Two Can Play At That Game

22.

"Wake up, bitch."

Brooklyn woke up with a start. Pain seared from her stomach. Lacie stood above her, the light shining through her strawberry blonde hair like a halo. But Lacie Harraway was the farthest thing from an angel. As Brooklyn shook the sleepiness off of herself, she realized that Lacie had just kicked her in the stomach. She also realized that she had taken her hands for granted. All she wanted to do was rub her eyes and push the hair from out of her face.

Lacie rubbed her hands together and turned around. Brooklyn peered from behind Lacie and saw roped tied around a leg. She quickly looked at where Serena had been and realized that she was no longer situated there.

With her heart hammering in her chest, she craned her neck as hard as she could to see if it was Serena tied.

Lacie, as if reading her mind, moved so Brooklyn could get a better view. But right as she saw the scene laid in front of her, she wished that Lacie would move back.

Serena was tied from both her legs and arms, spread out like she was a starfish. She was stripped down to her underwear. Bruises, scratches, and dried blood were stained along her whole body like tattooes. At the moment, Serena's head was rolled down to her chest, signalling that she was unconscious.

"What are you doing?" Brooklyn rasped, her chapped lips brushing against one another.

Lacie ambled to Serena and lifted her head up by grabbing her hair. She examined Serena's face for a moment and let her head drop back down. She bent down and reached into the dreaded duffel bag, pulling out a large bright red container. She uncapped the container-which looked more like a big bottle-and poured the clear contents all over Serena's body.

"Serena's time with me is done," Lacie simply replied, twisting the cap back onto the bottle. She turned to Brooklyn and gave her a grim look, as if what she was doing was really a shame. She dropped the red container over her shoulder and pulled out a lighter from her pocket.

Brooklyn gasped and realized that the liquid Lacie used to drench Serena's body was gasoline. "Lacie, stop. Please. Whatever you're going to do to her, do it to me instead. I deserve it, not Serena."

For just a second, Brooklyn thought Lacie was going to agree with her. But the moment of hesitation was gone and the murderous Lacie was back.

But that wasn't enough to deter Brooklyn. She poured every ounce of desperation, sorrow, and anger into her voice. It wasn't hard. She allowed all the feelings that had been trapped inside her body drip out of her mouth, laced through her words.

"You know that I deserve all this," she plead. "I was the one who killed Diana."

With a start, Brooklyn realized that she had never said those words aloud, despite the fact that they were true. She continued, getting stronger and more confident.

"I was the one who made Diana go over the fence. I was the one who hated her for no reason. Let me pay for my mistakes. I deserve it and you know that."

Lacie stared at Brooklyn, her expression unreadable. "You deserve a fate worse than death, Brooklyn. And I'm here to fulfill it for you."

Brooklyn narrowed her eyes in confusion. If Lacie wasn't planning on killing her, then what exactly was her plan?

Right as Lacie flicked the lighter on, the door burst open and Chris ran in holding Brooklyn's gun that Simon had given her what seemed like forever ago.

Lacie glowered at Chris, still keeping the flame on. It shone, steady and bright. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Chris stared back at Lacie with an unreadable expression. He held the gun straight at Lacie, his finger hovering over the trigger.