25. Melody
Melody
M y head pounds and throbs. I hiss out in pain as I lift myself up, shivering at the cold. It's cold and… dark. A single lightbulb casts a hazy yellow glow on the far side of the room. Where the fuck am I?
I sit up straight with my heart frantically pounding in my chest. It looks like a jail cell. Iron bars stretch from floor to ceiling, trapping me in. No. No, no, no. Oh, fuck. A jail cell and a torture chamber.
A single steel chair sits in the middle of the room, bolted to the floor. On my right is another cell, where Helena sits on her heels, her face wet with tears.
"Oh, thank god, Melody!" she whisper-yells. "I thought you were dead, I didn't—I couldn't—you weren't moving— I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't keep you safe."
Rubbing my eyes, she comes into focus a little more. Her face is bruised, and my heart sinks. She's got a hell of a black eye and split lip, with crusty dried blood on her chin. Her usually perfect strawberry blonde ponytail is missing, shoulder-length locks matted with sweat.
"What? No, no. You're okay. You're okay, sweet pea." I swipe my hair out of my face and yelp in pain as my fingers touch the back of my head. "Shit, that hurts. Fuck. Where are we?"
"I don't know. I don't know. There are two of them—or maybe three, I don't know." She breaks down into quiet sobs as she repeats herself, over and over, her shoulders shaking.
I scramble over to the bars that join our cells—cages, really—and reach my hand out to her. She snatches it and sidles up next to me, leaning her head on the bars.
"What did they do to you?" I whisper.
She sniffles and shakes her head. "They—they want Dante. I don't know. They asked me so many questions, and I refused to answer—I refused, and they kept hitting me. Over and over. I screamed so loud, and all I can feel is… shame."
"Shame? For screaming? Oh, honey, no. Scream like hell. Make them hurt . Why the fuck do they want Dante?" I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. I hope it's at least a tiny bit of comfort in this hell.
"I mean, you know he's important, right?"
"Well… yeah. Yeah, of course. Shit! Is this the same people who hacked our phones?" My head swims, and I lean into her, resting my cheek on the cold metal between our faces.
"Probably. Oh, fuck, I hear something! Shush!" She releases my hand and scuttles away from me, shakily getting to her feet.
"Good morning, ladies! How are we feeling?"
I furrow my brow and try to think. The voice sounds so familiar, but I can't place it. My heart pounds faster as their footsteps come down the stairs, inching closer by the second.
Click .
"Oh, fuck," I gasp and shield my eyes. Horrendously bright fluorescent lights attack my senses and overwhelm me in an instant.
"Stay away from her," Helena snarls. She deserves a raise. The biggest raise. I don't think I have that authority, but I don't care. She's beat to hell and still worried about me? What have I done to deserve her?
"Relax, momma bear. I'm just checking in on our distinguished guest." The person taps on the metal bars of my cage, and I squint into the bright light.
"Who are you?" I whisper.
"You don't remember me? I'm hurt, Melly-bean.
I thought we had a really nice rapport going on.
" They laugh, and my eyes finally focus.
Black boots tap impatiently before me below dark navy pants with bright blue piping on the outside seams. A black leather jacket embroidered with the police insignia on the breast tops off the look, and my mouth goes dry.
Trembling, I focus on her face, and I know I'm completely fucked.
Her bright red hair is, as always, swept back into a low bun.
The fluorescent lighting makes the red practically glow.
"D-detective Ella?" I manage to stammer out.
"You do remember me! I knew you had it in you, kiddo. And wow, you sure are speedrunning life accomplishments, huh? Last we spoke, you'd just gotten married. And now you're pregnant! Congratulations on the little demon spawn, Mel." She lets out a sadistic laugh and stares down at me.
"Why are we here?" I squeak out and chance a peek over at Helena. She hangs her head and stares at the floor, mumbling something under her breath.
"What, you don't like my accommodations? Used to luxury hotels already?" She pops a squat and stares directly into my eyes. "I'm saving you, can't you tell?"
"Saving me? From what?" My head throbs again, and I can't help but groan from the pain.
"From yourself, obviously. You're a danger to society. You've killed, what, three? Four people? There's no rehabilitating that. No, it's best to keep you sequestered away. You and your little accomplice over there." She jerks her head over at Helena.
"No. Helena didn't do anything. She hasn't even seen anything—I've never talked to her about… about that." I shake my head and wince again. Fuck, everything I do just hurts .
"About what, Melody? Speak up, now." Ella rattles her baton—god, where did that come from?—against the bars.
"About the murders!" I yell. "I never told her that I killed anyone!"
"So, you admit you killed people?" Ella smirks.
"Sure. Whatever. I killed Charlie, I killed Frank, I killed… shit, who even was that other guy?" My head swims in the blinding light. "I don't know who that was. But I did. I did it. Helena didn't do anything ."
"Thanks ever so much, Melody. That's all I need—for now. Get used to this face, Mel-bell. You'll be seeing it all over the news." Ella clicks something in her pocket and abruptly turns away from me, practically skipping back over to the stairs. The stairs that stand between me and freedom.
Helena and I stay absolutely still, absolutely silent until we hear the clunk of the steel door locking shut. She breathes out a puff of air and scoots closer to me again. "God dammit."
"What just happened?" I rub my eyes and hide my face. Fuck, Ella left those god-awful lights on. I don't want her to come back , but maybe I can throw something at the light switch. It's too bright. It's too much .
"I think you might have just confessed to multiple murders. To a cop," Helena says shakily.
