Chapter 4 #3
Somehow, that sends a whoosh of relief from my lungs, as if I expected one of the men who brought us here to be hiding in the cell, waiting for me to be stupid enough to open it.
Though with the way my night—day?—is going, I can’t exactly write off the possibility.
I close it, though I don’t push the latch shut, out of fear of it making noise. At some point I’m going to have to accept that the men will realize I’ve escaped. I can only hope that I have a plan by then.
When I reach the middle door, my hand goes for the handle, only to jerk back when I hear a soft, thready whine from inside. Something scratches on the door, sounding almost like fingernails, and I hesitate.
Suddenly, I really don’t want to open this door.
“T-Tyler?” I call softly, half expecting some kind of answer. But all I get is the scritch-scritch of something scraping the door, and that high whine again.
If someone is inside, they need help. Desperately. If it’s Tyler, I don’t know why he would sound like that, unless he’s—
No. Speculating isn’t the answer; I’ll just work myself into a panic. I’m already close enough to freaking out and not being able to function that I need to do my best to hold on to my last thread of composure.
I pull the door open just a couple inches, like I did the first time, only for it to be shoved outward by whatever’s making that noise. I gasp in panic, and when my hands come up to shield myself, the knife falls to the floor.
Stupid. I’m so stupid, and if I die from this—
A wet tongue licks my face, and the whining from before comes again, this time without the door muffling it. Paws brace against my chest, pushing me back almost enough that I stumble, before I open my eyes enough to see my strange assailant.
“Pearl?!” I gasp, eyes going wide. The dog’s thick, whip-like tail wags, and she drops to the concrete floor, her nails making soft tap-tap noises as she dances back and forth. “Holy shit. Why were you…?”
Why would anyone have a dog locked down here?
When I take a second to look closer, I find that she’s got a multitude of small, mostly superficial wounds, though her left ear is cut in a deep V like someone caught it with a blade.
Not that Pearl seems to even notice. She shakes her whole body and leans into me as I pick up the knife, pushing her wet and warm tongue against my hand.
God, I want to cry. But I remind myself this isn’t a fantasy movie where my newfound animal companion will save the day. Not only that, I doubt she’ll stick around long.
“Hey!” In surprise, I watch her go to the last door, ducking to snuffle at it before turning to me with a whine and a very clear look of come hither in her eyes.
But quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to open any more doors in this awful place…
though I’m not sure what other choice I really have.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady whatever nerves I have that haven’t been frayed to shreds, I walk toward her across the concrete floor, trying to keep my eyes off of the rusty stains.
“I am giving you a lot of trust here, Pearl,” I whisper. “I really hope you know what you’re doing. Fuck…” As the dog watches with an expectant look in her dark brown eyes, I grab the door and pull it open, once more trying hard not to make any unnecessary noise.
“Oh fuck!” I have to clap my hand to my mouth to stop myself from vomiting the moment I see what’s inside; though Pearl walks in confidently, like she knew all along what I’d find.
Tyler.
Poor, fucking Tyler. I never really liked him, not one bit, but even he didn’t deserve this.
The man’s body is sprawled in the middle of the room, not even propped up against a wall.
If I had to guess, he was mostly dead when he was thrown in here like garbage, and hadn’t had the strength to go anywhere.
Though it probably would’ve been hard to go anywhere when he’s missing one leg up to a jagged stump of his thigh, and the other—
“Fuck,” I hiss again, looking away from exposed bone. My stomach flips, and this time, I can’t help it. I turn away from him and retch, heaving as quietly as I can. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone filleted his leg, like they carved all of the meat from it before putting him here.
A low rasping sound catches my attention and I look up…only to heave again when I catch sight of Pearl licking at the still-wet blood on the concrete floor. I almost call her back, or try, before I stop myself.
What’s the point?
Tyler clearly can’t feel anything anymore, thankfully.
From the corner of my eye I can see there were more pieces cut off of him, like a hand, but I refuse to look too closely.
I don’t need to, even though my morbid curiosity tries to convince me otherwise.
But there’s nothing I can do for him, not anymore. And honestly?
Death was probably the kindest outcome for him after what was done to him.
Taking deep, shuddering breaths, I straighten without looking back at him. Somehow, I don’t feel like crying. Worse, I feel empty. Hollowed out, with only bitter fear that tastes like bile left to fill the void in my stomach.
“Come on, Pearl,” I whisper finally, relieved when the dog leaves him without more than a few more laps of blood. Given that she’s skinny and clearly underfed, I suppose I should be grateful she didn’t try to steal his other leg, or what’s left of it.
After closing the door to block the view of Tyler’s body, I glance back to the heavy door where the stairs are, noticing for the first time the complicated looking lock that sits forebodingly above the latch.
Fuck. That’s going to be a real problem.
My hand finds Pearl’s ruff as she leans against me, and somehow, her weight on my leg is enough to make me feel a little bit better.
At the very least, it gives me the stability to walk back to where Scotty’s still bound to the table.
“Hey, Scotty, I’m sorry.” I still have no idea how I’m going to get him free. “I found Tyler, but—” My words fail as I lay eyes on him, and something in me sinks.
He’s gone too.
His one remaining eye is staring upward, tears still glistening, and the bleeding from what remains of his arm and his eye socket have trickled to almost nothing. “Scotty?” I breathe, not sure what I’m hoping for.
I know he must have been in so much pain.
Maybe death was the better option for him, too.
Wiping at my face, I stop only long enough to check for a pulse, fingers slipping in his blood. I don’t know exactly what I’d do if I found one, but when I don’t, it’s almost a relief. He’s gone, and no longer in the kind of pain he was suffering in since before I was able to get free.
“Sorry, Scotty,” I whisper. “I really wanted to help you.”
And I really don’t want to be alone.
I don’t say the second, selfish part out loud.
Even thinking it makes me feel guilty. Instead, I step away, leaving him there, strapped to the table like a half-butchered animal.
The comparison makes my skin Hilll, and I turn away from him, unable to keep looking now that I have such a dreadful mental image.
“Okay. Okay.” I reach up to run my fingers through my hair, probably smearing blood on my forehead and through the strands without really caring.
“Ariana has to be here somewhere. Right?” I look at Pearl, who doesn’t answer.
But this time, I don’t hesitate. I doubt I have much time left before the man comes back, and I need a better plan than the one I have.
Which, for the moment, consists of don’t cry and find Ariana.
The third wall of cells remains un-searched, and I cross my fingers that she’s in one of them, strung up like I was. Surely I hadn’t been knocked out long enough for her to already be—
Swallowing the thought and bile, I edge around the table Scotty is strapped to and trip up the three stairs to that side of the basement.
Part of me, the distant part that’s clearly in shock, wonders where we are.
It isn’t a house. There’s no way this place isn’t industrial, with a basement this large and set up like it is.
Even if it is in disrepair and clearly hasn’t seen a cleaning product in decades.
This time, I don’t let myself hesitate or give myself the time to be cautious, when I know I’m on the clock. I grab the handle of the first door, jerking it open, and glance inside, expecting to find old stains and not much else.
“Ariana!” I gasp, when I see her slumped on the floor, leaning against the back wall.
“Oh fuck, Ariana! Thank fuck I found you. Come on, get up. We have to go.” Quickly, I step into the room, leaving the door open, intent on helping my friend so we can get the hell out of here and leave this nightmare behind.