Chapter 13

It’s deathly quiet. I hear nothing but my own breathing. My eyes have started to adjust in the darkness but there’s not enough light to make out much. I know I can see movement when my hand waves in front of my face, but other than that…. Complete darkness.

I think Trace has passed out. He’s not making a sound. I can’t even hear him breathe. I’m just waiting. Waiting for someone to come save me, to kill me, for someone to tell me I’m dead. Or maybe this is death, darkness and quiet for the rest of my eternity.

God no, please don’t let this be death.

I hear something, a thud, a footstep, nothing more. A sharp in take of breath, but not my own. Trace is still there. Thank God. Maybe this isn’t death. I hope I’m not dead. The sleep I wanted moments ago faded away and I don’t think I can ever sleep again. I don’t know what is happening upstairs, but I hope Sarah is ok. I hope she’s not scared.

The sound comes back, this time more, this time louder. Footsteps, it sounds like running. I think I hear a yell, faint and far off, but maybe that’s just my mind playing another trick, another sick little joke. Silence again. This time it lasts and lasts.

And then the distant sound of rapid gun fire. And then silence again.

"Shit, just-"

"Shut up."

I don’t mean to be an ass to Trace, but I can’t have him freak out. ‘Cause I’m already freaked out. It sounds like a war is happening in the distance and I wonder how long it will be until someone finds us, good or bad. He takes in another breath and I feel him move beside me, closer to me. He leans against the wall with me and sighs.

“Remember that time I popped your bike tire?”

I don’t answer him. That was years ago, ten I think. I was just ending middle school. I had just come back to Millington after MMC. Trace got pissed at me and popped my bike tires. We were mad at each other for a week. It’s the longest we’ve ever been mad at each other.

I hear another gun shot and make a very, very important decision. If I’m going to die within the hour I don’t want it to be with me straining to hear every gun shot and footstep. I want to be with Trace and talk to him, talk to him like I haven’t been able to for two weeks.

Has it been that long? Has it been longer?

I clear my throat, “Yeah, I remember.”

It’s quiet again but finally he whispers, “I’m really sorry about that.”

I find myself smiling and I nudge him with my elbow. It’s weird. I feel normal again. I feel different. Calm. Maybe I’ve come to terms with my mortality. Maybe it’s finally sunk in. Sarah’s gone, we’re going soon. Maybe it won’t be so bad. “It's ok. I got you back by pulling out your playboy so your mom could see."

“Asshole."

He chuckles and I start to laugh, too. It dies down and then it’s quiet again. No, not quiet. Silent.

And I can’t stand it. “‘member tit-fucker..."

Trace laughs. “With the blow up doll?'

"God, what the fuck happened to him?"

“I think he choked on his blow up doll.”

That’s funny. We laugh again. “That kid was so crazy.” We keep laughing.

“I think he’s living in Missouri now.”

“Right.”

It’s silent again, until a loud explosion occurs. I can only hear it, but I feel it shake me on the inside. I try my best to keep us talking, keep our minds away from whatever is happening outside this basement. It’s hard.

I quickly keep talking. "Remember that time we accidentally locked ourselves in your dad's trunk..."

But Trace doesn’t say anything for a moment and finally, after about a minute of quiet he replies, “that was scary.” I can hear a distant thudding right before he keeps talking. “Ya know Justin, this is nothing like that..."

“Yeah…” I take in a quick breath and cough. There’s that taste of blood again. I know, I know that’s not good. But I’m going to ignore it. “I was about to say the same..."

He cuts me off. “Remember you said...you said that you could die happy if you got a Grammy or two?”

I don’t want to hear him. I don’t want to hear that. Yeah, that made me happy, but I was drunk when I said that. And right now, right this very moment, I’m not that happy and I really don’t want to die. I’ll give the Grammies back, I’ll never accept one again. Just don’t let me die.

I can’t stand it and I stop that path of the conversation. “I can’t believe we were fucking chasing a parrot...”

He’s quiet and then he laughs a little, just a chuckle. But then it grows and it grows and I find myself laughing along with him. We’re laughing so hard that it hurts my stomach. “A fucking parrot.”

