Immortal

Don't Fear The Reaper (Chapter 8)

All done. Now that I'd stopped the bleeding and closed up his wounds once more, I could tell for sure that he was looking a lot better already, surprisingly even after the stunt he managed to pull.

My angry stomach roared loudly. I looked around the now peaceful room. There's nothing else for me to do here. He only needs to be sedated again in a couple of hours. I seriously need some food badly.

I concluded that I could take the risk of venturing outside the room. So that's what I did. Would they let me head back to the house to pack?

I closed the door behind me and took quiet and careful steps towards the staircase. Before I could deem it safe to head down, I heard two pairs of footsteps on the bottom floor. I saw Selma and her husband slowly making their way towards the front door as I carefully backed away.

I heard Selma's nervous voice. "So, is it decided yet?"

"I spoke to him and exposed the whole situation. I requested assistance in any form he could provide. His response was, I'll see what I can do."

"That asshole," she spat.

"Saying he's been busy is an understatement. He's just one man and no one's giving him any slack. Not that he actually wants any." Both paused in front of the door. The blond softly placed a hand on Selma's cheek. "I'd like to have her around, regardless. She's quite bright and may prevent something like this while me and Dana are not around."

"I'll order a room to be prepared for her, then." 

Wait, are they talking about me? I closed my hands in fists as I leaned against the wall, hanging on to every word.

"Don't mix her up with the staff. I'd rather have them both locked up in there. In a situation like this one, the best is to find the easiest way to manage both liabilities." 

Liabilities? Me and... Me and him?... Well, yeah. Of course I'd be a liability to them. It seemed like I was, somehow, finding myself sinking deeper and deeper into this mess. Did this mean I was now their captive as well?

Selma sighed. I sensed she was annoyed. "Noted, honey."

"If all goes to hell, you know where my Glock is, right?" My fingernails dug into the skin on the palms of my hands as soon as he mentioned the gun.

"Of course. Aren't they to be kept alive though?"

"I don't care what you do to her, but make sure to shoot his legs if you can. Just don't you dare hesitate."

Hearing those words made my heart anxiously pound. I foolishly hadn't thought about how disposable I really was in this whole situation and how effortlessly they could end me whenever they decided to.

This was way bigger than me. Way bigger than that sedated stranger. We were just pawns.

I felt stupid when, all of a sudden, this realization hit me like a wave. I would obviously not be playing at Whitiker's. That was just the bait. It was never on the table.

Isn't this situation like quicksand? If I struggle, I will only sink faster, but won't I sink anyway, regardless of whether I stay compliant or not? 

Were they expecting me to believe they would simply let me go once that man was healthy enough to serve whatever purpose they had for him? I mean, they know I'm not dumb. So what were they thinking, really?

I went back inside the guest room to safely think.

Were they just expecting me to grab on to hope by the skin of my teeth and prolong my already doomed life by staying obedient until the very last moment? Yeah, I could see most people in my position would do just that.