Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me

Chapter 4

Greg woke with a start, sitting up quickly. He groan at the sudden movement, feeling lightheaded. He cracked open his eyes slightly, thankful for the lights not being on. The only light was from a crack under the only door in the room, letting him see the small sink and bed he was laying on. Greg looked down. He wasn't tied to anything, but his ankles were tied together.

Thankfully, whomever had took him had left a first aid kit for him at the end of the bed, and his hands untied to use it. He also noticed a small makeup mirror lying beside it. He picked it up, the light providing just enough light for him to see the dried blood caked on the left side of his head. He sighed, his head pounding. As he opened the first aid kit, but before he could even start finding out what was inside, a flashing light caught his eye.

A camera! Greg thought, a little excitement bubbling inside his stomach. Maybe his friends could see him? But quickly he squashed that hope, knowing that it was likely this was how the man who took him was watching him.

    Greg turned back to the box. He lifted out a small roll of gauze, a half-used tube of burn ointment, and a small bottle of water. Greg would've normally chuckled at the tampons lying at the bottom of the box, but not now. He remembered Julie and him joking about how anyone could use tampons to stop blood, one of them being stab wounds or bullet holes. He silently prayed that he wouldn't have to use them for any reason--along with any of the other supplies.

    He managed to hop his way over to the sink and putting his head down in, not hurting as much as he had expected. Greg pulled off his shirt to wash off the dried blood, careful not to open the wound back up again. Once he was done, he hopped back to the bed, laying his shirt out to dry. Greg sighed again, looking at the camera. He was already tired from that, which worried him that he wouldn't be able to fight off his attacker the next time he came in the room.

    "Knock knock~" someone sing-songed outside his room. Then, the door opened, revealing a tall man in a red t-shirt and washed out jeans. On his feet were just plain black tennis shoes. Greg noticed that he was really quite handsome and gulped at the fact that he was just another generic Las Vegas inhabitant. There was no way this was the same guy who had kidnapped him.

    "Hey there, buddy," the man said, moving the kit a little before sitting down next to Greg. "I brought you something." The man brought out a small grocery bag, handing it to Greg. "I'm truly sorry about this," he whispered to Greg, and Greg saw that the camera couldn't see the man's face. Almost like he was . . . hiding.

    Greg was surprised when the man turned to look at the camera briefly before turning to the sink, which was covered in blood. Greg wasn't exactly careful when he washed out his hair.

    "Oh my," the man said. He quickly rushed over to the sink, trying to use the water to get everything down the drain quickly. "Is this all yours?" He turned to look at Greg.

    Greg only lowered his head, afraid of what the man's reaction was going to be. His heart was racing in his chest.

    "I'm so sorry," the man said. Greg looked between the camera and the strange man, hoping there wasn't an audio feed that the man could listen to. The man seemed to understand Greg instantly. "He can't hear us, don't worry."

    There was a slight, awkward pause.

    "My name's Alex." Greg looked up at him, nodding slightly in understanding. Why was the man telling him this? Was it a trick? A torture tactic? A way to get Greg's guard down before . . . whatever?

    "What's yours?" Alex asked.

    Greg gulped. "Greg," he whispered.

    "Greg." Alex seemed to be trying out the name in his mouth, like he'd never heard the name before. Greg only stared down at his hands, hoping his friends were coming.

    "Did he bring you here?" Alex asked, sitting on his knees on the ground in front of Greg. Greg simply pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to be as little as possible. He took a deep breath before nodding slightly.

    Alex sighed, almost as if he were sad. This caught Greg off guard.

    "He brought me here too, you know."

    Greg's head snapped up, sending a sharp pain through his skull. He winced. "Really?" He whispered.

    Alex nodded. "About five years ago, I lived in Los Angeles with my little sister. Our parents were killed in a car accident. I was seventeen, my sister was only fifteen. I immediately got myself a job and was paying the rent of the apartment we lived in and managed to keep myself and her from going into foster care. Then, when I turned eighteen, my sister started driving. One night, she was out having fun with her friends when a car came out of nowhere and-" Alex stopped as his voice cracked. Greg stared intently, almost knowing what came next. "And it hit her and one of her other friends. She was the only one who didn't make it." He wiped a tear away with his finger. "I had used all of my money for her funeral, and ended up getting kicked out of my apartment. One of my friends had offered for me to crash at his place until I could find a place of my own again and get back on my feet." Alex chuckled humorlessly. "Turns out that he just wanted to keep me forever."

    Greg sat, silent. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act.

    Alex smiled lightly at Greg. "I know you don't like it here, and that you think someone will come and find you. I did, too. Don't let it get to your head." Alex said, then bit his cheek. "At least, you won't be alone while you're here, right?"

    Greg nodded. "Thanks."

    Alex nodded back. "You seem nice. I wonder why he brought you here. All the others he's brought in he just . . . got rid of in a matter of days." Alex got up and walked to the door. "I hope he keeps you. Maybe he'll let me have a friend."

    Greg stared as Alex shut the door behind him, and he heard it lock. He bent over, praying to God that his friends would save him before anything bad happened.