The Billionaire Throuple

Andreas Santiago

As soon as Nemo set me down at the bottom of the steps, I started crawling on the ground toward the next room. With the light from above, I could make out a doorway, but now I can't see a damned thing. Nemo managed to trap us down here in complete darkness and now, I might never see light again.

In a way, it's a relief. The part I fear most about dying is closing my eyes to become nothing. Not being able to see the difference will make for a smoother transition.

I don't know what Sam is doing down here, but I know this is where I'll find him. Being in this dungeon terrifies me, not for myself or even Nemo, but for Sam. I'm afraid he won't be able to come back from the dark place my failing health has sent him to. I'm afraid I won't live long enough to apologize for selfishly taking advantage of his unconditional love instead of bowing out gracefully, so he can lead a happy life after me.

I feel myself slipping away each time my body lurches forward in the darkness, but the only thing I care about is seeing Sam before I die. I don't care about what he's done. I don't care about how he had to make sense of losing me when he's been the perfect lover. I will forgive everything and die taking the blame. I will fight until the end like I promised. I won't stop. I can't give in to sleep. I doubt I'll wake up again.

I have to reach him to remind him that I love him, that my death isn't his fault, that he can't feel guilty and that I will only be happy in death if he loves again. His love was the only light in my fucked up life of horrors. I need him to know that. He must know.

I lift my arm to edge forward again. It brushes up against cold steel. I lift it higher and extend my hand until it meets a ridged wall that gives way as my fingers press against it. I hear thuds and clanks as the wall topples over. The sound of metal rolling around on concrete is telling. Knocking over cans eases my mind. I can give this place a better name. It's a safe house, not a dungeon. I turn my body and slither to the end of the aisle of cans.

I see light peeking out from the door to the next room and breathe a sigh of relief. I still have a lot of crawling to do, but I'll do it, knowing Sam is the prize waiting for me. I'm not angry that he didn't answer my call. In fact, I'm glad he didn't. I had no idea Nemo was going to blindside him with crazy accusations.

Today isn't the time for that. Dealing with me is overwhelming enough. All that matters is that Sam didn't leave the manor, just like he promised. I'll be with him soon, so that's good enough for me. Until I die, I want to stare into those eyes that only shine blue for me. I want to leave him with a smile so bright that it burns as an afterglow whenever he closes them. I want to take in his crooked smile and 'willfully ignore all context for sake of posterity' as he would say. I love Sam and I'll love him and only him for as long as I exist.

I make it to the door, crawling on my belly. I push it, but it's far too heavy to move. I have to stand up to squeeze through. I'll do it. I swear I will. I'll catch my breath and force my body to stand one last time. I let my body fall limp, so I can relax while I take deep breath after deep breath exactly how Sam has always reminded me. He has taken control over every aspect of my life to keep me alive this long. I won't let him down.

I turn onto my back and lay motionless other than my heaving chest. I strain my ears to take in all the sounds around me. Hearing things will keep me tethered to consciousness. I hear a constant buzzing and rustling, frequent snaps and cracks, less frequent whispers and whimpering in between. There is somber breathing and sniffling as well. Both sound so familiar, but I'm certain I never heard either.

It is the tone that is familiar. The body my mind would have me believe they're from has never made these sounds. I want to call out to him, but I can't waste my voice on not being heard. I have to wait until the buzzing stops. I scoot my body up along the doorway until I'm sitting. I stop to listen while I rest, straining my ears to make words out of panicked whispers.