by Vera Hollins
I gave him the key and got out of the car, shivering when a gust of cold wind swept over me and blew my hair into my face.
“Both of you, move,” Lawrence ordered when Blake refused to step away from the car. He was more composed now, all traces of fear gone from his face and replaced with a quiet fury.
“I’ll make you regret this,” Blake warned.
Isaac rolled his eyes. “Spare me the dramatics and fucking move already.”
Their guns on our backs were a constant reminder not to do anything rash as we headed toward the house. I looked at the sky. The sun was high above the horizon, making it a beautiful day, and my chest hurt. It felt like I was going into a prison I would never come out from, and I was afraid this was my last time to see the light of the day.
“What are you going to do with us?” I asked Lawrence as I stepped inside the dark house that contained a musty smell and old furniture.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
We ended up in a living room that looked almost like my grandparents’ with its floral wallpaper, large framed photos of pastures, upright piano, rocking chair, and ancient worn-out sofa. There wasn’t anything we could use to defend ourselves, except for a lamp on the small stand next to the sofa.
And there, standing next to a curtained window, was Bobby Q, dressed in black and looking as scary as could be. Now, in daylight, I was clearly able to see the pale scar line that started at his chin and ended on his cheekbone.
“Look who we’ve brought,” Isaac told him with a huge smile, motioning at Blake with his head.
“Motherfucker.” Blake spat the word out and took a threatening step toward Bobby Q, but Isaac pressed his gun to the side of his head. I cried out, clamping my hands over my mouth.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Isaac asked him.
Blake curled his hands into fists, his icy gray eyes full of hatred as he glared at Bobby Q.
Bobby Q smirked. “Jackpot. Hello, Jones. It’s nice of you to pop up and make everything easier for us.”
“Cut to the chase. What do you want? Spit it out,” Blake said.
Isaac chuckled. “Whoa, boy, slow down. You sound a bit too on edge.”
“You kidnapped us,” I said. “How do you expect us to react?”
Lawrence whistled behind me. “Roar. This one can bite.”
Bobby Q’s gaze was cold as he assessed me, sending chills down my spine. “I’m going to have so much fun with you later.”
Blake dashed toward him. “Son of a—”
Isaac fired his gun, and I screamed. The bullet landed super close to where Blake had stopped, making a hole in the carpet.
“Next time I won’t miss, so consider this your only warning, Blake,” Isaac said in a low tone, which sounded muffled to me under the increasing pressure in my head. I stared at the hole in the carpet with my heart thrashing against my rib cage. More and more dread crept through me until I couldn’t think properly, until there was only panic.
“Search him for weapons,” Bobby Q ordered.
“Take off your jacket,” Isaac told Blake and waited for him to do it, leaving nothing to chance. He threw the jacket on the sofa and passed his hands over Blake’s body. He smirked when he pulled a pocketknife out of Blake’s back pocket.
“Carrying this to school?” Isaac said, raising the knife in the air for emphasis. “Tsk-tsk. You won’t need that anymore.” He tossed it on the sofa next to Blake’s jacket.
Blake glowered at him. “Go fuck yourself.”
“No more weapons?” Bobby Q asked Isaac.
“Nope.”
“Now the girl.”
“Don’t touch her,” Blake shouted, looking ready to jump at Isaac and rip his throat out, but Isaac didn’t pay attention to him, taking my jacket off and patting me down for weapons without missing a beat.
My skin crawled in disgust at his touch, which was followed by queasiness when his hands brushed over my intimate parts. I felt horribly violated. I dug my nails into my palms so hard I thought I might draw blood.
“You never know with girls these days,” Isaac said before stepping away. I fought to even out my breathing.
“I swear I’m going to fucking kill you the first chance I get,” Blake said, glaring at Isaac with hatred that knew no boundaries, and I believed him. The conviction in his words was unmistakable.
“Not if we kill you first,” Bobby Q stated in a bored tone.
