Chapter 12

She’s gone.

He’s killed her. He took her from me, to punish me. ‘Cause I’ve been bad. I shouldn’t have smiled or laughed. I shouldn’t have thought that I could out smart him. But I did, so did Trace. Trace still has hope. He thinks they’re getting in trouble and that’s why they’ve kept Sarah up there and that’s why they haven’t been down here to check on us for three days.

Three days since I’ve seen her.

At least I think its three days. The light hasn’t changed, we haven’t had “nighttime” yet. But it’s been hours, many hours and hours and hours. Trace says she’s ok and that she’ll get the phone. But I don’t want a phone, who would I call? I just want my Sarah back, safe, leaning against me all beautiful and soft. She’s mine, not his. He hurts her. I’d never hurt her.

“Why did he have to take her from me?”

Trace comes over and throws down a bottle of water he found in the fridge and a bag of potato chips. Does he really expect me to eat at a time like this? What’s the point? We’re gonna die anyway. “Snap out of it and eat your God damn chips. She’ll be fine. She’ll be down here with a phone in a bit, I promise.”

“How do you know! How are you so sure Trace! You’re the one that forced her to go up there! Made her go risk herself for us! Fuck you Trace! Fuck YOU!”

He just shakes his head. That’s all he does. It’s all he ever does. He doesn’t care about me or about her. He doesn’t talk to me anymore. Why won’t you talk to me? I don’t want to get out anymore. I want to stay here. It’s not painful or unpleasant. I don’t feel hungry. I don’t want to be alone. I want my Sarah back. Why did he take her from me? From me! Three days without her is too many. I want to sit on her bed and watch movies and talk with her. I want to laugh with her. It’s the best feeling to laugh with her.

“If she doesn’t come back…”

I feel drunk. I feel like my might puke. I feel tired, but I can’t sleep.

All I want to do is sleep.

“What Justin? If she doesn’t come back, then what? We’ll be ok. You took care of me the first days here, I’ll take care of you.”

I glare at him. Fuck him. “I don’t need to be taken care of.” I push myself off the ground but it doesn’t do much good. My arm feels like its dead weight and my lungs hurt when I breathe. I wheeze.

“What are you doing? What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

“Shut up!”

It echoes in the room. Weird. Just like my “oh shit.” I laugh. “Oh shit…” I laugh some more. Where’s that key?

“Justin…”

I need to pretend he’s not there. The more I start to think about it, the more sense it makes. I pull myself up on the bed. I like beds. I stare at all the different Jasmine’s on the cover. She’s hot. Very attractive. Sarah would look like her if she had a tan. Maybe. If she had that aqua outfit, and was an Arabian princess. What if she is? That’d be neat.

I reach over to her nightstand and pull out the drawer. I sort through pencils and crayons and slips of paper with drawings on them. The lights above catch a small silver key and I grab it and sigh. “Yes…”

“What are you doing?”

I laugh. Finally, sleep. I roll off the bed and use it as a brace. I pretend not to see Trace standing there staring at me. He can’t know. He’ll try and stop me. I can’t have him stop me. I stumble to the bathroom door and push it further open. If Sarah isn’t going to be here I want to go to sleep. I want to sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep.

And I don’t care if I wake up.

In fact, I don’t think I want to. Cause if I don’t just sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep, I’ll wake up and I’ll be here. Alone. ‘Cause I know they’re gonna kill Trace next. They hate me. They want me to suffer. Maybe they’ll let Trace go. Maybe they’ve let her go already. But they won’t let me go. Ever.

I’ll be stuck. Bologna for life.

I’d rather die.

I’m sweating. I’m sweating really bad. It’s running along my fingers and making it hard for me to get the key in the lock. My vision blurs and I focus on the mirror to try and gain back my sight.

I don’t recognize who is starting back. The person staring back has cuts along his face, one side is puffy and bruised. His lips are chapped, his cheeks are sunken in. A beard has started to grow along the neck and cheeks and mouth. The hair on his head is getting just long enough to want to curl, but unable. And his eyes are dead.

I don’t know who that is and I don’t know what he’s doing looking back at me, but I don’t like it.

I punch him.

It hurts.

But I laugh ‘cause he went away. See ya sucker.

