arcade

xii

The telephone's ring echoed throughout the basement.

Finney Blake sat there, on the dirty mattress, with furrowed eyebrows. He was getting weaker by the minute. Days had blurred together into a jumbled mess, his lips were chapped, and his bones were starting to show.

He couldn't remember the last time he was given a decent meal.

Unfortunately, after another failed escape, the black phone's ring was relentless. It rang three times before Finney's patience ran thin. He was a mixture of rage and defeat.

"God dammit!" He groaned as he gave in, holding the phone to his ear. All he heard was static, fueling his anger. "What? You gonna say something?"

Static.

"Do you even know who you are?"

"What the shit kind of question is that?"

The voice was angry. Familiar, but that didn't matter. Finney flinched at the unexpected tone, so unlike the other boys who wished to help him.

"Do you even know who you are?" The voice asked.

"I'm Finney Blake." Finney answered, glancing around the room.

"Well nice to fucking meet you, Finney Blake. Right here, this is it." The voice on the phone yelled.

"This is what?"

"The horrifying end to your pathetic little life." Then, it clicked. Finney recognized this voice.

"Holy shit. You're Vance Hopper." Finney acknowledged. "I remember you. You used to scare me."

Unbeknownst to him, Vance's spirit sat behind him. Vance scoffed at the boy. He was almost jealous that Finney had the chance to escape that he never did. He didn't know how he could talk to the boy, but it didn't matter.

"Trust me, Finney Blake. If you knew what was coming, you'd be fucking terrified!" Vance stood up, kicking the wall as a vent for his rage. "Today's the day, motherfucker!"

Finney winced as he pulled the phone away from his ear. He got flashbacks of watching Vance yell at kids at the convenience store whenever they got in his way.

Vance turned around, examining the kid. He was weak, there was no doubt about it. Vance wanted to curse the world for giving a weak kid like him the chance to live, unlike him and the others. None of that mattered now, he reminded himself. Vance couldn't change the past.

He took a deep breath in, bringing his wrist up to his mouth. He quickly kissed the silver bracelet; the one thing the Grabber was never able to take from him.

Vance was littered with bruises, far worse than anything his father could have done. His nose was split with dried blood decorating his face. His hair was a knotted mess, and his clothes were covered in dirt and blood. The Grabber had traumatized and performed cruel, unimaginable things on him.

He scanned the boy once more. He was going to make sure that asshole got what he deserved. For what he did to Vance and the other kids. For the fact that he took Vance away from his girl.

"Have you tried stacking the carpets to reach the window?" Vance asked, doing his best to be patient with Finney.

"I've tried everything."

"No, not everything." Vance sighed. "When the Grabber saw what I had done, that was it. He took his time with me too." Vance swallowed down the lump in his throat as the memories began resurfacing.

"What did you do?"

"I'm getting to that, cunt wad! Or do you have some other important shit you have to do right now?" Vance mentally cursed whatever being had placed him in a position where he'd have to communicate with an idiot.