Blake glared at him. “If you wanted to kill me, you could’ve already done it. You didn’t have to waste time on all this shit.”
“You know how we do things around here, Jones,” Bobby Q joked with a half-smile on his face. “It’s not an accomplishment if we don’t kidnap a person…” His gaze found mine. “Or two.”
“But unlike last time, you’re not hiding behind your goons and expecting them to do all the dirty work for you,” Blake said. “You’re showing your face, which can only mean we aren’t getting out of here alive.”
“Who knows?” Bobby Q grinned. “Maybe, maybe not.”
I shuddered. I was scared to even think about that possibility, but it was becoming more plausible with each minute. I knew the exact address of this place. I doubted Isaac would’ve given it to me if they planned to let us live.
But no, I couldn’t think that way. I had to stay positive.
“I just want to know one thing,” Bobby Q said as he spun the massive ring he wore on his right hand. “How did you know what I looked like? I was there only twice, and I wore a mask each time.”
“I saw you come through the window before you took us to that basement. You should’ve put your mask on earlier.”
Bobby Q sneered. “Are you shitting me? No one has that good a memory.”
“They do when you have an ugly-ass scar that’s visible from a mile away.”
Bobby Q was quick, throwing a cross at Blake’s face before anyone could even see him move. Blake staggered, his cheek splitting open where Bobby Q’s ring had hit it. I pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle a cry. The metal of the gun at my back destroyed any possibility that I could do something to help Blake, and I hated being this useless.
“Take them to the basement,” Bobby Q said. Blake flinched. No, not the basement. “Leave them there to reevaluate their life choices for a while.”
“No,” I whispered. Blake grew pale at once, and a sudden burst of anger carved a path through me. He was reliving his trauma all over again because of the same horrible people that had caused it.
“Walk,” Isaac said, yanking him by his upper arm toward the hallway. Blake’s steps were slow, laden. He had no choice but to face what he feared the most, and it wasn’t fair. I wished I could at least touch him or hold him to dispel his demons.
“What are you waiting for? A blessing? Move.” Lawrence nudged me with his gun.
My legs felt heavier than ever as I followed Isaac and Blake out of the living room. We descended the narrow stairs that led to the basement, the surrounding silence in the house falling heavy on my ears. There was no one who could help us. There was no one who could even hear us. We were on our own.
Blake stumbled when we got inside the small, stale room, which was completely empty save for the ropes stacked in the corner. It was lit by a light bulb that was so weak it seemed like it could burn out at any moment, and I wondered if that was the whole point. Maybe they wanted us to be in complete darkness.
Blake’s words about his experience in the basement four years earlier came back to me with a vengeance, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the worst. No food, no water. Dark. Punishment. Emma…Emma had gone through hell before she…
A whimper wanted to tear out of my mouth, but I had to keep it together. I mustn’t lose it.
“This time you won’t be able to untie yourself that easily,” Isaac said as he grabbed one of the ropes. “Maybe that’s better. That way you won’t be responsible for someone’s death.” He winked at him, sharing a vicious laugh with Lawrence. B
astard.
Blake went even paler. I was sure the words had a devastating effect on his mind.
“Did you know?” Isaac asked me, tying Blake up as Lawrence held us both at gunpoint. “We kidnapped Blake and his lil’ girlfriend four years ago. And guess who died then?” He secured Blake’s wrists behind his back before he moved to wrap his ankles together. “His girlfriend! But not before we got to play with her. Men have needs, you know? And what can a man do when he has such a perfect pair of young tits and pussy in front of him?”
My heart felt like it would burst from its rampant pulse. I was nauseated.
“But in the end she died because of the tough boy here. He didn’t listen. He wanted to play the hero, and that poor girl tried to protect him. So sweet.” His fake dulcet voice added more weight to the lead in my stomach. “In the end, she paid the price because of him.” Isaac stared coolly at Blake. “She died because of you.”
