Imprisoned

by J D Jacobs

  No reaction or comment is expressed by the Avvil citizens. Their faces don’t even appear bothered.

  I look to the city elevator as I’m dragged away. One of Ricardo’s men is lying on the ground, his hand rubbing his temple. In the elevator tube, I see five white suits shooting up toward the surface, almost there. I see the smallest suited figure wave at me, his shoulders clutched by the surprisingly tall figure behind him. I nod at them, watching my only allies in this city safely escape.

  30.

  Not all of my allies, though.

  I still have one.

  “Get in there,” one of the guards pushes me in the back and onto the carpet, welcoming me back to the thirteenth floor of the Grandsmont Hotel. The guard is a muscular woman with buzzed hair and bulging muscles. The one ally I’m speaking of isn’t this NPC, by the way.

  I mumble loudly to the woman as I try to tear the duct tape off. She notices my mumbling and kneels down in front of me. “What’s wrong? Got a mouth full?”

  I try to say “I’m sure your girlfriend did last night” as clearly as I can while also eating duct tape, but I’m not sure she understood me. She flicks out her pocket knife and slices it down my cheeks, cutting the tape where the slice is. I close my eyes and try to absorb the pain as blood rushes out and onto the woman’s fingers as she snatches the cut duct tape off of my mouth.

  “Jesus!” I exclaim as I rub my lips. “This city is full of cowards like you who are too afraid to stand up against Ricardo. You’ll let him push you and whoever else he wants to around, as long as that means an extra day of life. Don’t you have any dignity?”

  “You’re honestly asking me to choose between dignity and life?” she scoffs. “Those who chose dignity died long ago. If listening to Mr. Ricardo means that I live, that’s a trade I’ll happily take.”

  “Live? Nobody in this city is living anymore. These people may be alive, but they’ve been dead inside for a while.”

  “If that’s what you think. I’m not wasting anymore time with you. You’ll be dead very soon.” She turns around and leaves my room.

  My face drips with blood. Nothing new.

  “Jaden!?” I hear Sabrina appallingly call into the wall.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?”

  “Forget about me. Are you okay? Please tell me they didn’t do anything to you!”

  “They didn’t. I’m okay for now. I just have some tape stuck to my head, then I’ll be just like I was a few hours ago.”

  My mild demeanor doesn’t calm her any. “What happened? I tried to stall them as much as I could, but it wasn’t much. I’m so sorry, I–”

  “Don’t blame yourself for anything, Sabrina. You did a great job. We wouldn’t have made it as far without you. Everybody else made it out of Avvil safely: my friend, Jasmine, Jordan. They’re all heading to Tryton as we speak.”

  “Why didn’t you make it out with them?” she asks me, her voice gently mellowing into its natural tenderness.

  I proudly grin as I think back to what happened outside. “I thought it’d be best for me to stay here, so I speared Ricardo and punched him in the face.”

  “You what!?” she blurts at me, wondering if the wall between us somehow altered my words. “Are you crazy!?”

  The fact that I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again answers her question. “I guess so.”

  “Let me get this straight: you could’ve left Avvil, but you decided to stay just so you could punch Miguel?”

  “That’s not what I said. I didn’t leave because you were still here.”

  My words linger through our rooms before either of us speaks. I expect her to be mad at me for giving up my freedom and basically my life just to try and save her. I hear her give a soft laugh as a response. “You stayed for me?”

  “Your words stuck with me, Sabrina. Once I left this room, I wasn’t scared of anything anymore. I’m not afraid of what Ricardo plans to do to me. If he’s going to do something terrible to me in that arena, so be it. But I couldn’t live with myself if I would’ve left this city with you still in it.”

  “Jaden…” she delicately begins. “I told you already. You can’t save both of us; I’m not your responsibility. You should’ve saved yourself while you could. You shouldn’t have stayed.”

  “But I did. And I’d do it again.”

  It takes her a while to respond. “It’s your life, but if that’s your decision… thank you.” Her words are genuine and sweet as honey. “So,” she goes on, “what’s the plan?”

