50. Esperr
ESPERR
I’m hit with this immense amount of pain the moment my brain wakes up. A nauseating throb starts at the front of my skull and radiates back until it’s resting at the base of my neck. But it’s everywhere: behind my eyes, my teeth, even the hinge of my jaw.
I try to breathe through it—trying to remember how breathing even works.
My eyelids feel like they’re being weighed down by something, but I fight through, forcing them open anyway.
The light hits me like a punishment—bright and bare, enough that I squeeze my eyes shut again immediately, a small sound escaping through my clenched teeth before I can stop it.
For a moment I stay there, breathing heavily, waiting for the white dots behind my eyelids to stop pulsing. And then I try again, slower this time.
One eyelid at a time, I peel back, and the first thing I’m only able to kind of concentrate on is the concrete on either side of me.
My gaze catches a crack running along the corner wall, and slowly my head lifts, tracing it to the ceiling.
I blink, and then blink again, letting my eyes drag over the wall—the ceiling and then?—
I’m in a basement.
The thought hits me square in the chest.
Panic rises up fast, and no matter how much I try to press it down, it continues until it’s wrapped around my throat. I can’t be here; I can’t be back down?—
“Esperr.”
The sound of my name, barely a breath, barely anything at all, hits me.
My head snaps forward, the motion too fast and the pain spikes white-hot; I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from making noise. A mix of black and white dots dances around my vision, and I blink, trying to clear it.
When I finally reopen my eyes, they’re clear, and I see her, there, across from me, maybe six or seven feet away. She’s tied to a chair, wrists bound to the armrest, feet tied together, and a cut above her eyebrow that has dried dark against her skin.
Jessi.
Her eyes are on me, wide and glossy and terrified in a way I’ve never seen on her face before, not once in all the time I’ve known her. And she’s whispering my name like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered.
And somehow that makes my chest split open.
“Jessi.” My voice comes out wrecked, too thick, and raspy. I swallow and try again, quieter this time. “Jessi, I’m—I’m here.”
Her breath shudders out of her, and her lips press together like she’s trying to hold herself back from bursting out in tears. “I didn’t—I don’t know what’s happening. He… Eli, he just came into the office and I tried to?—”
“Hey.” I keep my voice low, as quiet as I can be but enough that she can hear me, being mindful of the stairs behind her. “It’s okay… hey, hey, look at me.”
Her eyes snap open, tears filling them. “My head,” she exhales shakily. “He hit me, I think. I don’t know; he was talking one… he was talking, and then I just woke up here.”
The tears fall before I can decide whether to let them.
But I hold back any sound that might threaten to come out—letting the tears slide down my face, hot and useless because this is all my fault.
Whatever Michael’s got planned, it’s all my fault.
Jessi’s in this basement with dried blood on her face because she was too close to me.
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, my head falling back to look up at the ceiling.
The crack in the concrete runs diagonal, corner to corner. I stare at it because it gives my eyes somewhere to go that isn’t Jessi’s face. If I look at her right now, I’m going to fall apart completely, and I can’t do that, not now.
Instead, I glance around the room, trying to gather my surroundings. Zip ties keep my hands placed firmly against the arm rest, and I imagine it’s the same thing around my ankles. Guess he learned from the last time.
The chair itself feels heavy and solid, and I bite my lip because it’s not the kind that tips easily. I test it anyway, with a small shift of weight, and it barely moves.
Unlike last time.
“Esperr.” Jessi's voice is fraying, emotions getting the best of her. “Esperr, please… say something, please.”
I bring my head back around and look at her, really look, at the cut above her eyebrow and the way her hands are shaking where they’re bound, just like mine.
The way she’s holding herself like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible, like maybe if she’s small enough none of this is really happening.
“I’m here,” I say quietly. “I’m… I’m right here.” A sigh slips through me.
“I don’t—I don’t understand what’s happening.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t understand why?—”
“I know.” I keep my voice even, pouring everything I have into being the one to remain calm. “I know you don’t. I’m sorry, Jessi. I’m so sorry.”
“I–” She shakes her head. “Don’t apologize; it’s not your fault. Is… is anyone going to know where we are?”
Zyran.
He’s going to find me. I don’t know how, and I don’t know how fast, but he is—that’s who’s going to find us. And that’s what he does, that’s who he is, and I know deep in my soul that it’s going to be him. He’s not going to let anything happen to me. He’s going to make sure I’m safe.
