by Nicole Fox
“Yes,” he continued. “So, when Jasy-Baby found out the only way I’d let you go was his death, he ran. And now, I couldn’t let him get away, now could I? So I shot him. Right in the gut. It took him at least an hour to die. Hehehe.”
I gasped up at him in horror, laughing at the pain at the man I loved. Still, a small bastion of hope–of denial–remained. “Why should I believe you?” I managed, my voice choked with tears.
He shrugged. “You got the jacket. By this point, I don’t care if you believe me. My goal has always been to make Dominic suffer. And now that he’s dead, the only person I can turn to… is you!”
He reached out and hit me, right in the face, with his broken hand. It was not a solid punch like it would have been if he had struck me with his good hand. In fact, it felt more like I was swatted hard on the cheek by an old, moist twig broom. And yet, the scratchy, sticky, mutilated feel of it drew more horror from me than any bruise his regular hand could have raised.
“Ah!” I cried out, falling back onto the cot as his words echoed in my ears. He’s dead! He’s dead! He’s dead! All my courage, all my bravery felt snuffed out, extinguished like a candle at the end of Dominic’s life.
But then, I heard someone behind us stir.
It was Thunder, staggering to his feet.
“I think you’re a liar,” he growled, standing proud and tall. He could not hope to threaten The Hook in the state he was in, but even to be standing there like that, like all the pain was nothing, helped still the screaming in my heart. “But if you’re not, you should let us go. If it’s true what you say, and Dominic is truly dead, then he paid the price. Free us!”
The Hook smiled. I expected him to lash out, or even attack Thunder, but all he did was stand there, grinning like a cat at a pair of cornered mice. “I might,” he said at last. “Or I might not. It all depends on this one’s cooperation.”
He reached down and pinched my breast with that clawed hand. I winced and recoiled. I could not help it. It was purely visceral at that point, like the way one jumps back from a burning stove.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he sneered and then left the room chuckling.
I held Dominic’s jacket to me, trying not to cry.
“Do you think it’s true, Thunder?” I whimpered. “Tell me–do you think it’s true?”
“Of course not,” he replied gently, sitting down beside me and wrapping an arm around me. “You and I both know Dominic. He would never run away.”
“But is he dead? The coat, Thunder! The coat!”
I brandished it in his face, turning my sobs into violent gestures. He took my hands and gently extricated it from my grasp.
“All that proves,” he murmured, “Is that they have his jacket. That’s it. That’s all it proves.”
I knew he was right, and yet the fear that Dominic might be dead still pounded within me. It made me feel weak.
“I’m nothing without him,” I whimpered, finally dissolving into tears.
“Shhh, no. Shhh,” Thunder whispered. He took me against him, cradling my head against his chest. “You’re the most kick-ass woman I’ve ever met, Erica,” he said. “And you’ve always been that way, even if you didn’t know it before you met him. And you’ll still be that way, even if…”
He trailed off, unable to finish. And yet, I took comfort from his words.
“Thank you, Thunder,” I sighed.
“I bet,” he continued, “That Dominic is alive and well, and that he’s looking for us right now. Nothing will stop him, Erica. Not even a bullet will.”
I nodded shakily, and pressed myself further against him. He was a friend of Dominic’s. At that moment, embracing him was like embracing Dominic.
He was also, on his own, a friend.
“Thank you,” I repeated, then reached up to kiss him on the cheek. We held together like that for a moment, like two terrified little children, waiting for someone big and strong to come and rescue them.
Waiting for Dominic.
As we embraced, my hands went to explore Dominic’s jacket. It was familiar and smelled like him. My fingers found as much comfort in it as my closeness to Thunder. During my exploration of it, I felt something strange: a hard, firm outline buried in its breast.
“Hey, Thunder,” I whispered. “Look at this!”
There, sewn into the lining of the jacket, was a small, folding knife. With some effort, I managed to tear it free.
“Thunder, this is excellent! This could really help us now!”
He nodded excitedly, then helped me hide it inside my bra, making sure that it could not be seen. When he was finished, his hands fell from my shoulders to around my waist, and he held me once again.
For the first time, we were starting to feel hopeful.
Thump!
I heard something bump against the door. In an instant, I was on my feet, drying my tears. I did not want my captors to see me afraid. Thunder also stood up, and stood beside me.
But, oddly, no one came through.
Thunder limped over to the door, where there was a small, barred window.
“I don’t know,” he said, a moment later. “There seems to be something going on outside, but I can’t tell what. The angle’s no good.”
I was not tall enough to even look through the window, so I had to take his word for it.
“Something, huh?” I pondered. “Well, that could be good. Anything that annoys the Crooked Jaws is good in my book.”
Thunder offered a weak smile in return.
Then, the door shuttered. Someone had inserted a key into the lock, and was coming inside. I composed my face into a neutral expression. Whoever was coming in was not going to be able to get anything from me.
