The Catharsis

Chapter 33 - How To Disappear Completely

Basement

By Amethyst Turner

Cold cement floor

Firmly locked door

Ragged breath

Thoughts of death

Pitch black dark

Beating heart

Hurt and fear

All are here

XXX

Davey was not at all looking forward to this.

He thought of the chief's thick face, ripe with prejudice and narcissism. Ah, no I didn't follow the protocol, sir. Yeah, yep, I pretty much went directly against your orders. That is in fact what I'm saying. Uhuh, I did everything but spit on the rulebook and put it on your desk covered in my own shit, yes. By the way, our missing person case is now kidnapping. Have fun with that.

True to his now lawless self, Davey had already tried everything he could think of to find Amethyst himself -- but he had to admit, his attempts were a little half-hearted. He'd always been taught to be especially wary of kidnappers. They were the crazy ones, the ones with the chainsaws in their kitchens that they liked to bust out after they invited you in for tea. They looked like kind old grandmas and, oh, that man who works at the post office. But nooo.

Clark had led him first left, then right. Down Maplewood Avenue, then back up it. Right across the intersection on the post road at rush hour. Then he curled up on the island between the crosswalks and put his paws over his eyes, something Davey had only ever seen him do before they found a dead victim.

He couldn't think about that, though. The only way he could make things right Annie, he knew, was to get Aimee back. Besides, he kind of missed her, too. Clark certainly did. He wasn't eating much, which worried Davey. His dog was getting older. If the basset hound didn't get enough protein, who knew how much longer he'd last?

Clark sat at his side now, completely silent. Odd, to say the least. That dog was always panting or snoring or snapping at the heels of passerby. Who was this lifeless blob of flesh puddled under his chair?

He put his hand under the seat, stroking his dog's head. No response.

Wouldn't it be awkward, he thought to himself, if my fat-ass dog died under this tiny little chair, and we couldn't get him out? We'd have to take it apart . . . then he'd have chair-leg imprints on his flab.

But such thoughts could not distract him from reality for more than thirty seconds.

"Mr. Springs?" The chief's secretary called. "You can go in now. Make it quick, though, we've got meetings stacked to the roof today."

He kept himself from scowling at her. "Okay. Thanks." He gave a soft whistle for Clark, snapping his fingers. The hound gave no response but one slightly raised eyelid. He rolled his eyes. "Wish me luck, then."

Clark lifted a paw as if to salute: it's been nice knowing ya.

XXX

Amethyst still felt dirty, although she'd just been cleaned.

Her skin crawled with what felt like tiny bugs, every hair on her arms and neck standing up straight. She was back in the dark corner again, completely alone this time.