He’ll come and that’s what I hold onto.
And somehow that thought alone is enough to calm my racing heart.
“Yes,” I finally muttered. “Someone will know.”
Jessi lets out a long, shuddering breath, and I watch some of the tension leave her shoulders, and for just a moment I’m glad?—
The door at the top of the stairs opens, and footsteps follow, one at a time. I already know who it is before I glance over, and when I do, Michael reaches the bottom of the steps. His hands are loose at his sides, eyes sweeping the room before they land on me, and then he smiles.
“Actually,” he says pleasantly and almost a little too much so, “it is her fault.”
Jessi goes rigid, and my heart freezes.
The silence stretches, and then slowly, almost like it’s in a movie, she turns towards me—the confusion on her face is worse than anger would’ve been.
I hold her gaze, refusing to look away.
I have to tell her; I owe her that much.
But when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
There are not words that are right, no version of it that doesn’t sound like a confession, like an apology, like the unraveling of every normal thing Jessi thought she knew about the girl she hired to make coffee and open every morning.
The silence stretches one beat too long, and Michael’s had enough.
“Well,” he starts, moving further into the basement. “Shall I?”
My jaw hardens, watching him move closer to Jessi, stopping between us while he glances between us.
“Esperr and I go way back,” he starts, tilting her head.
“It was long before she was Esperr Davis, long before this stupid town, and before she started working endless shifts.” His eyes slide to me, and he holds my gaze—irritation claws up my spine.
Jessi becomes very still, and I don’t even have to look at her to know.
“Esperr’s name isn’t really Esperr,” he continues, like this is an ordinary conversation. “It’s Melody, Melody Allan. And I’ve known her for a very long time.”
This time I can’t help but look over at Jessi, who’s already staring at me, and this time the confusion is hidden, but with something fragile moving underneath it. The hurt of someone realizing the person they trusted had a whole life that they never mentioned.
“Esperr—” she starts.
“Melody,” Michael corrects, irritation slipping through his voice.
I want to scream at him to shut his mouth, to shove it up his ass. Hundreds of insults fly into my head, but I’m left sitting there with my hands tied down while I look at Jessi, saying the only thing that’s true right now.
“I’m so sorry.” A tear slips down my cheek.
Michael moves, going somewhere behind me so I can no longer see him. I swallow, trying to keep my racing heart beat down, not wanting to give him any part of myself, especially not my fear.
It’s not long before he comes around the corner, and my gaze drops to the metal pipe in his hand. I freeze, preparing for him to hit me, and then suddenly he’s walking past me and towards Jessi.
“Don’t,” I grit out, my voice coming out sharp. “Whatever you want, I’m right here, please… just talk to me?—”
He swings the pipe into Jessi’s leg without winding up, without warning, and it lands with a sound that I’ve heard before and prayed I’d never have to hear again.
Jessi’s scream tears out of her, sucking in a breath that gets caught in her lungs.
“Stop!” I yank against the restraints, hissing when the zip ties bite hard into my wrist. The chair scrapes against the concrete, but it doesn’t move, not really. “Stop it, just stop, stop! I’m right here, what do you want?—”
He hits her again. Same spot as before.
Jessi’s head drops forward, her whole body curling in on itself as much as the zip ties allow; a broken, gasping sound comes out of her that doesn’t sound like a person anymore, that sounds like something being wrung out.
“Please.” The word tears out of me—it’s raw and ugly, but I don’t care. “Please, she has nothing to do with this, she doesn’t know anything, please… please just stop?—”
Eli straightens up, rolling his shoulder once, almost too casual, like he’s just working out a kink. He looks at me, and there’s nothing behind his eyes, no anger or satisfaction or anything I can grab onto and reason with.
“I know,” he sighs.
I frown for a moment, and then understanding hits me.
This isn’t about Jessi; she was just the fastest way to me, and he’s known that.
And there’s nothing I can do, but watch as Jessi cries, her entire body shaking, and I can’t reach her, I can’t do anything, I can’t?—
“Look at me.” He growls, and it’s directed towards me now. There’s no softness, not that there ever was, but there’s that hint of anger he was trying to keep from me. “I’ve been very patient, Melody.” He crouches down in front of my chair until we’re eye-level. “I just want you to understand that.”