Behind the Mask

(3) Can You Repeat That?

3
Can You Repeat That?


“Let go of me you meathead.” I howl while trying to pry at Stayton’s fingers for the umpteenth time. Though it’s almost as if this man was a fricken vice in a past life. He just won’t let go.

I try to ignore the panic and fear in the back of my mind as we get closer to my guest house. Though a small piece of me is starting to think that maybe they’re telling the truth and don’t actually want to hurt me. After all, if they did, wouldn’t they have done something already?

Biting my bottom lip, I wonder if maybe I should hear them out.

No. Nope. No, no. Don’t be stupid, Bethany. The minute you let them talk to you is the minute they turn into goddamn Jigsaw. Just because they seem friendly doesn’t mean they are.

My inner voice has a valid point.

“Let me go!” I yell again.

Stayton doesn’t say a thing. He just continues to pull me back towards the house. Exhaustion starts to weigh me down and I stop tugging my arm. Painfully, I decide to just let him take me back to the house. I can figure out another way to escape when we get there. Right now I need to reserve what small amount of energy I have left.

We walk in silence; the crunch of snow beneath our boots the only sound. It doesn’t take long for the house to loom in front of us. At this time of night it almost looks foreboding. It’s outward appearance isn’t any better than the inside. Mismatched panels of wood make up the exterior walls; making it almost look like a jigsaw puzzle gone wrong. All the windows are caked in mud and snow. It looks like something that has been abandoned for decades. 

Kent is standing on the deck, his arms crossed over his chest. Stayton and I come to a stop in front of him and I swallow back my fear.

“Well, I’m here.” I say defiantly.

Stayton snorts beside me. “You say it like it was your choice.”

Before I can say anything Kent interrupts, “Don’t run off like that again.”

I blink. If I didn’t know any better I would say he was legitimately concerned about me. Though that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I open my mouth to answer but don’t know what to say. What type of kidnappers are these people?

I just stare at Kent, wondering if maybe he has a screw loose and thinks I’m a long lost sibling of his or something. I hope not. The crazy ones are always the most terrifying.

Kent seems to realize I’m not going to say anything. He nods curtly at Stayton then turns on his heel and walks into the house. Stayton nudges me forward, “Alright. Follow him.”

I nod once. The fear is starting to climb up my spine again, despite my attempts at keeping it away. Digging my nails into my palms, I step into the house. Stayton closes the door behind us.

The house is small with a open concept. The kitchen and living room make up all of the main floor. A loud floral yellow wallpaper covers the walls; though some spots are peeling back from water damage. There are multiple holes in the walls, though a couple I’ve covered with pictures and the floor is just sheets of plywood. Though I know that some parts are rotted right through.

Two small couches and a single glass coffee table make up the furniture and—and there are two more guys sitting on one of the couches. I freeze in place. There’s four of them?

“Sit down.” Stayton demands while pushing me down onto the couch.

I land very ungracefully and glare up at him. “You don’t have to be so damn pushy.”