Games of Fire

by Airicka Phoenix

  “Why won’t you learn?” he hissed. “I know you’re stubborn, but it won’t get you anything. Do you like being punished? I don’t like hurting you, but you’re not giving me any choice.” He sighed. His face softened. His knees popped as he knelt down beside her. “Let me see.” He reached for her face, ignoring her cringing. His fingers were remarkably tender pinching her chin, turning her face towards him. There was blood speckles on the back of his hand, she noted, tearing into her cheek to keep from bursting into tears. “Come on.”

  He lifted her into his arms, unaware or paying no attention to her rigid frame as he carried her back to her room. He kicked the door closed with the heel of his boots and took her to the bed. The springs squeaked as she was lowered against the pillows.

  “I’ll get a rag and we’ll clean you up,” he said, already turning to leave.

  He left the door open. Sophie heard his footfalls moving into the makeshift shower room, but the door was open. Just open. She didn’t hesitate.

  She lunged off the bed and ran, still clutching the towel securely. Her heart drummed in her chest, a wild rabbit escaping the hunter. She raced straight past the room with the shower and kept running, making it all the way to the opening at the far end of the corridor before thick arms swept around her middle.

  Sophie screamed. She screamed and flailed, kicking and punching at the air as she was easily lifted. She grabbed at the concrete doorway with both hands, twisting her body. Her efforts paid off when she slipped from his grasp, landing awkwardly on her knees. The pain was fleeting, overpowered by adrenaline as she shot to her feet.

  “Where are you going to go naked?”

  It took a second to decide: stay and accept the towel he held out to her or run.

  She turned into the wall of semi darkness beyond the opening and ran towards the splinter of light pouring over wooden steps.

  “Wrong decision!”

  For the second time in minutes, she was hoisted into his arms and tossed over his shoulder. Her screams seemed to echo from everywhere as she was carted back to her cell. No amount of kicking or punching fazed him. He stepped into her room, kicked the door closed and dumped her on the bed. Sophie did the first thing that came to mind. She twisted her body and kicked out with her legs, not expecting to make contact, but feeling a jolting thrill when her feet slammed square in his gut. His oomph of pain was satisfying for only a split second before his fist collided with the side of her face and the world closed to black.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  There was no disorientation when her eyes fluttered open. She knew exactly where she was and what had happened. What gave her a moment of confusion was the slow flicker of candlelight puncturing the darkness, keeping at bay the shadows. It sat on a stool, bathing the bed with its yellow glow.

  She was on her back, dressed in a fresh nightgown and tucked lovingly beneath the sheets. It was all so normal—as normal as the situation was—except she couldn’t lower her arms.

  “You left me no choice, Sophie.” His voice moved in from beyond the ring of light.

  She jerked on her arms, twisting her neck, ignoring the throbbing in her skull to examine the strips of fabric binding her wrists to the headboard.

  “Why did you do it?” He moved into the light, perching on the mattress by her hip. “Why did you try to run?”

  It was difficult to tell when the candle was behind him, illuminating the curls on his head, but otherwise obscuring his features, but his tone was genuinely hurt.

  Sophie wasn’t sure if she was dumbfounded or pissed when she spoke. “You tortured me for two months and then kidnapped me, took me away from my family and friends and locked me up in this … prison! You tied me to a bed, beat me, belittled and humiliated me and you’re asking why I ran?”

  His head dropped forward, something a normal person would do when they were repenting their mistakes. “Everything I did was for your own good! You don’t understand that right now, but you will.”

  She jerked away when he tried to touch her face. “You’re just like your father! You’re evil!”

  Every drop of air in the room seemed to vanish into some mysterious void. Even the candle seemed to freeze in mid sway as if the unexpected tension had somehow solidified around it.

  “You can’t possibly know that for a fact,” he murmured so quietly, she nearly didn’t hear him. “You have no idea what my father was like. You have no idea the things he would do to me and … her. He didn’t care about anyone. He didn’t care if we lived or died. But I’m trying to protect you! I’m trying to keep you safe. I don’t understand why you can’t see that.”

  “Because this is wrong!” she cried. “You can’t do this to people. You murdered young girls.”

  “They weren’t important. You are!”

  She shook her head. “They were important to somebody.”

  He shrugged. “That isn’t my problem. If someone cared, they should have been looking out for them. You had me. I was always there to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

  “Like at the party when you went and made friends with Brent?” she mocked bitterly. “Tell me, did you give them directions to my house or did you drive them there yourself?”

  “They were a means to a much bigger outcome,” he answered simply. “They were only supposed to scare you a little, show you how vulnerable you were and how much you needed me. They took it too far.”

  “So you ratted them out to the police.”

  His shoulder jerked. “I had to. You went underground. I couldn’t find you. I knew that once the threat was secured, you’d come back to me. All it took was some planted evidence and a call to the police. You returned the next day.”