He pushed Blake to sit on the floor against the wall. It concerned me how unwell Blake looked as he stared off into the distance.
“No,” I said firmly. “She died because of you.” I pointed an accusing finger at Isaac before Lawrence twisted my arm behind my back to tie my hands. “You’re the one who killed her. It’s your fault and your fault alone.” I yelped because Lawrence tightened the rope around my wrists too hard.
Isaac raised his eyebrows at me. “So you heard the sob story from Blake, eh? I guess it’s a good story to tell if you want to get into a girl’s panties.”
Blake didn’t react, and I doubted he’d even heard Isaac because he was lost in his own world.
I spit in Isaac’s face in a sudden spurt of courage and anger. “You’re sick.”
Lawrence stopped moving, as if waiting to see how this would unravel. Isaac wiped my spit off his face with a grimace and took a slow step toward me.
“Bitch.” He slapped me across the cheek, hard, and I stumbled against Lawrence. My skin burned like thousands of needles had prodded my skin.
Cursing Isaac, Blake scrambled to get to his feet, but Isaac stepped above him and hit his temple with the handle of his gun, which sent him back down.
“Sit the fuck down,” Isaac bit out.
“No, Blake.” My legs moved toward him of their own volition, but Lawrence grabbed my hair and yanked me back, creating a burning pain in my scalp.
“I’m not done,” he hissed into my ear. “So don’t fucking move. You either, tough boy. Make a move, and I’ll pull her hair out.”
With a whimper, I looked back at Blake as Lawrence tied my ankles together, my eyes prickling with tears. We didn’t look away from each other until Lawrence finished and pushed me to sit down next to him. I lost my balance and slid against the wall, landing on the ground with a thud.
Lawrence and Isaac laughed at my expense, getting sick pleasure out of all this. I tested the ropes around my wrists. They were too tight. There was no way I could ever get them loose.
“See ya in a while,” Lawrence told us with a wink, and they left the basement.
A thick silence dropped on us. Blake’s ragged breathing and the loud thumping of my heart were the only things that filled it. My skin stung from the tight ropes, and my cheek pulsated dully in waves. I listened for any sounds from up above, but there were none.
The shock was slowly wearing off, and I started realizing the full gravity of the situation. We could be trapped for days. They could torture us however they wanted and we would most likely end up dead. How much time would pass before they were back?
My stomach churned as my breathing grew uneven, and I willed myself to calm down.
“Are you okay?” he asked me. “Does your cheek hurt?”
I looked at him and winced at the blood that trickled from the side of his head down his face. His cheek was already bruised, the cut on it bloody. “A little, but I’m okay. You?”
He wore a grimace as he studied my cheek, and I assumed a bruise was forming there. “Trying to be.” He cursed. “Those sons of bitches.” He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”
“Yes, I do. It’s my fault.”
“No, Blake, it’s not your fault. Don’t do this to yourself. It’s not your fault they’re deranged.”
“But you would never have gotten into this situation if it weren’t for me.”
“Hey.” I shimmied closer to him, until our bodies were almost touching. I bumped his shoulder with mine, managing a small smile. “You know guilt doesn’t look attractive on you,” I teased him, hoping to distract him enough to slow his erratic breathing. The tormented look on his face had been constant ever since we stepped in here. “Or fear. Where is that big, scary Blake?”
He didn’t answer; his eyes were firmly closed as he took deep breaths.
“Just give me some time,” he said after a while. “Talk about something.”
“About what?”
“Anything will do.”
“Okay, so…” I looked over the depressing gray bricks surrounding us in search of anything to talk about. “I love to sing in front of a mirror and pretend I’m in my own music video.”
I formed a smile, even though I didn’t feel like smiling. If this had been any other day, I would have been embarrassed, but now, I needed a distraction myself, a piece of normalcy in this completely abnormal situation.
