Shattered

•Twenty-One•

NOW

Jack sneezed as he pressed the barrel of the gun against my back. I held my hands out in front of me like he told me to as we walked slowly down the stairs. Once both our feet reached the first floor, he gripped me by the back of my neck and guided me towards the kitchen. Tom was curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace. I stared at him, willing him to move, to do anything. I exhaled sharply, noticing the rise and fall of his back as he breathed, relieved he was still alive.

Pushing me into the kitchen, Jack kept the gun pointed at me. He began to open the cabinet drawers, rifling through their contents. He found what he was looking for, lifting up a roll of duct tape, beaming.

"Perfect," he winked. "Here. Let's go tape up your boyfriend before he comes to."

I knelt in front of Tom and touched his face. He didn't stir under my touch and I knew I wouldn't be able to lift him to the couch like Jack had wanted me to.

Jack wagged the gun towards the other end of the couch and demanded me to sit. I stood and moved to the end of the couch, doing as he asked, wondering where the hell the police were. Keeping his eyes on me, he tucked the gun into the back of his pants and bent down to lift Tom.

Tom groaned as he was moved from the ground to the couch. He sat back and his head lolled to the side. Jack pulled his gun back out and motioned me over.

"Tape up his legs and hands. Hurry."

"Jack," I scoffed, "We've already called the police. They're on their way, they'll be here any minute."

Jack cocked his head to the side. "Sweetheart, I own the police," he chuckled. "You don't have to worry about a thing. It'll all work out. Now come on, let's go."

Cautiously, I stood and moved toward Tom, pulling out some of the tape. I knelt down and started with his legs. Making sure my back was to Jack, I tried to pinch the back of Tom's leg, to rouse him from his sleep, but he didn't even flinch. I stared at the knife wound in his side as I completed the taping, wrapping it around his legs five times.

"Good," Jack observed. "Now his wrists. Tightly."

"Jack," I turned back. "You don't need to do th—"

"Now, Chrissy!"

I huffed and did as he commanded, bounding Tom's hands by his wrists. When I tore the tape from the roll, Tom's eyes finally peered open.

I cupped his cheek and smiled, nearly crying with happiness that he was okay. He smiled back, then fully coming to, his eyes widened and he tried to jump up.

"Christine," his eyes darted between me and Jack. "Leave her alone," he scowled.

"Tape his mouth, Chrissy."

I stood and shook my head. "Jack, we're wasting time. Let's just leave. Let's just go and get out of here before the cops show up."

Jack considered what I was saying, blinking in disbelief. "Tape his mouth, now."

"You didn't have to kill Grace," I swallowed. I looked at Tom, terrified that he'd be next. Grace had been dismissed so easily without a thought. What would keep Jack from putting a bullet in Tom's head?

I ripped off a piece and bent over Tom, pressing it over his lips. Tom furrowed his brow and still tried to stand, even bound. The injury to his side prevented him from completing his task and he hissed, the pain unbearable.

"Stop moving, Tom," I told him. I turned back to Jack. "Now what. What's your big plan? They'll be here any moment. What are you even planning to say to them? What will you tell them when they find Grace upstairs with a hole in her head?!" My voice grew louder with each sentence.