  I didn’t think this far ahead. “As of now, I don’t have a plan yet.” I’m sure that’s exactly what she wanted to hear.

  “Brilliant.”

  “Don’t worry, though. I’ll find a way to get us out of here by tomorrow morning.”

  “Come on, Jaden. Why did you come back for me if you don’t know what you’re going to do? That’s basically a death sentence and you know it.”

  “I don’t care. I feel that we can improvise our way out of this. If you and I stay on the same track, we can make it out.” I pause for a second, crawling closer to the wall between us. “We will figure something out.”

  I hear her give a discouraged sigh as I finish up. “I’m worried that you don’t know what you just put yourself in to. I don’t want you to end up like Rob, and I don’t think you–”

  “I know exactly what I was getting into. Trust me, I’m going to try my best not to end up like your friend. Sabrina, you tell me not to worry about you, but at the same time, don’t stress yourself out worrying about me. I will get you out of this room, and if I get killed and don’t succeed, then my friends in Tryton will come back and save you in my place. But you’re getting out of Avvil some way. Just have faith in me.”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounds a little more hopeful. “If you say so, then I’ll believe in you.”

  “Good. We have to be on the same page. You’re the only person in this city that I have left and I’m sure I’m the same for you.”

  “Not necessarily. Ribbon #11 and I are close friends,” she jokes at me, trying to get our minds off of our unfavorable situation. “So, technically, I have twice as many friends as you do.”

  “Actually, I do have a plan. The first step of my plan is to get you to drop those insults because they’re starting to hurt.”

  She giggles, warming my stomach as I hear her. If my last few moments are spent laughing with her, I’m okay with that.

  I look over to the door, where I see something that I had completely forgotten about: Cody’s butterfly knife that he used to kill his Ribbon-finding escort. The same butterfly knife that I bought for him at the Tevoc Shop. I rush over to it and take it to the bathroom to clean the blood off of it. While I’m doing so, I try peeling off the duct tape on the back of my head. After a few light tugs, I accept the fact that I’ll die with it stuck in my hair.

  “Let me ask you something,” I say as I stick the folded knife in my pocket and walk to the balcony, “are you officially done ghosting me now? Or are you still back on your ‘I’m-going-to-ignore-you-so-you-don’t-get-killed’ BS?”

  She ponders for a second as her feet scuffle to her balcony’s chair. “Since you’re risking your life to save me, I guess I’ll talk to you every now and then if I have to.”

  “Hehe, took you long enough.”

  “So, what, erm…” she pauses for a moment. “What, uhmm… Sorry if this question is too personal or if it comes off as rude, but how’d you get that mark on your face?”

  “‘Mark’ is a nice way to put it,” I tell her. “I got caught in an explosion a few months ago. Crashed a motorcycle into a metal wall. It’s a long, loooong story.”

  “Definitely sounds like it.” She pauses, then giggles. “I liked it. It’s a way to tell people that you’ve been through some rough stuff. People don’t want to screw with the guy that has the facial scar.”

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” I say with a smile. “You… you’re very pretty, Sabrina.
Somehow prettier than I had expected, and that’s saying something because I already had you pictured as this gorgeous girl with the soothing voice.”

  “Thank you,” she tells me. I can feel her smile through her words, and it thrills me. “That’s very sweet of you, even though you’re only being nice to me because I’m now your only friend.”

  I chuckle, then turn sincere as my laugh fades. “I’m going to get you out of here, Sabrina.” I pound my fist against the wall between us with my pinky extended. “I promise you.”

  “You already broke one promise. You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “I don’t.”

  31.

  “I’ve always been a 2000’s rock kind of guy,” I answer her, the stars above us not losing their brightness through the amber sky. “Let’s see: bands like Green Day, Three Days Grace, Shinedown. You’ve heard of them, right?”

  “Yeah, Green Day was very popular when I was in school. Granted, that was forever ago,” she answers, then giggles to herself.

