Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
Madelyn
TEN MINUTES BEFORE:
“I’m sorry I don’t have the strength to help you with the chains,” Amelia whispers. There is a small shift, followed by the sound of feet scooting against the floor, and then a thud. Despite struggling earlier, she seems calmer now.
She’s trying to get up, I can only assume. It’s too dark to know for sure. I flex my arms to get the chain to budge and fail miserably. “We will figure it out once Jackson gets in here.”
“You have a lot of faith in a man that seemingly is as nasty as his twin,” Amelia mutters, not sold on the idea that Jackson is the saving type. I can’t say I blame her. Jackson doesn’t keep people alive. I’ve been the only exception.
“Jamison hasn’t made it back in here, so the possibility of our escape seems high,” I reply. At first, we could hear Jackson’s voice and the old man's. Then unmistakable sounds of a full-blown fight. Apparently, that was enough for Jamison to change his plan.
Now it’s quiet. Too quiet. My heart races, battling the anxiety of the unknown.
What’s happening in there? Please let him be okay.
Not just for him, but for me. I can’t die here.
Not after finally being free of my stepfather.
And not after finding him. As stupid as it sounds, my mind just can’t change this deep feeling in my chest. The one that refuses to lose him.
Regardless of how we started, now it’s a matter of where it takes us.
It can’t be all for nothing. I refuse to believe it.
Jackson and Jamison’s muted voices penetrate the air for several minutes until a crash and scream break up the gone-bad conversation.
I want to yell out. Call to Jackson. Plead even.
Just so I can hear his voice. But I’m too scared.
I am too afraid that the wrong person will answer and shatter me.
Holding on to hope is the only thing getting me through, so I will continue to live in that delusion until the last moment.
Soon, the screaming escalates to a pain-dripping vocalization. One I can’t quite describe aside from the fact that it makes my stomach queasy and my heart on the verge of exploding.
“Smoke, shit,” Amelia says in a panicked voice. The doorknob jingles, and I brace myself for whoever is on the other side of the door. “Fuck, Madelyn. It’s no use. The door won’t budge.”
“That was you?” I whisper, swallowing down my panic. Tears build at the corner of my eyes while the smoke draws in from under the doorframe.
“It sure wasn’t one of them,” Amelia lets out a cough. “Maybe they are both dead.”
“No,” I reply, refusing to believe I’m going to go down like this.
Still, I can’t just sit here and not try to free myself.
“Think, Amelia. Think.” I attempt to get up and make it to my knees.
Pulling the chains on my wrists, I try to detach them from the floor.
“Did you ever see Jamison have any tools in here?”
“No, I don’t…”
“Ahh!” My muscles strain from the pulling. “Did he ever bash someone’s head in with something? Bolt cutters? Uh pipes? ANYTHING?”
Her feet thud across the floor. “He used something to cave in a man’s skull. Maybe…I can... find it,” Amelia’s voice sounds weak.
“Thank you,” I get out. My restraints refuse to move. Not even an inch. I fall back into myself, my face covered in both tears and sweat. My resolve cracks as well as my voice, “Jackson! Please don’t leave me!”
“I’m here, Little Fire,” Jackson’s words pierce right through my soul. He’s okay. I’m going to be okay.
Relief flows through me…until the gunshot rings out. Air deflates from my lungs, causing me to fail at forming words. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s almost like I’m the one who got hit with the bullet. My hands claw at my throat. Begging. Pleading for me to call out.
“Madelyn, I’ve got it!” Amelia declares. “The cutters!”
Thank god. I rattle the chains in an effort to let her know I heard her. All they do is cut my skin.
The smoke is getting thicker as it continues to push through all the holes and cracks in this place.
A dim red light flickers under the door, a sure sign we are losing time.
Fuck, where is he? I close my eyes and pray.
Not to god. I’m much too fucked up to ask him for a miracle.
Instead, I call out to the universe. To my mom, who promised she would always watch over me. Please. Mom. I need you.
As soon as the thought fades away, I open my eyes to the door being split in two. With a loud crash, the wood rips away from the wall to reveal the silhouette of a man. Red and orange light glow from behind him. With the door gone, the smoke has no barrier. It flows in, relentless.
My heart hammers so loudly against my chest that the effect makes my ears ring. I hold my breath as Jackson steps through the threshold. Ashy and bloody, but alive. There will never be a more beautiful sight.