“I take my deodorant and pretend it’s a mic, and I sing my heart out. I’ve lost my voice too many times because I’ve pretended I’m Adele, hitting all those ridiculously high notes. Once, my youngest cousin, who was nine at the time, caught me doing it, and he couldn’t stop laughing about it. He said I sounded like a chicken on helium. He even told my other cousins, and they goofed on me for weeks.”
I wasn’t aware of when my tears had started. I missed my cousins. I missed my family.
“I’ve been singing ever since I was little. My mom said I used to sing other children to sleep in kindergarten. You could say they were my first audience.” I let out an empty chuckle and blinked quickly to clear the tears from my vision. “And speaking of firsts, my first kiss was so stupid—if you can even count it as a kiss. I was four, and a boy in my preschool class decided it would be nice to put his lips on mine in front of everyone. He said he saw his parents do it and wanted to see what it was all about.” I giggled, shaking my head.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything then, but I wrote on his face with a Sharpie while he was sleeping the next day. By the time he woke up, his whole face was covered in purple hearts and flowers.”
He smiled for the first time, still resting his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Good girl.” He wasn’t breathing as hard as before. “I never told you how I felt when I heard you sing at Hayden’s place,” he continued. “You had that look on your face I’d never seen before. You were so into it, and it was like I was seeing a completely different person. You had me dumbstruck right then and there. You’re an amazing singer.”
A flicker of warmth spread through the solid cold in my chest. “Thank you. I’ve always been so insecure about my voice, so…yeah. Thanks.”
He looked at me. “You have nothing to be insecure about. You’re smart, talented…beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Jessie.”
His words and the soft look in his eyes soothed me, making me feel like we were just two people hanging out with each other. There were no ropes that bit into our skin and limited our freedom, no walls confining us to uncertainty and fear. All this fear…we weren’t getting out of there alive, were we? All these memories…they were just blips on our horizon that would soon be filled with darkness.
He moved closer to me so that our lips were only inches away from each other. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
I leaned in and pressed my lips against his, feeling like crying and losing myself in him all at once. I was afraid. I was afraid this could be our last kiss, somet
hing deep within me telling me something terrible was going to happen, even though my mind still refused to accept that possibility. I tugged at my ropes reflexively. I wished I could hug him and hold him close, but I couldn’t, and it was too painful.
He pulled away, his eyes the softest shade of gray. My chest tightened at the blood on his face, and I wanted to do anything to make it go away—to help him heal. To stay with him and let us both heal. Together.
“Thank you for distracting me,” he said. “Now…”
He blinked, and the softness in his gaze was gone, replaced by calculation. He twisted and turned his body so that he was on his knees, looking like old Blake—in control and strong.
“Kneel with your back turned to me,” he instructed me.
I angled my head to the side. “Why?”
“So you can try to reach for my belt.” I looked at his black leather belt with a frown. “The buckle is actually the handle of a knife. You need to grab the buckle and pull it to the right to take the knife out. I’m going to cut our ties off.”
My eyebrows rose high. Wow. “I never would’ve thought you’d have something like this up your sleeve. How did you come up with that?”
His eyes were dark and cold. “I learned my lesson the hard way. This is the best way to hide a knife.”
“I see. Wait a sec.” I wriggled so I could get to my knees and kneeled in front of him, positioning my hands right over his groin. “Admit it—you did this just so you could have me close to your crotch.” I grasped the buckle.
“That was exactly my plan all along.” I yanked the handle and pulled the knife out. “Good. Hold it that way. I’ll just turn around and take it from you.”
He moved around, and I looked over my shoulder as he looked over his. He reached for the knife, and I made sure he didn’t touch the blade as I handed it to him.
“I’m going to cut your ropes first. Stay still.”
He started working, the serrated blade coming dangerously close to my skin, but I trusted him not to hurt me. We didn’t speak until he managed to cut through the rope, which loosened it enough for me to free my hands.