Working the Case

24

𖤍𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚗𖤍

I've never really thought about death before.

There was a short while where I went kind of crazy thinking about it, but that passed after a few months. It'd been right after my mom died. I couldn't help but question what I thought I already knew. Where did she go? Where is she now?

I still don't have an answer. I forced myself not to think about those questions anymore, aware that I will never have an answer until it's too late.

I guess I should rephrase then.

I've never thought about my own death. Never felt the need to, I guess. I sort of just figured that it wouldn't matter. I'd be dead.

It is now something I should probably start thinking about though. What, with the right side of my head pounding along with my heartbeat and the new shallow cuts and bruises scattered about my body.

I think I'm bleeding through my t-shirt on one part of my abdomen. My favorite t-shirt.

I don't know what Will's issue is with Spider-Man but I'm glad I learned about it now rather than later. Our friendship would've died even if he wasn't trying to kill me right now.

Speaking of Will and trying to kill me, he's doing a terrible job at it. He paces too damn much. Pauses too.

He's not even using his knife as much as I thought he would. I thought he was going to stab me, but he's sort of just slashed skin open and called it a day.

It's like he wants to kill me but is internally battling with the tiny part of him that doesn't want to kill me.

So, every time he hurts me, he steps away to huff and puff as he paces about the cabin.

Worst part is, I can't even tell if I'm annoyed by this or not. On one hand, it's buying more time for Evie and her team to find me alive.

On the other, he's wasting my damn time. I've decided that I'm okay with going now, and he's just drawing out the process.

I'm in pain and I'm ready for it to stop. But I don't think that's going to come any time soon. My eyes are unbelievably heavy and I'm tempted to shut my eyes and let it all go.

Like Elsa. Except more morbid.

I tilt my head back softly against the wall behind me. "Will," I call. "You gotta let me go." I urge. "My ribs hurt. It feels like something's wrong."

Will looks over at me. And for a split second, I see his concern. His remorse.

He shakes his head and looks away from me. "No." He grounds out.

"I could die here, Will."

"You're supposed to!" Will snaps, spinning sharply to face me again.

I shake my head, looking at him lazily through my half-lidded eyes. Almost like how I was trying to look at him under my blindfold.

"You don't want me to die." I argue. "We're brothers. You don't want me gone." I try calling his bluff. It's my last option.

"God—Stop saying that!" Will groans and reaches up to drag his hands through his hair.

"Saying what?" I coax. "To let me go?"

"That we're brothers." Will scowls. "We're not brothers, Finn."

I start to smile at that. "Will, you spent most of our childhood at my house." I remind. We're not blood brothers, but the kind of brothers you become when you're friends long enough.

"So?" Will sneers, way more angry about this than I've ever seen him. He's never even made a sour face or an annoyed sound when I've used this word.

I've used it for years. And so has he.

"What, you don't want to hear it while you're trying to kill me?" I assume with a lazy smile.

Will glances at me. His eyes slowly begin to narrow the longer he stares. "Don't look at me like that." He scolds.

I stare at him the exact way he's telling me not to. I don't know what to change.

"Like what?"

"Like that." Will's face scrunches, almost in disgust.

"I'm tired, you jackass." I dryly tell him. "I haven't slept in ages. This is my I'm tired face. I cannot change it."

Will's jaw clenches tightly. He scoffs quietly as he shakes his head and resumes his pacing.

I let out a heavy breath. "Come on, man." I try. "We've been sitting here for hours. About to be days." I glance towards the window on the right side of the cabin.

The sun is starting to go down again. I've almost been here for two days.

I hoped Evie would find me a little faster than this, but that's fine. I guess I could just wait for her.

It's not like I'm going to be killed soon or anything.

I'm not sure if I'll still be...you know, here when she finds me, but I do hope I am. Not only because I want to see her again, but I also have something to give her.

I found something the last time I was outside the inn. Two things. Rocks. One shaped like a heart, the other shaped like Texas.

I've been debating on which one to show her and offer her. The one shaped like a heart sounds romantic and all, but she'd enjoy the Texas shaped one more.

Without being here to tell her about it, she'll never know about the rocks hidden away in my desk. That would suck.

I need to get out of here.

"Will, I'm getting hungry." I complain.

"There's no food."

"So, go get some."

Will sends me a warning glare. "No."

I huff. "Will, how am I supposed to write you a confession if I'm too weak to lift the damn pen?" I question. Will only shakes his head at me. "Look, it's been, like, two days. The agents haven't found us yet."

"They might."

"How?" I almost laugh. "We never told anyone about this place, remember?" I remind. "No one is going to find us because no one knows this place even exists."

Will falters at that. I resist the urge to let my own reasoning get to me.

Evie and her team are the smartest people I've ever met—Minus Agent Beckett. They'll find a way.

Will huffs when his own stomach makes a noise, angry with him too. I'm not all that hungry, to be honest.

I think the pain and the blood is kind of throwing me off.

"Do not move."

I stare back at him blankly. "Where the fuck am I going to go with my wrists bound to the fucking wall, Will?" I question.

Will only rolls his eyes at me as he starts towards the door. I watch him leave, silently surprised he's actually doing it.

I didn't expect him to actually go out to get food. I sort of just thought he'd either kill me or threaten to kill me and move on.

He's not a very good captor.