It was Blade, who shuffled in looking grayer and slimier than ever. He bore a strange expression that matched his shifting gait: changeable, unsure. Almost manic. Half the time, he was grinning, and the other half he had a terrible grimace on his face–the look of a fox chewing its own leg to escape a trap.
Before he even opened his mouth, I knew what he was going to say.
“Your time has come, Erica my sweet,” he simpered, his voice like honey dribbling down a wall. I blanched, and gazed at him in horror.
“W-what do you mean?” I asked shakily. It was important to seem afraid to Blade. I wanted to seem weak so that he would think he needed to fight over me. To steal me as a prize from The Hook.
“Lovely situation, huh Erica?” I thought. “Bait Blade to avoid The Hook. Either way, you’re getting pawed.”
Disgust at the thought rose up so violently in me at that moment that I had to fight to avoid being sick. Blade seemed to sense this within me, for he sauntered over and slipped a hand around my waist.
“Don’t worry,” he hissed to me. “I will make sure La Gancho doesn’t hurt you too bad. After all, you need to save some for me.”
I froze, biting my tongue with the effort it took to gaze at him slavishly, with relief.
“I want him dead,” I murmured. “I’ll do anything for you, Raymond. But I want him dead.”
Blade grinned. He liked my use of his first name. I noted that for possible use later.
“All in good time,” he whispered, flicking the side of my breast. I prayed that he would not notice the knife stashed there. Thunder and I had hidden it in the side of my bra, where I thought the lecherous scoundrels wouldn’t be interested. Blade, however, appeared not to notice, and took his hand away, satisfied.
“Now,” he chuckled. “Let’s go see Dominic.”
“Dominic!” I cried, forgetting my role as uselessly fearful. “He’s alive?”
Blade tittered. “Barely,” he said. “If La Gancho doesn’t kill him outright, he’ll bleed to death soon as it is. Trust me, I’ve seen the wounds.”
“Bleed to death?” I gasped inwardly. Outwardly, I began to sob, and sagged against Blade. “Oh, he’s killed him! He’s killed him!” I wailed. “You’ll kill him for me, right? Please! I’ll do
anything!”
Blade smiled and stroked my hair, but did not respond. I stole a moment to glance back at Thunder, who was limping along behind us. Our eyes were asking the same identical question: “If Dominic is still alive, and is being held captive, why did The Hook lie to us? What purpose could he have?”
The questions disturbed me. I realized that perhaps I wasn’t the only one playing mind games here.
But–Dominic! I’d deal with all the lecherous men in the world if I could at least see Dominic!
Another thought occurred to me then, on the way to where they were holding him. I had the knife. Thunder and I were both untied. Despite our injuries, we could fight Blade now, and win. I glanced back at Thunder, the question in my eyes.
He shook his head, and he mouthed to me, “Wait until we find Dominic.”
I nodded, the returned my attention to leaning against Blade as we walked. It was disgusting, but I wanted him to be touching me. I wanted him to long for it, more than ever.
At last, we came to a heavy iron door. Unlike the lock to ours, which was thick and complex, this lock seemed simple. Oddly, this made me shudder. Whoever went into this room, the Crooked Jaws were not afraid of getting out.
Standing by the door, armed with a gun and a truncheon, was a Crooked Jaw. He leered at me as we approached, winking and grinning wickedly. Rage at the sight of his greed and his unworthiness consumed me–rage I would have been channeling at Blade, had my plan permitted it–and I spat right in his face.
His stupid grin remained plastered there, covered in spittle, for three solid seconds before being replaced by a grimace of rage. He raised his truncheon, about to strike, but was stopped by Blade’s chuckle and a shaking of the head.
“You’re right, sir,” the grunt growled. “She’s La Gancho’s.” And he lowered his weapon, stepping aside.
Ha! I thought. Perfect! Blade’s hands shook as he fumbled with a key for the lock, and he did not reply. After several clumsy attempts, he at last got the door open, and we entered.
What I saw made me cry out in horror.
“Dominic! No!”
There he was, stark naked, save for the coating of blood that covered him. He was suspended by his wrists by two hooks hung from the ceiling, feet apart, like some terrible mockery of a crucifix. Terrible wounds coated his front, back, and hips, splits like a tomato squeezed to popping in a fist, surrounded by bruises like moldy plums.
The Hook stood before him, grinning his foul grin, a whip in his hand and its end was stained red. He looked at me, and winked.
And yet this–all this–was not even the worst part. The worst of it was that Dominic, after so much terror and fear, was refusing to look at me.
It was not as if he was unconscious, or too weak to raise his head. No, his chin was lifted, his neck strong. But he was looking deliberately away, at the far wall, refusing to see or acknowledge me.
“Dominic! Oh, Dominic!” I cried. “What’s the matter?”
It was a stupid question, I know. What was the matter? Everything! Everything! And yet, I could not help but feel that something was deeply, terribly wrong. I tried to leap forward, but Blade’s hand fastened on my arms, and held me fast.
