Lights (Scomiche)

Games

 

“Who’s this?”

He was thrown when a frightened woman answered.

“My name is Scott. Where is Olivier? Who are you?”

“Amber. He threw the phone at me and said that if it rang I had to answer it.”

She was crying, that much was obvious. She sounded absolutely terrified. He looked at the agent then at the empty screen, just waiting to be told what to say.

He decided to ask his own questions while he waited for instructions.

“Are you alone? Are you hurt?”

“No, there’s a few men with guns. They separated everyone into different groups and different rooms. So many people are dead.”

He saw words appear, but ignored them for now. He needed to know. “My friend Mitch, do you know where he is? Is he ok?”

She hesitated, a tiny hitch in her breath as her crying seemed to escalate. “The brunette boy. He’s… I’m so sorry.”

His heart dropped, fear gripping him. “Is he dead?”

She seemed hesitant to say, catching her breath through her tears. “They’re… they’re taking turns raping him. He’s just screaming.”

And that was it. He felt his insides turn to stone. “no…. no no no. Please. They can’t be. He can’t ….No. no no no.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He stood knocking over his chair, no longer able to control his anger, his sorrow…  the intense pain in his heart.  He let out his own horrible wail of sadness. It no longer mattered if Mitch walked out through that door.  His best friend was gone. He’d never hear the sassy words, the playful lilt in his voice, the blatant flirtations that were so inherent. He’d never again hear the taboo remarks that often times made him laugh so hard he’d cry. He’d never feel that warm body in his arms while they cuddled on the couch to watch tv, would never again be able to climb into bed behind him in the middle of the night when stress had his brain on overload and the only thing that could calm and relax him was the other man’s presence.

His best friend, his other half was dead. He didn’t know what it was he was trying to save anymore.

 

He fell to his knees on the pavement, emptying the contents of his stomach.  His heart was already gone.

 

___________

He was left alone again, tossed into that same office he’d been kept in before and left to his own devices. Every single movement caused the knife still in his shoulder to shift and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming out.

Then he had a moment of clarity. That knife… the point would be perfect. Now he just had to pull it out. He felt sick to his stomach at just the thought, and just taking the handle in his fingers caused the tears to fall again, but he had to do it. He took two deep breaths, closing his eyes and thinking of the one thing that had kept him pushing forward and pulled it out in one motion. He fell over onto his side after it was done, giving himself a moment to regather some strength, some will. He pushed up his sleeve, maneuvering the bracelet so that he could start unscrewing it with the knife. He nearly cried in relief when he was finally able to get it off.

Well… he’d been relieved until he heard clapping coming from the door and laid eyes on the man who’d shoved the knife in his shoulders in the first place.

“What do we have here. Are you keeping things from me Michelle?”

“No… no I was just trying to get it off so i could give it to you. I didn’t have the screwdriver and…”