The Incredible League of Goth Pizza Haters (RH)

Part 73

---Ricky---
It was nearly midnight by the time she dropped me and my busy mind back off at the house. I stepped out and no goodbyes were said, we just nodded to each other and she left.

I fed the cats. I tried to eat something. I threw it back up. I took another aspirin.

There was no sleeping. I wasn't even going to try.

I found myself back at the cabinet beneath the sink but before things could go too far I knew I had to leave. My head was spinning and I knew I shouldn't be driving with alcohol in my bloodstream but I had to get out. I had to get out of there.

I didn't pay all that much attention to where the road was taking me but at some point, I did see something I recognized. A Taco Bell. I pulled into the lot and parked the car. I wasn't hungry and even if I was I didn't think I'd be able to keep it down but that's not why I was there anyway.

The club is open.

Except, it wasn't.

It was completely silent. I knocked on the door but no one answered. What the fuck? I went over to peer into one of the windows. They'd all been blacked out with paint so you couldn't see inside. I walked around until I found the back of the building. It was a cloudy night, a forecast of rain, which was better than snow.

The door was locked, so were the windows. I was drunk and there were so many rocks lying about. The window practically shattered itself, and once I knocked out all the glass with a stick it was pretty easy to boost myself in.

The room was dark and empty, I think it was the lounge. My heart pounded as I stepped around furniture and quietly maneuvered my way through the silent building to where I guessed Philip's office door was.

It was locked and the solution was quite simple: go and retrieve the rock I used to bash in the window and use it to bash out the knob.

But I paused, hand on the handle.

What was I doing here? I came to talk to Philip, yeah but it was obvious no one was here. The lights to his office were off... And I'd broken an entering.

I let my hand fall to my side and then come up to rub my forehead. Christ, Rick.. What did you do..?

I tensed at the clicking sound behind me. I turned and felt terror spread throughout every inch of my body at the huge shadow of a man that loomed over me. And the gun in his hand.

I lowered myself to my knees, hands held in front of me.

"Please don't shoot," I said. His voice came out of the dark.

".. You want to know what's behind that door..?" When I did nothing he struck me over the head with the barrel and I keeled over, clutching my temples. He unlocked the door and grabbed me by my hood, shoving me inside. It was an office, cluttered with papers and bottles.

Fuck, I'm going to jail for this..

"Open that door." the man said, pointing with the weapon to a door set off to the side. I thought maybe it was a closet he was going to lock me in until the police arrived but when I opened it I only saw a dark passageway of stairs leading down.

He moved up behind me and pressed the firearm into my back. My legs moved without my brain telling them to as I began my shaky descent.

He flicked a light switch and illuminated the stairs, which led down to an empty concrete basement. There was a sink, a washer and dryer.. And dark stains on the floor. Smears of a deep brown that may have, at one point, been blood. I felt a chill.

"Are you going to call the police?" I asked. A stupid question, but I wasn't all there. And everything came to a pause.

"Give me your phone," he growled. I dug it out of my pocket and hesitantly handed it over.

He led me to a door on the other side of the room. I stepped to the side as he unlocked it before swinging it open to reveal nothing but darkness. He gestured for me to enter and I did, figuring I was right about him locking me up before calling nine-one-one. But then he turned on the light. And my stomach lurched.

There were two bodies lying on opposite sides of the room. The first one had a blanket thrown over its head, but you could still see the rest. The crimson stain on the lower part of the shirt, and the paleness of the hands.

The other was...

My brain didn't understand it at first. Even though the white hair was a dead giveaway.

The door closed and locked behind me and I tried to move even though my legs felt like stone.

"Via?"

And then it hit me. I stumbled forward and dropped to my knees beside her. She was on her side and looked to be wearing only a ratty old sweatshirt. Her skin looked pale and was cold but didn't hold the stiffness of death. She was alive.

I set to shaking her and calling out. Her eyes opened a little, but she didn't stir or say anything. She looked so delirious. We made eye contact before her eyes rolled back up in her head. A small sound escaped her mouth and I took notice of the bruise marks. They were everywhere; on her wrists and knees. Face. Arms.

Christ, what had happened? I held her hand between two of my own and rubbed her skin to try to warm it.

He wasn't going to call the police.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Panic began to set in and I banged on the door. Yelled for help. I gave him my phone, why did I do that? How the fuck could I have been so stupid?! I felt sick and threw up for the second time that night. Upon standing back up I rubbed a hand over my face, pushing my hair back and breathing deeply.

"Ricky?"