and he pushes me to the bathroom. The empty handcuff is clicked around the sink plumbing. “Ugh, I’m going to be out there. No way am I staying in here. Yell when you’re done.” He slams the door on his way out.

  Reaching my arm as far as I can, I twist and look around. My side burns and I wince at the pain stretching open the wound causes. Only a small sink and an old toilet make up the bathroom. There isn’t even a window. I plop on the toilet as despair and hopelessness crashes into me for what feels like the millionth time. The reality of the situation is I’m trapped and there is no hope that I can get out myself. No chance to be the hero of my own story. My only hope is that Calder will find me. Only, I don’t even know if Calder is alive. Sobs rack my body as I silently weep. No one is going to find me and no one is going to save me. There doesn’t seem much of a point to even fight anymore. My hand automatically goes to my necklace and I panic when it’s not there. Frantic I look all around the bathroom and even in my shirt. I must have lost it in the struggle with Michael. My last connection to my mom is lost. Bone numbing despair hits me and I cry. They always say to not let them see you cry. Don’t show weakness. I’m numb and no longer care. Dejected, I yell out for him to come and get me.

  I’m thrown back into the chair and this time instead of rope my wrists are handcuffed to each other with the metal handcuffs from the bathroom. The rope is now used to secure each of my ankles to one of the legs of the chair. Darkness has washed over the warehouse. All of the overhead lights are either burned out or turned off except for the row right above me. My stomach growls and I realize how hungry I am. Michael must have heard it because he looks at my stomach and then shrugs his shoulders and walks away towards the office. I’m left alone and time seems at a standstill. The only other light is pouring through the office door that Michael left slightly ajar.

  I’ve been staring up at the light for who knows how long. My neck is starting to get stiff and sore, so I try to stretch it out. There is a spider crawling on the floor and the minimal lighting ups the creep factor of its shadow. If I were still the normal old Imogen I would be freaking out, especially when it starts to crawl towards me. But in the grand scheme of things a spider, even a poisonous one, seems like a walk in the park. I must have zoned out watching the spider. My eyes start to water and burn from being held open. I blink them a few times to get the burning feeling to go away. The knife wounds to my side and knee are now a bearable dull throbbing ache. Unable to fight the overwhelming exhaustion anymore, I let my head roll forward and down onto my chest and let sleep take me into its sweet oblivion.

  A noise rouses me from the brink of deep sleep. I glance around but don’t see anything except the light from the office. My shoulders fall and I exhale the breath I didn’t know I had been holding. I’m about to fall asleep again when I get a sense of something behind me. You know when you have that inexplicable feeling that something is watching you? Or when you sense someone’s touch right before it happens? That’s what I feel. There isn’t longer than a half of a second to ponder what it could be when a large strong hand clamps over my mouth. Another large hand wraps around my hands. Goosebumps break out across my body at the feeling of warm breathing at my ear.

  “I’m going to move my hand so I can undo the handcuffs. Are you going to be a good girl and not scream?” The sound of Rice’s voice in my ear sends a mixture of relief and confusion coursing through me. Tears spring from the corners of my eyes as I nod my head. “Don’t say a word or make noise.” Even though there is no way my mind could form words right now I figure I need to reassure him so I nod. He removes the hand from my mouth and I feel him working at the cuffs on my wrists. The handcuffs fall away without noise and then I feel the ropes at my ankles follow suit. I turn and see his outstretched hand. I’m still confused as to how and why Rice is even here. My mind starts to reason that this has to be a dream. Since that seems like a logical explanation I put my confusion and doubt to the side. If I can’t escape in real life then I’m definitely escaping in my dream. My subconscious handed me a white knight straight out of my fantasies.

 
I grab his hand and tip toe behind him towards the back corner of the warehouse where I had seen a door. My whole body is stiff and I’m slow from exhaustion. This is my dream, and my subconscious doesn’t even have the gall to let me not feel anything. What kind of crap is this? We’re almost to the door when the office door slams against a wall. I feel Rice yank me in front of him and shove me towards the door. A gunshot rings out and the ringing in my ears and the feeling of his hands pushing me jolt me to reality. This isn’t a dream and Rice is actually here and he is rescuing me. There isn’t a yell or outcry after the gunshot so I’m assuming no one was hit. Rice fires a gun that he seemingly conjured out of thin air and if I was still under the impression that this was indeed a dream he probably would have. Michael cries out and I know he’s been hit. I can’t help the little ball of anxiety that forms in my stomach at the thought of my friend getting hurt. It’s still hard to remember that he isn’t my friend and I shouldn’t care what happens to him. Another gunshot sounds as we break through the door. Rice yells, “Keep running. Run straight and right for that dark line, those are trees. I’m right behind you! Whatever you do, don’t look back.”