“Oh Trace, you never cease to amaze me. A fucking bird?”

He laughs. “Hey! It was a cool ass parrot...”

I nod and laugh a little more. “It was a cool ass bird.”

We both stop laughing. We stop laughing suddenly. We don’t talk and it’s silent once again.

It felt good to laugh, but now I feel sick. I feel nauseous. We wait there for God knows how long. It’s been quiet upstairs for a while and I have no idea what is possibly going on. But I don’t feel like laughing and I don’t think he does either.

It’s coming. Our fate is coming towards us. I just know it. And I know I’ve been a little crazy lately, a little obsessed, a little out of it. But I didn’t know what to do. I thought I was in control when we first were put down here. I thought I could beat it, beat him, figure all this out and make us safe. I always have to be in charge. Always.

But I wasn’t in charge. Never was. And I’m sure as hell not in charge now.

At least Trace is still here. At least we’re in this together.

He sighs and I feel him slouch and lean against me a little bit. He clears his throat and finally says, “I want my girl, Justin.”

I realize then that if I do get out of here, if I make it and go back to my life, something’s going to happen. Something’s gotta change. I’ve been in this hell for who knows how long. I’ve been fed crap, been tortured and beaten up, been threatened and I haven’t thought about her. I haven’t thought about “my girl” except when uncle rubbed it in my face that she was a celebrity and that he wanted all her money. And even then, I didn’t care.

Maybe I never did. Or maybe I stopped. And as horrible as it sounds, she just seemed not to matter anymore. I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to see my momma, my brothers, my family, but I didn’t…I didn’t care about her.

I cared about living, about getting out of here, about saving my life.

I cared about Sarah.

I still do.

I feel I need to respond but I can’t say “me too” so I sigh and lean against him a bit as he leans against me. “Well, I want momma..."

“What about Cam?”

I ignore him. “And a beer..."

“Justin, what about Cam?”

I shake my head and sit up a bit. “Yeah a beer and a pizza would be damn nice..."

It’s quiet and I hope he’s going to give it a rest. But he doesn’t. “What about Cameron, Justin?”

I gulp. “What about her?” He doesn’t say anything and I sigh. I think about this experience and I think about her. I didn’t tell him this when it happened cause I figured it didn’t matter. But it fucking matters now. And it mattered then. I was just too nervous or anxious or fucked up to realize it. “Ya know Trace, that first night, when I had to call her and tell her where I was? Well I fucking called her. And I told her. I tell the girl that I'm kidnapped and she's concerned about what "she's" gonna do..."

“She...she was just freaking out..."

“No, she wasn’t freaked out. She had an attitude. Meanwhile, Elisha was screaming her head off in the background, terrified. I think she knew Trace. I think she knew something bad had happened. And I bet…”

“She did. When I talked to her the first time she said she knew, but Cameron said that we were fucking around, probably got drunk in a bar and we’re lost somewhere. Elisha wanted to call the park, but Cameron said no.”

I bite my lip. I don’t use this word lightly with women, but I don’t care anymore. “Bitch.”

It’s silent again. No thudding, no footsteps, nothing.

“Ya know, I told you that she was shady, J.

I nod “Yeah, yeah you did.”

“Not quite as shady as that Sarah girl…”

I cut him off before he makes a mistake and makes me mad. I don’t want him talking about Sarah like that. She’s…she can’t help how she acts. If anyone in this whole deal is innocent, it’s her. “Sarah’s not shady, Trace. She’s been fucked up by a psychotic asshole...”

“You like her, don’t you?” His tone doesn’t approve. But I don’t care. So what if I like her? It’s not like I sit there and whack off to her. I care about her, I’m curious about her and I want to help her. And she’s beautiful in her own strange way. I know there could never be anything there with us. She’s a woman who’s been forced to live her life as a child. I’m not stupid.

I just care.

I start thinking and I don’t really realize that I’m saying it out loud. “I wonder...I wonder who her family is...”

“Well her uncle…”

I grit out, “That son of a bitch isn’t her uncle.” It makes me angry to consider him family. He’s not family. He’s a psycho. I’ve figured it out. I know who he is, who he is to her. And it’s sick.

