Scrubbing again. Ashton couldn't remember ever having to clean up blood before. Lately, he'd become an expert. He put pressure on the sponge, pressing it into the floor to get the stains off. He tossed it into the bucket next to him, wiping his forehead.
Huffing, he stared at the front door. Samuel had gone to work. How, he wasn't sure. He'd been totally out of it the night before. Now, he acted as if nothing happened with one very interesting difference. He hardly spoke. Ashton had accidentally dropped his fork at breakfast and instead of being met with his breakfast thrown at him, Samuel didn't even bother telling him to pick it up. It felt almost lonely. Sam walked around the house in a daze, staring at the picture frames on the wall. When asked why he didn't just put them away if he didn't want to look at them, he said it would be "disrespectful". Ashton figured they were pictures of his family.
He looked into the drawers of the kitchen, searching for super glue. Eventually, he found a half empty bottle, holding it tightly. Surely he wouldn't know he'd looked if he put them right back on the wall. He was sure Samuel wouldn't notice if he put the picture back quickly.
He picked a random picture, placing his fingers on the frame, pulling. It took a good tug, but he eventually ripped it from the wall, along with the paint. When he turned it around, he was granted with the sight of a very cute little girl with long black hair and bright blue eyes. Sadie. Ashton was positive. She looked a lot like Sam.
He laid the picture down gently, as if he were being careful with her memory. What had really happened to her? Was it just a tired accident like Officer Miller and Molly Withers had made everyone believe? Or was Samuel telling the truth? If it was a hallucination, would he even know the truth?
He took another picture off the wall. A young woman holding a new baby. She kissed the baby's little head. Ashton smiled. This was Leslie. She was pretty too. He laid this picture down just as tenderly.
Finally, he pulled the last one off the wall. When he looked at it, his heart hurt. It was Sam and Leslie on their wedding day. Two happy, smiling people who'd just become a happily married couple. Ashton didn't even recognize Samuel.
He looked to the front door. Freedom was just on the other side. Did Sam work far enough away that him getting close to the door wouldn't cause a problem if he was able to get out right away? He didn't even know for sure that the code was the same for both the front and back doors.
Sam needed help. Ashton would keep quiet about everything if he could help him. He wanted Sam to be happy again. He wanted to be the reason he healed. He wanted to make him better and hold him. He wanted to see Sam smile and be the reason for it.
But if the code failed...if he got too close to the door...he would be on camera trying. He could possibly wait until the camera was out of memory. But it would be obvious when Sam's alarm went off while the camera was off that he'd made an escape attempt.
"This is it then...I should try..."
He turned his face to the basement door. Down there were two bodies. If he fucked up too bad, there might be three. Of all the times they'd kissed, had sex, and slept next to each other, he still told Ashton on more than one occasion that he hated him and wanted him dead.
Ashton clenched his fists. He wiped his hands on his pants. He might be chained to the bed again. He might get beaten. He might never again see the sun.
But, one thing for sure was that eventually, someone would come for him. He'd now killed not only a police officer, but also a reporter. Someone was going to sniff out his trail. Someone would come. And most likely, more people would die before he was caught. He'd rot in prison if that happened. Ashton didn't want that. He wanted Sam to smile again.
He stared at the door. Samuel would still be at work for a few more hours. He could do it...
The hallway to the door seemed so long, but every inch he slid toward the door, it seemed like he went quickly, making him anxious. He got on the floor, crawling towards it. Before he got within ten feet, his body started shaking too hard for him to go further. A deep, looming sense of dread overcame him. He dropped his head to the floor, covering it with his hands.
This was so hard. He could just leave. But...he couldn't. He placed his hand in front of himself, closing his eyes. His arms took him down the hall. When he opened his eyes, his nose was just at the door. He'd passed the alarm. There was no going back now.
Shit.
What was the code? He'd forgotten! In his nervousness it had completely slipped his mind! His fingers quivered as he placed them on the keypad.
"Six...five...uhh..." He wracked his brain. This was the worst time to forget. He squeezed his eyes closed. Samuel would kill him. Samuel would kill him when he came home. "Six...five...eight, five!" He shouted, punching it in. Denied.