Now I can focus. I get the lock free and feel like I might cry. Little reflecting pieces of glass fall down into the sink as I open the cabinet. There it is. I am crying now. It looks so good. It’ll make it all better. That small orange bottle. It looks back at me and I grab it. I’m almost there. I’m almost home. I don’t waste time. There’s no need to. It’s almost over with. Sarah’s gone. Trace is, too. Why shouldn’t I go? I just want to sleep.

I’m so tired.

I’m so God damn tired.

Something grabs me from behind. I scream, I yell, I kick. They won’t take me away yet. Not yet. I’m not ready. Just let me sleep first. Please.

I fall down. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. Someone’s trying to take them from me. They’re prying my fist open. No. No!

“No!”

I hit my head against concrete. My world flashes black and my vision is blurry.

“Stop it Justin! What the fuck? What are you doing! Are you crazy?” Someone’s on top of me. I can’t see them but I hear them. I blink. I do it again and I see him clearly. Trace is still here. They haven’t taken him. I stare at him as he uses both hands to open my fist. He grabs whatever it is that I’m holding and throws it in the corner with our discarded water bottles. We started to make a bowling type game out of them. But it got old really fast.

“Justin!!!” I feel like someone is shaking me and I push him away. I start to cry and I don’t know why and I can’t stop.

I can’t stop.

I cry so hard I start to shake. I cough. I taste blood. I wipe my face and then my mouth and a small streak of blood smears against my hand. My knuckles are busted and bleeding as well. This is bad. This is really bad.

I curl up into myself on the floor. I look at my wrists. The skin is rubbed raw and is chaffed and peeling from where my handcuffs are. My fingernails are down almost non existent. I started biting them, I guess. There really is no escape, is there? I’m going to die down here.

I’m going to die.

“Justin…” It’s Trace. At least there’s still Trace. “Are you ok?” I feel his hand on my shoulder. It just rests there and then it moves. I feel his arm sneak under and through my own and he hoists me up and leans me against something, against him. I just lay against him like a limp doll. He puts his arms around me. I stare at his hands that are hand cuffed and hanging in front of my chest. We’re going to die here.

“We’re going to be ok. And if not, I’m not going to let you be alone. I’ll be right here. Ok?”

It’s silent. I clear my throat, trying to get out the taste of blood.

“What if they take you?”

“I won’t let them.”

It feels good to lie against Trace and have him hold me. It makes me sleepy. I shut my eyes and it feels so good. I keep them closed. I can feel myself relax.

“Shit…”

My eyes are forced open and I feel Trace push me off him a little. I look around and see it. The light at the door is green. It opens a little bit. My eyes blur and I rub them and blink and open them as I hear soft footsteps running down the steps. I can’t see well and I blink again. Someone’s coming near us.

And then I hear, soft, whispered, rushed and beautiful, “I got it.”

I reach out for her and I feel her kneel beside me and hug me. “Where have you been?”

“Upstairs. Uncle wouldn’t let me come down. He’s sleeping. I told Mr. Tom I left Abu down here. Here…Is this what you wanted?” I look down and see in her hand a small silver cell phone. I can’t touch it. It’s too real. It’s too much.

I don’t believe it. It was all too easy, too simple and too stupid.

She just holds it out. I look at Trace and he looks at me. And then he snatches it, opens it up and starts to cry. I hold her tightly. I don’t care about the damn phone. Trace has it. He knows what to do. He has the address, had Sarah write it down while I was negotiating, put it in his sock. But I don’t care. Sarah’s back. She’s safe.

“Did he hurt you? Are you ok?” I look over her face, her beautiful porcelain face. She smiles at me and I want to kiss her.

She nods, “I’m ok.” Her head rests against my bad shoulder but I don’t care. “It’s scary up there. We’ve had to turn the lights out a lot. And uncle hasn’t been around much. But he’s made me stay in his room and watch movies. It’s ok there. His bed is fun and bouncy. She’s so soft and I want her to stay here with me forever. She makes it all better.

And then I hear it, his voice cracked and harsh. “Elisha…”

I look over and he’s crying, hard. I don’t really know what to think. I don’t know if this is truly happening. I feel like I might be dreaming or making this up in my head. We’re not supposed to make it. We’re not supposed to escape. It’s supposed to be the end for us. We’re supposed to die down here. And we will. I know that we will.

