Trapped

Chapter Twelve

Sarah

I swear Joel has bipolar, he’s always hot (looking and acting) and cold with me. Oh, I don’t know. I’m not a doctor but he is frustrating and its infuriating to me. I don’t want to hate this situation and what it means but I do. I (almost) hate Joel and his (obvious) ignorance. Do I look like a puzzle solver? I don’t want to be one but he’s so annoying and intriguing. When we were kids, he was solved but now he’s just damn confusing.

I want to punch the wall, the air, just hit something. I hate this bed and room, they’re both bleak and oppressing.

Evan was a morning person and generally happier than I had ever been. We'd bicker over the fact he ate plain cereal during breakfast most days. Those were the best parts of my day. That's pathetic, isn't it? That my best moments were when my nephew and I argued.

He'd tell me not to let anyone get me down if he were here. He used to hoard chocolates in his jacket pocket and goad me into eating them on the days I starved myself. He never admitted it but I knew. I loved him more for that. But I never got to tell him. He probably doesn't even know. I hate myself for not appreciating him enough.

I wanted to hear his heinous country music again, yank his earphones out and mess up his hair before he went on dates one last time. I wanted to tease him for how short and scruffy it looked. He was like a little brother to me.

Michael would try to boss me about and get me to clean - and leave my -  bedroom. He used to shove notated music at me and tell me to memorise it because I would never see it again, it was really motivating. To this day I know every chord progression in all of those songs by heart.

He'd ask if I was okay incessantly and hug me like it was the last time. He'd never say goodbye, instead choosing to say farewell and I'd call him old. He'd act mock-offended and pretend his laughter was tears. I'd make a face and he'd laugh his head off. He'd always make dad jokes and I'd walk off mock-annoyed.

I miss music and the choices I used to have. I hate sitting in silence reading, waiting for the next meal. I feel like a caged animal. I want to choose my meals and eat chocolate and sweets again. I want Maoam and Wham sweets. I want to hear The Fear by Lily Allen. I want chilli food with fizzy juice. I want a choice.

I'll die hoping and silent. I'm over this extended stay in hell. I'm not gonna beg for my life, I'll day with dignity and a fucking smile. They can kill my body but they can fuck off if they think they can kill my smile.

Joel

Andrew has come to the cottage today to tell me the plan. It'll all be over soon. He'll tell me what to do and I'll do it.

'So, what are we going to do to her?' I ask.

'You're going to shoot her.' He pulls out a gun. 'You remember how to take the safety off, right?'

'No, I don't remember. I've not held a gun in a year. I've not held one since I killed our dog Zeus.' I feel sad just thinking about the German Shepherd Andrew made me shoot. He got some sick thrill from it but it just gave me nightmares.

'Okay, I'll show you. But Joel, you should know this by now. I've been teaching you for years.' His voice rises in annoyance. He pushes a small lever down and the gun is ready to kill. I gulp down a lump.

'So, when do you want me to do it?'

'That's up to you.' He says pointedly. 'You will do it, right?' He asks in a faux calm tone as he grabs me by my T-shirt. I nod whilst looking at the ground. He smiles warmly at me.

'I guess this is an early birthday present then, huh?' I laugh against the lump in my throat.

He gave a breathy laugh and let go of my shirt. 'Yeah, that's just what it is.' I follow him to the foyer as my hand trembles at the weight of the gun. It weights a tonne. The groves were cold and hard in my sweaty palm. It felt alien to me. The last time I touched this gun, I had killed my dog.

I walked down to the basement with Sarah's book and food. I barely acknowledged her and left like I was running a marathon. I went to the bathroom as sickness overcame me and let out what felt like three days worth of meals. I was empty. My knees felt weak. My eyes avoided the mirror. I am merely a shadow on the wall, a silhouette of a sad person.

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'You heard about Joanna, didn't you?' Andrew asked me quietly.

'Yeah.' I said sadly. Jai had died a few months ago but it was hitting me again. The sadness of these past seven years.

'She has gotten away with too much. We have to do something.'

'What?' I ask, ignoring my unease.

'She has a daughter.' Oh God. No. Not that. Anyone but her. His expression is one of hunger. He is pure evil.

'There's no point, it was her mother that did it.' I say diplomatically like I don't care of the answer.

'You friends would want to be avenged.' No, they wouldn't. My friends were pure and kind. Not callous and cold blooded. I stand up to leave but he grabs me by my neck.

'Don't be a coward. You're a man. Step the fuck up.' He says in a deceptively calm voice.

'I'm not a coward. You're just a fucking psycho. Leave her the fuck alone. Her mother tried to kill her too. She doesn't deserve anyone of this.'

His grip on my throat tightens as he takes me to the basement. I flail as he flings me into a chair. Before I think to move, he ties my hands down. He grabs a machine that I've never seen before. I see the word amps and scream louder than I ever have before. He tapes my mouth closed. Then punches me in the jaw.

'You'll fucking regret that. You piece of shit. I'll show you a fucking psycho.' His smile is gleaming and his eyes are psychotic. Stupid prick.

He turns the machine up to 150 amps and my eyes pinch themselves closed. The bastards going to fucking kill me. He turns the machine off.

'Oh, don't you worry. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to do this until you agree to kill the ugly tart yourself.' That's never going to happen. My dog Zeus was bad enough. I will never consider killing anything again. I'll die before I do that. Fuck him. He won't win.

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