"No, wait! Six, five, five, eight!" He choked. Incredibly fearful now. Once the code was in, his mind went blank. The code box clicked...and the door opened. Ashton stared outside as the front door allowed sunlight to filter into the home.
The street in front of him was empty. On the other side of the road were a few houses, a coffee shop, and cars. His eyes were wide as he stepped hesitantly out. There was some sort of shop next door. He would get help there. He made his way, terrified and shivering, over to the shop. He opened the door, finding no one at the counter.
"Excuse me..." He called out. "I need help!" He said loudly. What would he do? He had no phone, money or car. If Samuel came to get him, he would have to fight. Would he believe that Ashton would keep quiet? That he wanted to help him?
The store was silent, empty, even. Ashton looked around nervously. There were glass cases lining a counter. Inside were slabs of various cut meats for sale. This was a butcher shop. Ashton suddenly grew extremely anxious.
"You're a bit far from the front door..." He heard a low voice call. He whipped around to the voice he knew all too well, his blood like ice.
"It was a pretty convincing performance. I almost thought you were falling in love with me. I'm deeply disappointed in you, Ashton. I thought you were better than this," he walked towards him, his feet slow and meticulous. Ashton stood frozen like a deer in headlights. When Samuel got closer, Ashton dropped to his knees. He was too afraid to try and run. His body refused to go. Samuel stopped, standing just in front of him.
Why? He was out...he had faced his fears. He had escaped. Why? Why didn't he even look at the name of the place he was going into? Why didn't he just keep running?
"Sam...please, please, I was going to help you...I want to help you. I wasn't going to leave you, I swear..." He wept. He reached up Samuel's legs, hugging his hips. He pressed his face into his belt.
"Don't embarrass yourself more, Ashton. You've shown me who you really are. I'm afraid you'll lose all your privileges," he growled, yanking Ashton up by his hair. The meaning behind those words struck Ashton like a bus. His body went into panic mode and he threw himself as hard as he could, pulling against his own hair.
"NO! NO, I WONT GO BACK THERE! PLEASE, SAM, DON'T, PLEASE!" He screamed. Samuel pulled him behind the counter and into a back room of the butcher shop. Ashton dropped to the floor, forcing Samuel to drag him. He unlocked and opened a green door, Ashton screaming and shouting as he was tossed back into the hallway. Ashton quickly got up, bolting for the front door. The moment he reached the box, he tried typing in the code before his face was slammed into the door, Samuel grabbing the back of his shirt and throwing him down the hallway. His head cracked on the floor.
Samuel's eyes were on fire. He glared at the pictures that had been pulled from the wall.
"You think this is funny, you little son of a bitch? This is all your fault, and you're still going to disrespect them like this?"
Ashton stood, his wobbly feet taking him to the laundry room. He would get out and start screaming. Maybe someone might hear. Maybe someone would care. But his legs couldn't move fast enough. His head was already spinning. Samuel grabbed him, throwing him to the ground again, straddling Ashton's hips. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his neck, constricting the life out of him. Ashton kicked and thrashed, bucking his hips and clawing at Samuel.
The man's crazed eyes were bloodthirsty and enraged. Ashton saw a black tunnel, his heart pounding loudly in his head. Before the blackness consumed his vision, Samuel's hands relented. He let go, sitting up slowly. Ashton gasped for breath, coughing and crying, his body quivering beneath his captor. Samuel leaned down, resting his forehead on Ashton. His face, once twisted in anger, now appeared deeply sorrowful.
"Why did you leave me again? You promised you wouldn't. You promised," he mumbled, standing up. Ashton coughed again, watching him move slowly down the hallway. He brushed his fingers against the handle of his axe resting against the wall.
He dragged it noisily over to the other man, stepping on his leg when he tried to wriggle away. Ashton desperately tried to get up, but his shoulders were held down. Samuel dropped the axe, pulling Ashton up for an embrace, his arms tight around him.
Samuel's voice caressed his ear as he whispered, his fingers gently combing through his hair.
"You broke your promise to me. You said you'd never leave, Ashton, why did you leave?" He asked. Ashton sucked in several shallow breaths, crushing their lips together in mad desperation.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Sam, please, please don't make me go back down there, please! I just wanted to help you!" He cried, clutching to him. Samuel sighed into his mouth, smoothing his hand up his back.