We’re going to die down here.

And Sarah’s here with me, so it must be a dream. With her against me it’s a sweet dream.

I listen as he cries into the phone and tells her he can’t talk long and listen as he tells the address. He repeats it three times. He tells her he loves her. Tells her he’ll see her soon. Why does he tell her that? Why does he lie to her? Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he realize that…

“Here…” He hands me the phone. I stare at it and then at him. What the hell does he want me to do? I have Sarah I don’t care about whoever is on the line. “Fuck man, we don’t have much time. Just tell your momma you love her!”

“Momma?” I look down at Sarah and her eyes are searching mine. They look confused and scared and yet at the same time they seem to be figuring something out. It’s like she knows, like she understands she isn’t supposed to be here in this place, with that man, that sad disgrace of a man. I pull the phone up to my ear and I can hear her crying already. I haven’t even spoken to her and I can hear her crying.

I try to make out the words. I try to say something. But my voice fails me. I open my mouth and nothing is produced. It’s my momma. It’s my momma. I clear my throat. “Justin! Justin, are you ok? Is that you?”

I can’t take it.

I break.

“Momma…” I feel Trace’s hand on my shoulder. I feel Sarah hold me. I can hear my mom tell me that she loves me and that she’s gonna find me and that we’ll be ok. In that moment, in that dungeon, in God knows where Africa, while I cough up the taste of blood and lose feeling in my left arm, as I sit there crying harder than I ever have in my life, so hard that it hurts, I feel more loved that I’ve ever felt in my life. “Momma, I gotta go. I love you.”

It’s all I can say. It’s all I can think. I can’t hear her anymore. I can’t hear her promise me she’s going to find me and that I’m going to be ok. I can’t hear that, ‘cause I know it’s not true. I know any minute that light is going to turn green and we’re all going to be dead.

I hand the phone back to Trace and squeeze Sarah against me. I cry and I cry and I cry and I hold her tighter than I’ve ever held anyone else. But then she pulls away. I try to keep hold of her but she pulls away and she looks at me strangely.

Trace talks to her. “Sarah, you need to go back. Don’t forget to take Abu. And don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Ok.” She just stares at Trace and then runs and gets her stuffed animal and holds the phone tightly in her hand.

“Go Sarah...go…”

I try to grab her as she runs back up the stairs. “No…no!” But the door shuts and the light turns red. I try to crawl after her, but Trace holds me back. “Let her go. Elisha said they were on their way, she said they already had been tipped off by this place but couldn’t find a way to get in. Apparently, it’s heavily guarded. But now they are. Now they’re in. It’s only going to be a few more minutes Justin. We didn’t even have to call. They knew where we were. They’re coming for us.”

“What about Sarah….Why did she have to go?”

“She’ll be ok. I promise she’ll be ok.”

I use all my strength to push him off me. “How do you know!”

He just stares at me and I stare at him. He looks different. He has color in his cheeks now. His black eye is almost gone and he looks at me with concern, not fear. In fact, I don’t think he has any fear in him at all. Tears of happiness are on his cheeks. Son of a bitch. Happiness? Fucking happiness? The boy is delusional. And I want nothing to do with him.

“Just shut up and leave me alone Trace. Don’t fucking talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t get near me.”

“But…”

“Keep on thinking we’re going to be saved, but I know...”

“Justin…They’re on their way. I promise you. They’re…”

But he stops. And so do I. I try to see through the darkness but I can’t. It’s utterly dark. Darker than before. Darker than when uncle cuts the lights out for nighttime. There’s not a speck of light and I wonder. Did I die? Am I dead?”

“Justin…” Trace whispers my name. No, I’m not dead, or if I am, Trace is dead, too.

“Yeah?”

“I guess they think it’s nighttime.”

I look around, I try to look around but all I see I blackness. I pull my hand in front of my face, I touch my face. I can’t see my hand, but I feel it. We’re still alive. But something’s changed. Something’s about to happen. I can feel it.

I look around some more and I realize it’s not nighttime. No, it’s far from nighttime. “No Trace…”

“What?”

“There’s no red light.” I stare at where the door should be. Even at nighttime there’s a little red light, a little dot glowing by the doorway for the alarm system. Now there’s nothing.