  “What?”

  “I’m just picturing you in middle school wearing a Three Days Grace t-shirt and rebelliously yelling at your dad because he didn’t get you Guitar Hero for your birthday.” Sabrina’s soft laugh grows louder, and I can’t help but smile back.

  “These jokes are starting to hit home a little bit.” Sabrina has gotten a kick out of this question game we’ve been playing for quite some time now. Strangely, Ricardo nor any of his men have interrupted us. I’ve kept the butterfly knife in my hand, just in case. “I actually had a Linkin Park t-shirt, so the fact that you’re not completely wrong is impressive.”

  “I told you, I can read you like a book!”

  “Keep making fun of me, just wait,” I laugh. “Let’s hear what you listened to then? I feel like you used to throw on tons of mascara so you could be like Avril Lavigne.”

  “Oh my God, no. You’re way off. I like the older bands from the 1970s; my two favorites are ABBA and Fleetwood Mac, if that answers your question. But I don’t know, I never really met anybody my age that liked my music, so I’m a little self-conscious about my music taste.”

  “What’s wrong with those two? Nothing to be ashamed of,” I assure her. “The name ABBA sounds familiar… What songs do they sing?”

  “They sing ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Mamma Mia.’ If you haven’t heard of those two, you probably haven’t heard of any of their other songs.”

  “‘Dancing Queen,’ that’s it! I’ve heard that one before! That’s the one that goes… ‘You are the dancing queen, something something, only seventeen!’”

  Sabrina bursts out laughing. “That’s the one!”

  “I’ve heard it a time or two. Let’s see what’s next… ‘Dancing queen… I don’t know the words, but I’m going to siiiinnnngggg!’” I continue singing along with the melody of the song, purposely sounding awful. “How far off are my lyrics?”

  “You’re close enough! Keep it going,” Sabrina tells me, still laughing at my terrible singing.

  “‘Ooh you can dance, you can jive…’” I pause in the middle of the chorus, signaling Sabrina to pick up the vocals from there. “Your turn.”

  She catches on to my pause and gives a soft sigh. “‘Having the time of your life!’” Her voice is effortlessly stunning. “‘Ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen!’” I’m blindsided by her singing voice, which is so breathtakingly beautiful that I don’t know what to say. “That was fun, we make a good duet!” she says, as if her singing wasn’t the most elegant thing to grace my ears. “It’s been so long since I’ve sang.”

  “Please, will you sing every song that ABBA has ever made?” I ask her, still flabbergasted. “You sounded amazing.”

  “Did you really like it?” she asks, genuinely thrilled.

  “Seriously, that was fantastic. I thought I had a good voice, but that was something else.”

  “I’m so happy that you liked it!” she says, glowing through the wall. “All my friends didn’t like my music, so I never sang around them. You’re one of the few people other than my parents that have heard me sing.”

  “I feel honored. You should do it more often,” I tell her. I then refer back to our question game we’ve been playing. “So what’s your favorite song to sing?”

  “Honestly, I love Stevie Nicks, so anything she sings.”

  “Who’s Stevie Nicks?”

  “I’m actually offended that you asked that. She was one of the singers in Fleetwood Mac. I actually… Nevermind.”

  “You what? Come on, tell me!”

  “I actually have a radio with some Fleetwood Mac CDs in my room. I insisted Miguel bring them to me so I would have something to listen to. Miguel quickly got tired of hearing Fleetwood Mac, so he brought me dozens of other CDs to play instead. Haven’t touched any of them.”

  “Would Ricardo be mad at you if you played Fleetwood Mac?” I ask her.

  I hear her walk inside, rummage through a pile of plastic CD cases, and tap a few buttons on what I’m assuming is the radio. I hear the smooth sound of drums kick in as Sabrina speaks up and heads back outside with me. “Who cares if he does?”

  “What’s this song called?” I ask her as the lead singer’s velvety voice comes into the song.

