21. TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-ONE
Whatever bad dream woke me up was probably better than my current reality. It must be night outside, since it’s even darker now. Aside from the bright green LED light of his stalker camera, it’s basically pitch black.
But that’s not a bad thing.
I can’t see what I’m doing, but my grip follows the chains up to the bolt in the wall. Tugging at them does nothing, no matter how hard I try. I don’t know how long I spend pulling at them aimlessly, but they don’t budge.
This is hopeless. It’s all so hopeless. I’m never getting out of here. He’s gonna snap and kill me, and I’ll just be a statistic—assuming I get a good ending. The bad ending is being trapped here for the rest of my life.
Even if I tried some crazy shit like breaking my ankle and pulling it out, that wouldn’t help. The other one would still be stuck. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What’s the answer?
I open my mouth to try and scream, but nothing audible comes out. This is really just a nightmare where I try my absolute hardest, but nothing good happens. Do I not want it enough? Why? Why won’t it work?
“Duncan?” I was so caught up in my head I didn’t hear him come in, standing there with one of those stupid bed trays full of food. “I made you b-breakfast…”
Without waiting for a response he comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, setting the tray down between us. When he was close before my heart raced in a different way. I thought we were good. I thought we were doing that whole slow-burn thing. So why this? Why would he do this?
“Here,” he scoops up a spoonful of yogurt and brings it to my lips even though I’m not a helpless little animal. “You need to eat. You’ll feel better—”
“I don’t fucking want it!” I shout, swatting the spoon away. It lands on the floor, loudly clattering around before finally shutting up. Finn blankly stares at it, before slowly turning back to me.
Why does his hurt expression make me feel so awful? “I… I…” He goes quiet. Only after a few beats pass does he take another smaller spoon and try again. “Please, Duncan…”
Something about the pathetic color of his voice makes me crumble enough to take the stupid bite. It’s yogurt, it’s not special. But his entire face lights up when I swallow it down, and for the faintest second I’m reminded of all the other times he’s looked at me with so much pure excitement.
“What are you gonna do to me?” I ask, watching as his expression goes still. “I mean… you’ve got me all chained up here with a c-collar. Doesn’t exactly inspire… confidence.”
Finn’s head tilts. “I’m… I’m gonna take care of you, and… stuff.”
What isn’t he saying? “And stuff?”
“You know… stuff,” he shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. Just eat.”
He tries to give me another spoonful, but this time I don’t give in so easily. I turn my head away so the spoon awkwardly hovers in front of my face. If he won’t play fair, I won’t either.
“You’re being… difficult. Why? W-What did I do wrong?” Nope. That’s not gonna work twice. He seems to realize that, too, since he pulls the spoon away and sits still for a moment. “Duncan…”
I expect another hastened apology, but instead he leans in. Finn doesn’t touch me, though. He grabs the tray and slams it down onto the floor, making a mess of food and dishes alike.
“F-Finn!” I shout, retreating back to the corner of the bed. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”
“Why won’t you eat?!” He shouts right back, bringing his fists up to his head. “Would you rather die!? I don’t understand, Duncan! I don’t…! I don’t… P-Please… please eat…”
He’s putting on a good performance, I’ll give him that. But I have to stand my ground. “I can’t eat it now. You ruined it all.”
“You’re gonna eat it,” Finn exhales sharply through his nose. “I’m not bringing you anything else.”
“I won’t.” Two simple words send him on a spiral. Finn isn’t even speaking anymore, hands planted firmly at his sides while his body doesn’t move an inch. “Hope you know how to get rid of a body.”
We just look at each other for a while, before he blinks slowly at me. “That’s not funny. I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Y-You’re making me out to be… bad. I’m not… I’m not bad…”
“Look at what you’ve done to me,” I challenge. “How are you not bad?”
Wrong move. Finn’s on top of me before I process it all, surprisingly strong arms shooting out on both sides of my head.
“I’m not bad.” He repeats, slower. “You know I’m not.
Y-You defended me for a reason, you came back…
for a reason… You—Fuck! Fuck! You liked me for a reason! We’re friends for a reason!”
Falling forward and desperately nudging his head against my neck like some kind of affection-starved dog, Finn whimpers. “Duncan… Please, Duncan… You know me… You do…”
“I don’t.” The truth is scary to admit. “I never thought… What you’ve done… I don’t know you, Finn. Not at all.”
Finn sniffles, wiping his teary eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
“Take it off,” I motion to the collar with my eyes. “If you’re really sorry.”
He seems to understand, reaching around and unlatching it. It falls to the floor with a light thud, the bell jingling softly. With a heavy sigh he sits up fully before climbing off of me.
Fishing something out of the pocket of his black sweatpants, he reaches over and fiddles with the metal behind me. A literal weight is lifted off of my ankle, but I can’t tell what he’s feeling since his attention shifts to the ground with shame.
He’s setting me free?
“I… it was wrong.” He finally admits, moving to stand near the bottom of the staircase. I swear he’s crying, but I don’t care all that much. I think it’s good that he feels bad, isn’t it? “I’m really sorry, Duncan. I-I’m so sorry.”
I only sit there like an idiot for a minute. Once the reality settles in I shoot up and race for the stairs. Each step up sends a pang through my entire body. I didn’t think it would end like this, I thought—
Both hands twist the shiny gold knob, but it doesn’t budge when I pull on it. The stupid thing makes a bunch of noise even though it won’t open. Why won’t it open? “It’s not… Finn, it isn’t…” Turning back, I find him still waiting there at the bottom—crying.
“I’m really sorry…” He wails as the metal baseball bat he's gripping becomes much more apparent. “I don’t want to, Duncan. I’m r-really…” he hiccups, “sorry…”
As he begins coming closer, it dawns on me that I should finally start screaming.