“How are you so sure?”

“I just am. Did you ever get a good look, Trace? At how he tucked her in and kissed her goodnight?'

“Shit Justin, I didn't pay attention! I was trying to stay alive.”

“Well, I paid attention. And he…he was touching her and shit, man”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Like…”

“Like, you know…bad touching.” I’m twenty three years old and I can’t say it. I can’t say that he was molesting her. It’s too harsh, too strong. Too disgusting.

“So, when- when she was saying she was a good girl or whatever and got to go upstairs…shit.” He gets it. He finally gets it. Maybe that’s why I feel so connected to her and Trace doesn’t. I know what goes on. I know what he does to her and I know that she’s just a poor girl who’s been brainwashed by this poor excuse for a human. Maybe now he’ll start to see why I need to protect her and care for her since no one else has. “I don't think she deserves it...she seems innocent in all this to me.”

“She is innocent, Trace.” What the hell is he talking about? Did he think she was a part of this kidnapping? Did he think she was just fucking with us this whole time? “Why else do you think he put us down there with her?"

“To annoy us or give her friends?"

"No...don’t you see ? All of us are fucking kidnapped. Me you and Sarah."

He doesn’t understand. He’ll never understand. He doesn’t know her like I do. “How? Justin...that girl...she lives down here.”

“She doesn’t live here! She’s imprisoned down here. Just like us. He’s kept her inside here, away from the world. He brainwashed her! That fucking shit bag took an innocent girl and fucking made her think she was a child. Made her have sex with him and worship him all because he’s sick and twisted. I want to kill him Trace. I want to see him die.”

I’m angry. I’m angrier than I think I’ve ever been in my life and I can feel myself get energy, gain power. I push myself on all fours and start to crawl towards the steps. If the fucking army or FBI or police or whoever can’t kill him, I sure as hell will.

But Trace grabs me. “Justin…” How can he say it like that? How can he keep so even and level and calm? He’s going to kill us. He’s going to kill her.

He probably already has.

“You need to calm down, okay?”

“God Trace! And if we do get out of here, if we are rescued, all of us…what's gonna happen to her if she gets out of this?” I feel my eyes burn and I think I’m going to cry again. I’m sick of crying, sick of hurting. I just want it all to stop.

I’m getting tired again.

“Then she’ll get the help she needs.” He’s pulling me into a hug again. I don’t want to be held. I just want to go home. “Don’t worry about her Justin. Just calm down.”

I can’t believe him. I push him away. “Don't worry about her? Don’t fucking worry about her! Trace...are you hearing yourself? Do you know how hard it was for her to do what she did for us? She risked her life to get that phone for us. If she didn't get it...you know what? We'd…we’d probably be dead right now!”

“No we wouldn’t.”

“How do you know!”

It’s quiet. I realize then that I was screaming. I taste blood again and clear my throat. Maybe, maybe I should lie down. I do, and Trace puts his hand on my shoulder.

“‘Cause Elisha said they already knew where we were. Just take a breath and calm down. You’re getting too excited and its making you cough.”

I’m having a hard time breathing. It hurts every time. It makes me wonder if maybe something’s happening inside of me, like something bad. I mean, they did beat up me really hard and pretty frequently lot. What if they don’t rescue us in time? What if I’m dying right now?

“Maybe we should try and get out..."

Trace laughs a little and pats my shoulder. Don’t fucking patronize me Trace. Don’t you dare start. “There's nowhere to go, Justin. It’s dark and we just need to wait for them to find us. It’ll be soon, I’m sure.”

I clear my throat. “I’m not so sure about that Trace.” I take a breath and use all my strength and scream, “CAN'T YOU FUCKING HEAR ME! WE’RE DOWN HERE!”

I start to cough again and it hurts really bad. It’s a pain that lingers and lingers and the taste of blood won’t go away. I’m just glad it’s dark. I think if Trace could see me, he’d freak.

“Justin come on...you need to stop that.”

