CHAPTER 25
Astrid
… I’m alive?
Oh god, I’m alive!
Oh god… I’m alive.
Five senses, Astrid. You can do this. Pretend you’re unconscious and figure out where you are.
Taste. My tongue feels swollen and dry in my mouth. I couldn’t taste anything if I wanted to, but I am so thirsty. Goodness, I would do anything for a glass of water right now. My stomach growls angrily. How long have I been out?
Focus. Taste was useless as always. Smell. Uck, sweat. I reek and am in desperate need of a shower. Two senses down, but I have the best three left.
Touch. Smooth, cold metal. My neck is hunched in an unnatural angle, my limbs sprawled at my sides.
One of my legs is curled underneath me while the other is bent to fit.
There is not enough room to lay down fully.
I can touch all four walls from the position I was dumped, sprawled carelessly without a second thought.
Good news though, I’m not restrained. Despite that, my joints ache from the cramped and awkward confinement.
Other parts throb and I remember the rubber bullets ricocheting into my body. I’m sure I have a few nasty bruises.
Sound. The wind is roaring outside. I think there might also be some birds, but they are faint in the distance. No engines, no cars, no voices. Wait, that’s wrong. I hear someone groaning nearby. Sparks!
“Sparks!” I jerk awake, disregarding the five senses strategy. Is she okay? Where is she? “Sparks!”
It looks like I’m in something similar to a shipping crate, about one step wide and one stride long.
My shoulders nearly brush the narrow walls, but I could probably sit comfortably enough if I wanted.
The box is tall enough that I can't reach the ceiling. All four walls are smooth, except for a covered slot on the door. I push on the door and find it bolted shut from the outside. Holes are drilled near the top of the crate. I’m glad they made air holes, they must not plan on killing us right away.
Oh god, what are they going to do to us?
“I’m here.” Her voice is strained, coming from outside of my room. “Are you okay?”
“I could use a shower,” I say. “You?”
“I have a crick in my neck something awful,” she jokes dryly. “But I suppose I’ll live.” Her voice cracks at the last word as she comes to the same concern as me.
I hug my arms to my chest, hissing as I brush the already-developed bruises on my shoulders. The white lace of my tank top is a stark contrast to the deep purple hues. My stomach growls angrily, a sharp pain amidst the aches I feel everywhere else.
“Good morning, ladies!” A male voice calls. I hear him clap his hands together excitedly as a cacophony of footsteps sound in the room outside my crate. “Who’s ready to have some fun? What about the redhead?”
A hand knocks against metal. I see a bright light flash through the air holes and hear a spew of profanity. Finally, I smell something helpful. Burned flesh.
“You fucking bitch!” The man is in pain. Good job, Sparks. “You’ll regret that.”
The footsteps recede quickly. I chuckle at our little victory.
“Who was the genius that put Sparks in a metal box?” I ask aloud, hoping to get a laugh out of her. She doesn’t.
“That trick will only work once.” Her voice is calm, but I can sense the layer of fear below. “They’ll figure it out when they realize their phone batteries are dead…”
“Well…” I pause. “It was worth it.”
“We’ll see.”
We sit in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes until the footsteps come back. I can almost hear Sparks hold her breath. Or maybe that was me.
“Now it’s time to play.”
His boots stomp across wooden floors.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Who wants to play with me?”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“I think she needs a time out, so it would have to be…”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“You.”
Metal clangs as the braces against my crate disengage and the door swings open. I am on my feet, cowering against the back corner.
“Don’t touch her!” I hear Sparks roar, fists banging on her container. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
He grins at me, malice flickering in his eyes. He lifts two fingers, beckoning me out. I shake my head, clinging to the wall.
“Grab her,” he orders coldly.
A second man strides into the box. He lunges for my arm, but I push myself off the wall to jump over him. I dart out of the crate, but two other men were waiting for me, catching me in their arms.
“No, no, no!” I struggle in their grasp. “Let me go!”
A fist comes out of nowhere, connecting with my cheek. I fall to the side, slamming into the metal door. Blood drips from a cut on my eyebrow. A knee pushes into my spine as my hands are wrenched behind my back, handcuffs cinched too tightly.
“Astrid!” Sparks desperately calls out. “Take me instead! Please!”
“You’ll get your chance,” the man croons cruelly. “Perhaps now is a good time to hear the rules?”
Strong arms hoist me to my knees as my blood splatters on the wooden planks below. The man in front of me looks down at me, glancing at my cleavage revealed by my shirt. Disgusted, I spit at his feet. In a flash, his bandaged hand grips my jaw, inches away from his face.
“You would do well to remember who is in control here.” He spits back at me, his saliva coating my cheek. He points at Sparks’s crate. “The only reason your girlfriend is alive is because I allow her to be.”
He takes a step back, still looking at me but speaking to the both of us.
“The rules are simple.” His voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Fight back, and I kill the other. Use your powers without explicit permission, and I kill the other. Try to escape, and I kill the other. In essence, do as we say and maybe you two will live long enough to serve our purpose. To prove I mean business…”
He gestures and the other men drag me across the floor into another room. I writhe in their grasp, but their grip is too strong.
“Wait, Astrid!” Sparks’s voice is panicked, any of her usual calm demeanor is long dissipated. “What are you doing with her?”
His only answer is a long, drawn-out cackle.
The color drains from my face as he slams the door behind him, muffling Sparks’s distraught cries.
This room is the same as the one we left, thick wooden slabs comprise the floor and walls.
A large door stands behind him, taunting me. He follows my gaze and chuckles.
“Already thinking about breaking a rule?” He places a finger under my chin, directing my eyes to him. “I would hate to kill your girlfriend so quickly. I haven’t even gotten to play with her yet.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. My breath comes in shallow pants as he glares down at me.
