20. TWENTY
TWENTY
Spinning. Everything is spinning. There’s this stinging pain in my neck, but I can’t bring myself to move a muscle. It’s so quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. My heavy eyelids slowly open to nothing but darkness in a room that definitely isn’t mine.
Grimy gray brick walls and a scratched up stone floor, although there’s a big carpet rolled down to try and hide it. There’s no windows, of course. But there’s a water heater and a washing machine, and some uneven wooden stairs…
A basement. I’m in a basement.
The smooth metal around my ankles becomes a lot more apparent when I try to move, and when my head darts down I find myself on a creaky little bed kept off the floor by unsteady poles. The sheets are clean, which is a good thing—I hope.
It’s not cold, though. I’m actually pretty warm, dressed up in some fuzzy white socks, my underwear, and an oversized red sweatshirt that I’ve never seen before.
Screaming for help seems pointless. If someone is waiting for me to wake up, they’re just gonna come down and do… whatever they’re gonna do if I shout. My arms are free, but the shackles on my ankles are literally bolted into the wall.
When I try to lean forward there’s this obnoxious jingling sound. My heart drops into my stomach, and one of my hands quickly shoots up to touch my neck. Something thin and leather-y, with a bell sitting near my Adam’s apple.
It wasn’t even that loud, but when the door to the basement opens and a tiny bit of yellow light spills into the room. The collar feels a lot tighter, and I can’t bring myself to speak at all.
“Duncan…? Are you awake?” An all too familiar voice calls, soft steps growing louder and louder. “I know… Y-You’re scared, right? It’s okay… It’s okay.”
Finn’s icy hold meets mine. He's still like that scared guy from the gas station, but there’s something more in his gaze now.
That timidness from before is gone, replaced by something darker that's focused solely on me.
The smile that usually makes me feel happy is crooked, with dry lips and a slight tilt to his head. Where are his glasses?
“Duncan?” He calls again while taking a step forward. I can’t just stare forever, but I don’t know what to do. I barely had enough fight in me to get up, and now I’m supposed to what? Escape? Save myself?
“F-Finn? Did you… Did you do this…?” The question hangs in the air for a moment, and I swear that his expression turns grim for a heartbeat.
“You stopped talking to me,” he says quietly. “I really wanted to see you. But… you didn’t reply to my texts, or my calls, or…”
I swallow. “I… I was busy. I was gonna come reply eventually—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not—”
“It’s fine.” His voice is calm despite the fact he’s gripping the hem of his navy blue shirt so tightly his knuckles are turning white. “I get it, okay? Things have been… hard. I know. I saw what you told your friend… on your phone.”
“You went through my texts?”
“I only wanted to know… why… Why you stopped…” He sounds so hurt that I almost feel bad for him, but the faint pain in my neck is a reminder that I should know better.
“Nobody else is like you. T-They’re not as sweet, they don’t stand up for me…
but you… You’re so special, Duncan. You get me. We’re friends. You said so yourself!”
All of this because I stood up for him? Because I was nice to him? That’s it? “It was just… Things have been hard, Finn. You can’t keep me here. That’s stupid, that’s—”
“Who says I can’t? Nothing about it is stupid.” His brow drops as he steps closer, malice dripping from that last word. “You like me—or at least you liked me. You… Y-You can like me again, I know it. I’m… I’ll take good care of you.”
“I’m not a f-fucking pet, Finn!” Even though I'm shouting my voice is a shaky mess, and the words almost don’t come out. “I don’t need you to take care of me!”
He’s standing directly in front of me, but his form feels so much bigger than when we hung out before. When he lifts a hand I expect him to hit me or something, but instead he caresses my cheek. The touch is too featherlight, too gentle.
“Don’t you? Your house is a mess. You haven’t gone to work… Your family doesn’t even w-want you anymore…” Finn hunches over to get a better look at my misery. “But I do. I want you more than a-anyone else, okay?”
I don’t know what to say. Does he not realize how psychotic he sounds?
Who is the man in front of me right now?
Because I know it’s not the sweet boy I’ve been getting to know, the sweet boy that I thought...
“That doesn’t… That’s not an excuse! You can’t!
You… you just can’t…” Scooting back on the bed, I hit the wall much sooner than I’d like.
He’s too close. I can’t breathe.
“You’re scared.” Finn pulls back, scanning every inch of my face. “I’m sorry. I know the needle hurt, but you wouldn’t… I had to do this. You were ignoring me. You… you hurt my feelings, Duncan.”
“I’m sorry…” I lie in a voice so sweet I almost believe it. “I wanted some time—some space—by myself.”
He sighs longingly while admiring me like I’m a million miles away. “You can have as much time as you need. Just call for me, and I’ll be there. I’ll take care of you.”
Finn points to some shoddy little camera he obviously got from propped up on a shelf with some sports stuff, aimed directly at the bed I’m on. “Are you hungry? Or maybe you want some water?”
“No.” I ignore how hollow my stomach feels. “I want to sleep. Can I please… sleep?” He’s not listening. He’s just staring at me with a psychotic glimmer in his eyes. “Finn!”
“Sorry,” his cheeks get rosy again. I thought it was cute before, but now it’s pissing me off. “I just… you… You're so cute in my s-sweatshirt. Always so cute…”
If I had any energy left I’d swing at the piece of shit. But I don’t. My body is heavy and I can barely keep myself awake. I don’t waste another breath on him, rolling onto my side to focus on the wall.
Every second is more akin to an hour, the only sound being his breathing. Can’t he just use the camera to be a weird ass stalker and get the hell out of here?
“You aren’t…” he pauses for a moment. “You’re not being yourself, Duncan. It took… a lot of effort, and time. I-I had to pick up extra shifts, and… I did it for you, you know?”
Responding would only make things worse. Shutting my eyes, I let myself go limp and do my best to slow down my breaths. I really hope he can’t hear how hard my heart is thumping in my chest.
When he begins walking away there’s a brief moment of respite, only for the steps to return shortly after.
Closer, and closer, and closer… until he delicately canvases a much thicker blanket over my “sleeping” form.
Of course he doesn’t leave it at that, though.
A hand finds its way to my head, thick fingers running through my bleached icy-blond hair.
“See you tomorrow, Duncan.”