Loser II || WlW

Forty

I hit my knees next to Chrissy's body, try to feel for a pulse, apply pressure to the wound, pump her chest like I've done to far too many bodies in my nineteen years of life.

"Please not again," I beg through clenched teeth but it's different this time. I want to convince myself it was incidental, but this wasn't an accident. Not really. It doesn't even qualify as self-defense. She didn't have a weapon. She wasn't trying to fight me.

I'm still pumping her chest when an orange glow fills the room, flicks across the walls. I move to my feet, squint through the window that faces the back of the property. Zachary's shaking the last drops from a gasoline canister into a fire that's stretching taller than him, flames licking at the lowest branches of the surrounding pine trees.

I have to find Brittany and Grace. With Ron and Chrissy gone, we have a fighting chance. Zachary and Roger have the advantage of having guns but it wouldn't be the first time I outsmarted Zachary with a weapon.

Pressing my palm against the wound in my shoulder, I jog out the back door and start toward the flames when a familiar voice calls out to me.

I freeze and spin around to face the voice.

"Jordan." My mother offers a faint smile and half-wave as a heavy arm clamps around my neck.

I struggle against the person, but from the ease at which he's restraining me, it must be Roger. I throw my elbow into his gut but he's ready for my attack this time. He doesn't flinch away. He slams something into the side of my neck. There's a sharp pinch where his fist connects under my jaw and before I can think to ask what's going on, my body slowly crumples under my own weight. It's dark, but I fight to keep my eyes open, fight to at least hear what's happening around me.

Roger lets me drop to the ground, but the pain in my shoulder is numbed by whatever he injected into my neck. I try to lift my head, but everything's heavier than it should be.

He wraps his meaty fingers around my ankle and drags me toward the fire, toward Zachary. My mom is walking casually on my other side and when I try to ask her what she's doing here, I realize I can't force the muscles in my face to work properly. Rocks and twigs are digging into my back, getting caught in my shirt as Roger continues toward the fire.

He drops me close enough to feel the warmth of the flames on my face. Brittany and Grace are tied up again, only a few feet from me. I want to reach out to Brittany but I can't pull feeling back into my arms yet.

She looks at me, her lips pull into a soft smile. "Hey, sexy."

I smile back. Or, at least, I try to smile back. I'm not sure the muscles in my face are cooperating yet.

"Hey, beautiful."

Grace scoffs. "This really isn't the time for flirting."

Brittany rolls her eyes. "Do you suggest we save the conversation for after Zachary kills us?"

Grace scoots so she's facing Brittany. "You know, you could at least try to maintain some positivity."

Brittany snaps back and Grace follows suit by bickering with her but I'm too focused on the way my mother embraces Zachary to hear what they're saying. Like she's hugging her son after an extended stay at college. Not like she's hugging the boy who framed her for murder and had her institutionalized for ten years. And certainly not like she's hugging the boy who's about to kill her daughter.

"Guys," I try but Grace and Brittany are so deep in their argument, they don't hear me. I wiggle my fingers, rotate my wrist. Feeling is slowly spreading through my arms. "Hey, guys," I try again. Still nothing. "Brittany," I snap.