Thunder, bent and broken by his injuries, stepped forward. “Dominic,” he gasped. “What have they done to you? Those fucking bastards!”
He, too, approached Dominic, and neither Blade nor the Hook tried to stop him. He rushed to his friend, hugging him around his bleeding, mutilated waist and lifting him up and off the hooks.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Thunder whispered over and over. He placed Dominic down on his feet.
I expected Dominic to sag, on the support of his friend. I expected him to collapse even, or to grunt in pain but he managed to stay on his feet. What he did, however, was the last thing I expected:
He began to attack Thunder.
“I saw you!” Dominic growled, his voice weak and cracked and hoarse as a rusting spigot. “Damn you, Thunder! I saw you and Erica!”
As he cursed, he slammed Thunder with clenched fists, on the back, the head, the sides, leaving bloody smears wherever he struck. “I saw you! I saw you!”
I stood, gaping in horror. Blade was chuckling to himself, and the Hook, meanwhile, stepped forward.
“That’s right, Dominic, that’s right!” He crooned. “She fucked him! I saw it! You saw it! How long after I told her you were captured until she spread her legs for another, huh? Until she spreads her legs for me!”
And, at his words, everything clicked. I remembered the thump at the door, with Thunder’s arms around me.
“Dominic, no!” I cried. “It’s a trick! Thunder was comforting me! We thought you were dead! We thought you were dead!”
Dominic did not cease his pounding, which Thunder took, without fighting back. Instead, I shook myself free and rushed over to the pair of them.
“Dominic, Dominic!” I sobbed. “Don’t you see? He tricked you! He lied to me so that you’d see Thunder and I hugging! Please, it was for you! It was all for you!”
“Why?” He demanded, enraged, demented. “Why? Why? Why?”
“Because I love you!”
He froze. Thunder fell away, pushing himself out of reach. Instead, Dominic lowered his fists, and sagged against me.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’d thought…”
“I know,” I murmured back. “It’s okay. But listen to me. I promise–promise–never to leave you. I’ll never cheat on you. I’ll be with you forever, okay?”
He gazed at me, tears drying in his eyes. “You…love me?” He gasped. He sounded like a child. So hurt. So unsure.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.” And I kissed him. He tasted like blood and desperation and despair, but he also tasted like courage and warmth and rebellion. I loved him. I loved him.
“Aw, isn’t that lovely,” a cold, slithering voice interrupted, snaking between us and pushing us apart like icy fingers. “Promises of fidelity, so soon to be broken.” It was the Hook.
He approached, seizing me by the shoulders and yanking me away from Dominic. Then, he snapped his fingers, and two Crooked Jaws appeared, hoisting Dominic back up and onto the hooks. He resisted, but I could tell by the blood flowing down his body and into the drain that he was at the end of his strength. Within a minute, Dominic was back on his terrible perch.
When they finished, they immediately went over and grabbed Thunder, hurling him against the wall and pinning them there. They apparently did not want anyone interfering with what came next.
The Hook approached me, and, with a single hit, knocked me to the ground. I could have screamed. I could have tried to run. But the door was locked, and I was surrounded by five men–the two guys holding Thunder, the man outside, and Blade and the Hook.
I had no hope to escape.
Then, the thought lit through my mind like a firework. The knife!
I back into a corner, with the Hook approaching, and dug my hand into my bra, searching for it. Thunder and I had been so afraid that it would be found that it was hidden very well. At last, I located it, and whipped it out with a flourish.
The Hook eyed the tiny thing and chuckled.
“Stay back!” I cried, pointing its measly blade right at his throat. “Don’t touch me!”
The Hook shrugged, and stepped back. “Okay,” he said, with an amiability which surprised and disturbed me. That is, until he drew his own knife, and held it against Dominic’s throat.
“Drop it,” he growled, “or I slice him right open.”
I stared at the scene in horror. The Hook, his erection obvious beneath his leather jeans, grinning because he knew he had me cornered. Blade, standing near me, wheezing and awaiting his turn. Thunder, silent, bowled over by two men much stronger than he. And Dominic. He looked up at me, shaking his head frantically.
“No!” He roared. “Erica! Don’t do it! I don’t care if they kill me! Don’t let him touch you–argh!”
He drew b
ack as The Hook pressed the blade against his throat, puncturing the skin and drawing a dribble of blood. If he moved or spoke again, it would slice into his windpipe.
“Okay!” I cried. “Okay, don’t hurt him!”
I dropped the folding knife and kicked it away, holding my hands up in surrender. The Hook grinned, and lowered his blade from Dominic’s throat.
“Very good,” he snarled. “I knew you’d cooperate. Now, my darling, come here.”
He approached, and put his hands on me. I did not resist, for resisting meant that he would kill Dominic. Ignoring the pain and the humiliation of him grabbing me, knocking me to the floor, I gazed instead at the man I loved, tormented and covered in blood but meeting my eyes bravely just the same.