"You did something wrong. You need to accept your punishment, Ashton. Remember, it's important -"
"I know! I know it is, but please, anything but that. I don't want to go down there," he begged. He pressed his face into Samuel's chest, hoping the man would see reason, praying the side of him that was once a caring father and loving husband would come back to the surface and understand.
"Okay, I won't put you back down there. Since you're so adamant. I won't do that to you," he said softly. Ashton sniffed into him, crying softly.
"Thank you, Sam. Thank you. I'm so sorry. I promise, I'll never leave again," he choked, rubbing his face onto Samuel's shirt. The other man smiled sadly.
"No, you won't. I'll make sure of it," he said, his voice soft and tormented. Ashton's eyes widened as the axe was slid from around Samuel's back. He turned to the blunt side, raising it above his head.
"Just one leg should do. Unless you fight me. Stay still, or I'll have to do both. This is the only way, Ashton. You won't be able to run away again."
Ashton felt his body go into fight mode. The axe was held high, poised just above his right leg. He twisted his body, jerking Samuel off and bolting for the kitchen. Sam stood, following him slowly.
"That was stupid, Ashton. Now I have to break them both. You aren't fucking listening, now quit running away!" He shouted, swinging the axe into the lower cabinets. They smashed into splinters in his attempt to hit the young man. Ashton yelped in fright as he skidded across the floor into the living room. Samuel's axe swung wildly, breaking the arm of his sofa and completely destroying the TV.
Ashton narrowly escaped the axe, ducking and sliding into the laundry room. Samuel came crashing onto the room, slamming the weapon down onto the locked door, forcing it open. Ashton plowed into the room, finding a bed and quickly hiding under it. He could stay here until Samuel cooled off. He would stay here forever if he had to.
After several minutes, Ashton waited in the silence. Sam had not followed him into the room. Ashton shakily poked his head out from under the bed, pushing his body out from the tight space. The bed had pink sheets and a purple blanket. His daughter's? He stood, looking around the room.
Upon every inch of the wall was a photo with something written next to it. There were photos of Officer Miller and Molly Withers. But the pictures that covered most of the room were of Ashton himself. Pictures of him at the bar, pictures of him at school, on dates, walking down the street. There were quite a few photos of an old car he had owned the year before. His father had made him get rid of it.
Sam walked into the room empty handed. Ashton took several steps away as his captor picked up a doll from the bed, fixing its position.
"There's no point in being in this room anymore. Let's leave," he said firmly. He seemed incredibly uncomfortable. Ashton was still trying to breathe.
"Leave me alone. Don't come near me!" He panted, looking for a way out. Of coarse there wasn't one.
"Stop freaking out. Just get out of this room," Sam insisted. Ashton looked back to the wall, seeing another photo. It was a car. A car Ashton recognized. The vehicle was smashed into a tree, a branch sticking in through the windshield. The date was August 20 of the previous year. Pliato road. Ashton's heart stopped. That was the same day and place where...
"Samuel...this is your car, right? The one your family..." He couldn't say it.
Samuel sighed. He walked up to the picture.
"Yes," he said simply.
"And how did this happen? Someone hit you?" He asked. Sam nodded, pointing to the other car on the wall.
"Yes, this one hit me that night," he said. Ashton felt his heart hammer in his chest.
"Well, you see, that's where I get confused. That's my old car. I know because the bumper is painted black. I was told to get rid of this car on August 21 last year. The day after I got into an accident while drunk driving. My father said he'd cover for me and take care of the DUI. We even went to the police station the next day. He didn't let me in on the conversation he had with the police man, but I just thought it was something simple. In the back of my head, I always wondered if there was more to it. When I didn't fix my act after that day, my dad stopped contact with me. Tell me...was I the hit and run driver who..."
He couldn't finish it. He couldn't keep talking. When he looked to Sam's face, it was calm. The fury, craze, and sadness behind them, for a moment, disappeared. He looked... peaceful.
"Yes. You're the one who hit me. You hit my car, caused my accident. And then you left me."
YOU ARE READING
Replacement
HorreurAshton finds himself trapped in a strange basement with a man who seems to know more about him than he knows about himself. Escape is much easier said than done as this ruthless and frightening man unravels before him.