  “I didn’t come back to you! I came back to my friends, something I once considered you a part of.” She soaked back the malice from her voice, not wanting to unleash his anger again, but wanting answers. “Why did you take Aimee?”

  “I told you, she hurt you and I needed one final tester to secure this place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He gestured vaguely around with a hand. “Just the small things like if there was anything in the room that I needed to add or take away. If there was anything lying around that was harmful to you or me. If it would be easy to break out. Things like that. Each person thinks differently and it was interesting to see how they coped under the situation.”

  It churned her stomach how lightly he spoke of murdering people. His tone was light as though they were discussing the morning crossword section. What level of madness did that to a person, because clearly he hadn’t been sane for a very long time, which made her wonder why she hadn’t noticed it before.

  “But I have to confess,” he continued with a small hint of a smile in his voice. “Aimee was my favorite. It took her the longest to break, well, aside from you. She had such a mouth on her. I was almost sad when her time was up. I think I would have enjoyed breaking her completely.”

  “Oh God!” No amount of inhaling through her nostrils helped appease the sickness roiling in her chest. “You’re sick! You need help!”

  He sighed. “That’s what they all said. In the end, look where it got them.”

  “Where is Aimee?”

  “Why do you care? She was horrible to you.”

  “Where is she?”

  He waved absentmindedly towards the door. “Gone. No one will ever find her.”

  “What do you want with me? Are you going to kill me, too?”

  She couldn’t see it, but she was sure his eyes had widened in shock. “No! Of course not! Sophie.” She tried not to react when he framed her face in his hands. “I would never hurt you! I love you.”

  “Then why am I locked down here, tied to a bed?” she cried. “You don’t do this to someone you love!”

  He moved back. “Don’t you think I know that? I tried to get you to see me, to love me, for years! But you went after every … asshole out there without ever once looking at me. There was Brian Fisher, which
never worried me. I knew he’d never want you back. I figured I would give you a little more time and maybe try again, but then Rowth walked into the picture and … he was different! Even when you claimed to hate him, I saw how you watched him and how he watched you. I hated the way he undressed you with his eyes. I wanted to stab him right there and then!” The venom in his words was like razorblades nicking gashes all over her body. “That week we spent together in the computer room was the best few days of my life! I thought you were finally giving me a chance and then you betrayed me!”

  “I never wanted to hurt you, Joe,” she murmured honestly. “You know I would never do that. I just never saw you—”

  “But you see me now, don’t you? And soon, you’ll see just how much you love me. I’ll be patient. I waited all these years, a little more time won’t hurt.”

  He left then, taking the candle with him, but leaving her fastened to the bed.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The shelf bracket wobbled, not fully ejected from the wall, but the cement around it had begun to give way, falling in gray dust to the floor, which she quickly spread around whenever Joe visited her. But during the mornings when he was off to school—keeping up appearances—she pushed and pulled against the bar, putting all her weight into it, disjoining it from its concrete confines. Sweat coated her skin, gelling into place along her spine and brow. Her breathing puffed with every effort. It was so close.

  With a final shove, the bar snapped off the wall. The screws cluttered to the floor, rolling beneath the bed. Sophie stared at the weapon in her bleeding hands and gave a small laugh. She got it!

  Quickly, she balanced the shelf and bears on the remaining two brackets and took hers to the bed where she tucked it beneath her pillow. She hurried back to the shelf and used her foot to spread the small pile of concrete dust, nudging most of it beneath the bed and bookshelf. She wiped her hands on the underside of the blanket.

  Then, she sat and waited and thought about home. She thought about her mother curled up on the sofa with her novels. She thought about her father and his horrible jokes. She thought of Lauren with her sharp wit and Jessie with her beautiful heart. She thought of Mark and Janice and Jackie. She thought of Suzy and Jamie and Aimee. She thought of Brian and Roy. She thought of everyone but Spencer. She couldn’t let herself think of him. She couldn’t let herself picture him when it killed her not to know what she was escaping back to. What if he was dead? What if he was gone? What if he was alive and had moved on? What if he’d forgotten about her?

  Hysteria pulsed at her temples. She closed her eyes and focused again on her mother’s face, her father’s. She went back through the motions, willing herself to believe she could do it, tattooing the determination to her chest, a badge of insistence. She would be free. She would return to her family. She would see her parents again and she would apologize, because everything they’d gone through, every second of pain and terror, it was her fault. She brought this nightmare down on their heads. She’d been nothing but selfish and shallow every minute of her life and it took this moment for her to realize it. It took her getting locked up and tortured to see that her life had been perfect. She had a mother who understood her, a father who would do anything to protect her and friends who were there at the press of a button. But she had never seen it. It had all been cast aside, taken for granted.

  Never again! She vowed. She would escape. She would go home and she would make everything better.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “You’re quiet.”

  Sophie moved her pile of scrambled eggs from one side of the plate to the other with her fork.

  “Are the eggs too salty?”

  She gave a slight shake of her head.