“Shame.” He purses his lips. “I guess for now, I’ll just play with you.”
His boot thrusts out. I keel over as it connects with my stomach.
The men drop me, but he keeps kicking. I pull at my restraints, unable to defend myself as his blows land on my ribs and torso.
He spits down on me as he walks away, sobs racking my shoulders.
Every breath expands my chest, sending a spasm through my body as my muscles protest the abuse.
“Cry louder,” the man taunts. “Scream a little. She can’t hear you in there.”
No. I won’t let him use me to hurt Sparks.
I take a deep breath and force my tears to fall silently.
This enrages him. He gestures to the two men, and they lift me to my feet, holding me steady as my legs give out.
The man swings his fist, sending an uppercut into my jaw.
My head whips back. I roll it around my shoulders, letting it slump on my chest. He hits me again.
I groan but hold back the rest of my sounds.
My thoughts swim slowly, intermixing with each other and becoming muddled.
I exhale, relaxing completely until I am limp in their arms.
“No!” The man complains grouchily. “You need to make this fun.”
“Way to go, Chadwick,” a new voice mocks. “You couldn’t even get a single scream out of her.”
I didn’t see the fifth man earlier. He’s reclined on a folding chair, as if my beatings were a basketball rerun. His blue baseball cap is pulled low over his face. I get the feeling that I’ve seen him before, but that could just be my oncoming concussion.
“You could help.” Chadwick grinds his teeth. “I don’t see you doing anything.”
“I’m supervising.” The man shrugs his shoulders, unbothered. “Don’t say you need me to do your job for you? I didn’t know you needed help to beat up a defenseless girl.”
“Fuck off.” Resentment flashes in Chadwick’s eyes. His nostrils flare as he grips my jaw, lifting my head. I scrunch my eyes closed, bracing for another blow.
“Chadwick, that’s not going to work,” the mystery man sighs. “You’ve already tried that, remember?”
“What the fuck would you recommend?” Chadwick steps away and his men drop me unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Easy, you need a sharper pain.” The man says this as though it was obvious. “One she can’t dissociate.”
“Like?”
“How ironic would it be…” his lips curl up into a sneer, “if we torture her using the symbol of her girlfriend? It should be the one thing that she should be safe from, but her girlfriend is too far away to protect her. Her girlfriend will hear the screams, knowing that in this moment, she was powerless to prevent them.”
“What?”
Chadwick isn’t following, but I am. I scoot back against the wall, fear taking over my body. The mystery man stands, tossing an object to Chadwick. I yelp as he grabs me by the hair, dragging me toward the metal chair. I struggle, clawing desperately at his hand.
“No!” My pleas fall on deaf ears. “Please, no! Stop!”
A second pair of cuffs constrain me to the chair despite my flailing body. Chadwick powers on the stun gun, smiling as it crackles. The two prongs light up as sparks dance between them. I lean away, but I can’t do anything as it comes into contact with my skin.
Chadwick gets what he wants as screams are ripped from my throat.
Spasms ripple through my body. The pain cuts through every single nerve ending, dissecting me to my core with piercing agony.
The current rips through me until darkness tinges the edge of my vision.
Then, and only then, does Chadwick pull away.
My pulse races as Chadwick laughs maniacally. He’s enjoying this, relishing in my torment. I squirm despairingly as he fixes his gaze on me once again. His hand wraps around my throat, forcing me to stare into his dilated pupils.
“Cry out for her,” he jeers. “Beg her to make it stop.”
I know I shouldn’t. I know it will only hurt her. I know she can’t do anything, can’t save me now. But I can’t help it.
“Sparks, help me!” My shrieks carry into the next room. I’m vaguely aware of her wails in response, but I’m more focused on the weapon diving back toward me. “Please Sparks, I can’t―”
My cries are interrupted as the stun gun returns. My thoughts unravel, unable to form words, I just scream. Shrill. Bloodcurdling. Agonizing. Screams.
With a puff of smoke, the stun gun surges, burning my arm as a bright flash lights up the room. As quickly as the surge came, it was gone, and when it went, so did the pain. My head sags as Chadwick hits the stun gun with his palm.
“Why won’t you work?” He curses. His men take a step away from the far room, connecting the dots. The mystery man only chuckles. Frustrated, Chadwick throws the stun gun to the floor.
“Take her back,” he seethes. “We’re done for today.”
The men unlock my cuffs, dragging me back to my crate. I don’t struggle. I can’t. I don’t bother to catch myself as they toss me into the box, allowing the cool metal to soothe my aching wounds. Sparks calls to me from across the way, but I can’t find the air to respond.
The slat in my door opens, and a bread roll, a hunk of jerky, and a spoiled slice of watermelon fall to the floor. I weakly crawl over, sucking the water from the fruit. It does little to soothe my parched lips. The stale bread scratches my throat as I force myself to swallow.
“Astrid, please,” Sparks cries. “Just say something so I know you’re alive. Please.”
“I’m here.” I worry that my hoarse whisper wasn’t heard, but then I hear her relieved sobs.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have shocked them. This is all my fault.”
“They were looking for a reason.” I try to be rational. I try to be strong. “He would have hurt one of us either way.”
“Astrid, you can’t give up,” she pleads. “No matter what, okay? You have to keep fighting. Promise me you won’t let them break you.”
I curl myself into a tight ball. Would she be ashamed to find that cracks already line my psyche? I’m not strong like she is. I’m not cold, or tough, or brazen. I’m small, and weak, and quiet. I can’t do this.
As if she could hear my inner thoughts, Sparks whispers sweet nothings through the air. Her encouragement only deepens the rift in my soul. She’s all I have, but I’m not enough to help her.
I knock three times on the wall. I love you. Three knocks echo back. I love you too.