I start to cry again. I…I really think I’m going to die down here. I don’t want to die, especially here. Please…please don’t make me die. “I want to get the fuck out of here, Trace. I want to go home so bad.”

I hear him start to cry too and he tells me he wants to go home as well. It’s been quiet for too long. What if they forgot about us? What if they can’t find us? Maybe I should scream again. Maybe I should go pound on the door. I think I can make it.

There’s footsteps again. Lots of them. Quick ones. I hear yells, distant, still there though. I grab Trace. “Shit Trace! What if...What if it’s him? What if he’s going to…" I suck in a breath. “I don't want to die Trace.” I think I can make him out in the darkness. I see him, I think.

Or maybe my eyes just want to see him, just want to look at my best friend one more time before we die.

He shakes me. “We're not gonna die okay? If he does comes down here… Well, we'll just...we'll just fight back!”

“What if he has a gun?”

He doesn’t respond. And I know I have my answer. If he has a gun, we’re gone. Dead. Finished, forever.

Trace sighs and I hear him move. I hear him stand up and start to shuffle away. Where the hell is he going? “Well if I’m dying, I’m dying with a damn Capri Sun in my hand.”

I don’t say anything. I hear him walking and then the sound of a door opening. Light doesn’t come from the fridge and there’s no noise from it either. I realize that the power must be off. Someone cut the whole damn power of this place off. I wonder if it was uncle, or if it was the police. I can hear him cursing to himself quietly and then he laughs a little and I hear him shuffle back over.

He plops down beside me and I feel a little cool pouch of liquid put against my leg. I grab it and I laugh. “Dammit Trace, you know I can’t do these fucking straws, especially in the dark.”

He grabs the pouch and laughs, "I've always been your little bitch, huh?" It’s quiet and he hands me the pouch back. I take a sip. It’s sweet and washes away the taste of blood.

It’s the best damn thing I’ve tasted. Ever.

Trace laughs again. “You’re a worshipped celebrity and what do I have to do…I still have to open your damn juice boxes. Really, Justin…sometimes you make me…”

There’s someone at the door. There’s a knocking, a pounding. It’s here. Our fate is here.

It’s all led up to this. I put down the juice and grab Trace. “I...I love you, ok?”

He doesn’t say anything back. He just grabs me, grabs my arm. He’s shaking. Or is that me? I can hear my heart beat.

A second later the door busts open. Light, high, strong, piercing beams of light come through. It blinds me; I can’t see anything but the light getting closer and closer and closer. Is this death? Are they coming to take me away forever? I feel someone grab me and I push them away.

“No!” I’m not ready dammit!

I try to swing but one arm won’t move and I can’t see where I’m trying to hit.

And then I hear it. I hear someone say, “We’re only here to help you, Justin.” It’s an American. I don’t know who he is. I don’t know what’s happening. I feel something grab me, someone grab me, maybe two people grab me. I’m lifted up. “Let’s get you boys home.”

But this is home. Why can’t I see? Where’s Trace? “Where’s Sarah? Where is she!”

They don’t answer me and it hurts. It hurts so bad.

The light changes. It’s not as dark. I’m outside the room. Am I free? I can see now. We’re in a hallway, a long hallway. People are all around, surrounding me, with helmets and dark suits of camouflage and guns. I don’t know who they are or where they are taking me. We pass a room.

A room with more men, more camouflage, more guns…

And a man in white stands in the middle with a gun in his hand, a gun pointed at….at…

“SARAH!”

I call for her but then she disappears. They’re running me out of there. I keep calling, and I try to hit the people carrying me, holding me. I need to get to her. Don’t they get it! He’s going to kill her. “He’s going to kill her! Stop it!!” Why won’t they answer me? Why won’t they just let me go? I…I have to save her!

Twilight. It’s only Twilight outside. The sky’s not dark yet, lavender is the color and soft pink. I wanna go back inside. I want my Sarah. Please…just give me my Sarah.

There’s people all around, flashing lights, screams and yells, sirens and…and a gunshot.

My world fades. It fades from the lavender and the sirens and the flashes and the people to a blur, to a grey. Color fails. It’s slackens and disappears.