  Joe’s hand came up and lightly pressed into her brow. “Are you coming down with something?”

  You!

  “I’m fine.”

  “Hey.” He rubbed her thigh lightly, making her draw her leg away. “Are you still upset with me about the shower incident? I think we can agree we both made mistakes.”

  She fought hard not to shove the red welts around her wrist into his face from being tied to the bed all night. “You’re going to be late for school,” she muttered instead.

  He sighed. “Well, eat up and I’ll clean up your dishes.”

  She pushed the plate towards him. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Sophie …” He stopped himself from whatever he was about to say, shook his head. “I’ll bring down a snack for when you get hungry later and some lunch, okay?”

  She said nothing as he gathered up the dishes and rose with the tray in hand. He left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  This was it. This was her chance. She needed to act now or she may never get another. Her heart went wild in her chest as she fished beneath the pillow for her weapon. Sweat slicked her fingers as she gripped it tightly with the flat, dangerous end up and moved to stand up against the wall behind the door. Her stomach shuddered, threatening to liquefy as every second passed with agonizingly slow speed. Hot and cold shivers shot down her spine. She held her breath, counting the seconds, debating her decision, wondering if she had the strength to hit, possibly kill someone. Could she take a life even to save her own? Could she kill Joe?

  Everything in her, the rage and anger, screamed yes! That she was strong and she wouldn’t go down without a fight, but her hands shook. Tears burned behind her eyes, blinding her. She blinked them back, scolding herself for not focusing. It was either her or him and she wasn’t going to put up with being weak.

  When the keys jingled on the other side, Sophie nearly froze. Her heart nearly crashed free of her ribs and she was certain she may have soiled herself a little. But she held her ground, held her breath, held her stance, biding every second until the door groaned open.

  You can do this, Sophie! Think of your parents. Think of Lauren and Jessie. Think of Spencer!

  Yes. She could do this. She could. She was going home!

  Swinging the bracket over her shoulder and pushing pointers of her days in little league to the front of her mind, she waited, counting each breath. When Joe stepped into view, she didn’t hesitate.

  She swung.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Blood sprayed, hot and sticky from where the sharp edge of the bracket cracked into Joe’s forehead. His howl of pain barely registered. The food he carried tumbled forgotten on the floor at their feet. Sophie swung again and again, bringing her weapon down on his head, his back and shoulders, anywhere she could reach with every ounce of strength in her. She struck him until he was flat on his face, surrounded in a pool of his own blood and strewn sandwich pieces.

  Bar still wet in hand, wet with her sweat and his blood, Sophie snatched up the keys that had fallen from his grasp and ran. Her heart pounded the soundtrack of her escape as she plowed down the corridor to the end. Her feet never hesitated, plunging into the dark towards the stairway across the room. They slipped on the wood and she was half running, half crawling to the open door at the top. Below, she heard a groan and she sobbed, throwing herself through the door. Not pausing, not even to glance back, she slammed it closed behind her and flipped the little switch, locking it behind her. Trembling from head to toe, she shoved a bookcase in front of the door, then an armchair and turned to the room.

  Everything from the soft, green paint on the walls to the worn furniture punched her in the gut as memories of sitting in that room with Joe and doing her homework flooded her mind. She swung her gaze wildly around, horrified to realize that all that time, all those hours and months in captivity and she was in his basement. The basement of his house! The house she’d been in a hundred times.

  Repelling the urge to vomit, she hurried into the kitchen just off the living room and nearly screamed when she saw the figure standing by the sink, looking out the window. The woman Sophie recognized as Heather Blake never glanced up, never moved. She stared at some world only she could see. She didn’t try to stop Sophie when she
ran for the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” a female operator asked.

  “My name is Sophia Valdez,” Sophie said hurriedly, fighting back sobs. “I was kidnapped by Joe … Joseph Blake three, maybe four months ago. I’m at 5264 Brooklyn Road. Please … help me!”

  “Okay, where is he now?” No sooner had the question been posed when a loud bang split the air.

  Sophie screamed out of reflex. “Hurry! He’s coming! He’s—”

  Another thud and she realized he was slamming his body into the door.

  “Miss, stay on the line! Stay with me! Officers are—”

  “Sophie!” Joe’s voice sounded hollow from the other side of the door. “Sophie, please. I’m hurt. Help me!”

  “He’s coming!” she panted into the phone, head rushing with fear and adrenaline.

  “Who are you talking to?” he sounded angry now. “Who did you call? Answer me, Sophie!”

  “Miss? Talk to me! What’s happening?”

  The phone had already stuck the linoleum as Sophie replaced the receiver with the knife from the block on the counter. Her hand shook as she backed out of the kitchen towards the front door. No way was she going to wait for him to break through that door. The police would never make it in time. Her back struck the corner of the table and something shattered behind her, slicing her heel. Sophie swore, spinning around to glower at the empty fruit bowl now in jagged shards all over the filthy floor.