Holy shit. I did. I did . I'm a fucking idiot, and I freely, verbally, stupidly confessed to multiple goddamn murders to a pig . "Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Fucking hell. Shit!"
Helena whispers something, but I can't hear it. I can't hear her. I can only hear myself and my frantic breaths. The blood rushing through my veins. The skip in my heartbeat, pounding against my ribs, and the weight of my actions crushing my skull.
"Melody!" Helena jabs at my shoulder through the bars. "It's going to be okay. Really. The Consortium has the best lawyers, and if I know Dante like I think I do? He's going to retain all of them."
"But what if it doesn't work?"
"It will." Conviction shines in her eyes. She believes every single word she's saying. And it helps me believe her, too. "I know it will work."
Helena and I lost our shoes. Both of us.
We tried throwing them at the light switch over on the far wall, but neither of us played softball—or baseball—and the horrendous lights stay on.
They cast a clinical glow over everything in this disgusting basement.
Clearly, Ella never had the forethought to install a drain like Dante did.
And I'm starting to smell myself. I don't know how long we've been here, maybe only a day?
But the shooting range was sweaty work, as was panicking in a grocery store bathroom.
The fresh scent of my deodorant is long gone, and it just adds to the frantic misery I find myself spiraling into.
Running my finger along my arm, I wince at the thin layer of grime coating my skin.
"Do you think they have cameras down here?" I whisper to Helena, trying not to move my mouth.
She shakes her head. "No. Before that dickhead turned the lights on, I looked everywhere for even the faintest hint of a red light. Infrared, you know? Sometimes you can see it. But look at the ceilings—there's nowhere to hide one."
I follow her gaze to the concrete ceiling. She's right. There aren't any vents—there are no dome-like cameras attached to the solid walls enclosing us. The only thing in the room with us is the bolted-down chair and our fucking cages. Oh, and our shoes scattered across the floor.
"What about the stairwell?" I ask, squinting into the light. I can only see the first five steps or so, but beyond that is a mystery.
"Maybe," she shrugs. "But wouldn't they want us to know we're being watched? Adding to the element of fear?"
"You've really thought this out," I say with the ghost of a smile.
"Comes with the job, babes. And, um, Melody? I'm really, really sorry I didn't protect you." Her voice cracks again, and I find myself welling up with tears, too. Figures that it would take unlawful imprisonment to learn that I'm a sympathetic crier.
"You did protect me. You are protecting me. Don't ever apologize to me, okay?" I hoist myself up on my knees, pulling on the bars between us. "Promise?"
"I can't promise that." She reaches out and grazes my fingertips with hers.
My stomach lets out a very undignified growl. "Shit. Do you think they're just going to starve us down here?"
"No. No way. Ella wants to put you away. She wants the glory of catching a murderer, right? She wants the accolades. She'll keep us alive. There's no way she'll just let us die down here." Her stomach growls, too. "Hey, Melody?"
"Yeah?"
Helena's voice drops to a whisper. "Why did you lie for me?"
I furrow my brow and shake my head. "What do you mean?"
"When you said I didn't know. When you said I never knew about… any of the things you did. Why did you tell her that?"
I laugh. "Oh, easy. Because I don't fucking trust cops, and there's not a chance in hell that I'd implicate you in anything."
"But you could've—"
"But I wouldn't. " I sit up straight and stare into her eyes.
"She already knew about me. Hell, she's probably known for months.
She just needed me to say it. She'll probably, I don't know, get a promotion or something?
I don't know how cop jobs work. She'll be the long-suffering detective who put me away.
There's no reason for you to be anything but a footnote in the case file. "
"She's not going to put you away." Helena meets my gaze with her own. "Guarantee it. She'll try, and Dante will fuck her over at every turn. But still… thank you."
"Thank you. For everything. I feel like… I feel like you're the first real friend I've had in a long time." I smile with a tearful sniff. "Even though you're paid to hang out with me."
Helena laughs and wipes away the tear rolling down her own cheek. "Easiest money of my life. Can't believe I get paid to hang out with my best friend, really."
Best friend. Holy shit. Those two little words shouldn't make me sob uncontrollably, but I'm going to blame that on the pregnancy hormones.
I never really had a best friend when I was growing up.
Sure, I had my friend group, but I always felt like a hanger-on.
The obligation. Always invited to things last or as a runner-up.
If only those little shits could see me now.
My best friend is a badass ex-military queen who could beat the shit out of them —or anyone—without breaking a sweat.
Not only that, but she listens to me. And she talks to me, really talks to me, without making me feel like a burden. Someone to be placated.
"I love the hell out of you, Helena." I laugh again. I really do love her—platonically. It's funny, I said those words to her before I said anything remotely like that to Dante.
"Love you, too. Sorry if this is weird, but you kind of… you kind of feel like more of a sister than my actual sister." She rubs her eyes and stifles another laugh.
"Not weird. I get it. Never had any siblings, but if this is what it's like? Sign me the fuck up."
"Maybe you'll have a handful of kids with Dante, so they'll have siblings." She lolls her head to the side, smiling serenely.
I feel like my heart stops. The knowledge that I'm pregnant seems to flit in and out of my mind, like it's not even a real thing. Just a concept that might apply to me. After my massive freak-out, I'm chalking it up to the stress of being kidnapped and imprisoned. Again.
"I hope… I hope I do. And I hope you stick around. They'll need badass Auntie Helena to watch out for them and teach them how to shoot better than Momma ever could."
"You can't get rid of me that easy, babe."