  “This is ‘Dreams.’ My favorite song.” I can tell by the way she said it that Sabrina is soaking in the music as it plays.

  “I like it so far.” We both listen to the song as it flows from her room and eases itself into mine. It’s relieving to listen to music that’s not in a dream. I can hear Sabrina quietly mumble the lyrics with the song. “Let me hear you sing again.”

  “‘Oh, thunder only happens when it’s raining.’” Sabrina’s voice just gets me. She sounds so much like the woman singing in the song. “‘Players only love you when they’re playing.’” I let her sing the rest of the chorus, her voice saturating my ears. I can’t help but smile.

  There’s a knock on Sabrina’s bedroom door, snapping me out of the moment. The door opens, and I hear a voice from inside. “Turn the music down.” The door is closed shortly after.

  “Who was that? Mrs. Margaret?” I ask her.

  I hear Sabrina walk in her room and answer my question from inside as she turns down the volume dial on the radio. “Not her, but it’s dinner. Tomato slices, green beans, and a baked potato. Is the woman not at your door right now?”

  I walk to my door and knock on it. After ten seconds of no answer, I return to the balcony. “Nope. I suppose Ricardo is going to starve me to death.”

  “Are you serious?” Sabrina asks, her mouth full. “You have to be hungry.”

  “It’s strange. I haven’t been hungry in nearly a year. I only eat because I know I need it to live. I’ve gone days without food before and it doesn’t bother me.”

  “I would ask why that is, but I’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re just a weirdo.”

  “That’s fair, I can’t argue with that. But to be totally honest, I don’t see my stay in this room being much longer. They can’t starve me to death if they only gyp me a meal or two.”

  “Don’t say that,” she tells me. “Be positive.”

  “I’m not being pessimistic; I’m just saying that is probably what Ricardo is thinking.” I hear her set her fork on her plate. “You okay?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, I’m just done eating,” she answers.

  “You literally got that food two minutes ago.”

  “I don’t see your point. I was really hungry. I didn’t even touch the baked potato, though. They know I don’t like baked potatoes; they’re just wasting food.”

  I look down to the Arena floor and see a man mopping up Thomas’s blood from earlier. “I dare you to chuck that potato at the guy down there.” I point to the man and she snickers as if she were following my finger.

  “You’re crazy! I can’t even throw it that far! I wouldn’t come close to hitting him.”

  “I didn’t know
they were feeding you chicken tonight, because that sure is what it smells like over there.”

  “Why don’t you throw something at him, then? He’s not hurting anybody. He’s just innocently mopping, minding his own business.”

  “Yeah, mopping up a kid’s blood, let’s not forget. Janitor Guy down there isn’t completely innocent. And I would throw something, but a potato hitting him in the head is a lot funnier than a remote control.”

  She thinks about it for a second, laughing softly through her nose just thinking about it. “I wouldn’t hit him. I’d miss badly.”

  “And? He can probably hear us, so you have to do it now. It’s too late to back down.”

  I hear her chair slide out from under her as she giggles. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!”

  Next thing I know, a potato floats down toward the Arena floor. It lands about ten feet away from the guy, splattering all over the ground and onto his ankles. He looks up to us and throws his hands up in anger. “What’s your problem, punk?”

  “Hey, bud, you missed a spot!” I yell down to him, laughing out of my chair. “Better make sure you get that before Ricardo sees it.”

  “Screw off! I’ll be cleaning your blood off this floor soon!” he yells up at me. I can see his irritating smile in the darkness.

  “Then clean that up for me, please. I refuse to die next to a potato.” I then turn toward the wall, lowering my voice. “Sabrina, that was hilarious! Spot on accuracy, too! You didn’t hit him, but honestly it did more damage than if you were to hit him.”

  She doesn’t reply to me. I call her name again, but this time a different voice answers me.

  “Talking to my Ribbon again?” I hear Ricardo ask me from Sabrina’s seat. He must’ve snuck in while I was laughing. “What did I tell you about talking to my Ribbon?”