Like To Be You ✓

forty eight

Anthony likes being credited for his works, I've realised.

"Houston," he hums, "Do me a favour and shut the boy up, will you?" 

Zayne's eyes widen. He clamps his mouth shut, afraid of letting any more noise out. Houston gives me a look as he yanks the girl up from Zayne's lap.

"Careful," Anthony tuts. "Be gentle with Rose. She's my petal, isn't she?"

"My name is not Rose!" The girl growls, her eyes suddenly fierce. "And I'm not your petal!" Houston's grip on her tightens. 

"My name is Ella Davies!" She shrieks as Houston leads her out of the room. "Ella Davies! It's Ella Davies! They took me last week from Wisconsin! Tell my father—!"

The door closes behind her screams, shutting out all noise.

"Wisconsin." Tyler repeats blankly.

Anthony pulls at a cuff on his wrist. He looks immaculate— not a hair is out of place.

"I heard that you're not satisfied with my services." He says, folding his hands behind his back. "Perhaps I could bring some boys for you. It'll take less than an hour to retrieve some."

"You sick fuck." Zayne grits through his teeth.

Anthony chooses to ignore Zayne's words. Instead, he fixes his attention on me. "Or perhaps your own boyfriend could dance for you, no? You would like that, Neil, wouldn't you?"

I want to throw him off a roof and onto a mattress of spikes.

He looks deranged as he watches me, gauging my reaction. It's the feral, hungry look in his eyes that scares the shit out of me.

I spit the saliva I've been accumulating in my mouth at the tip of his shoes. A sudden look of anger washes across his face. I don't even see the fist coming. 

I see stars. Twinkling pinpoints. Green, blue, white, zooming in and out, clusters of novas churning over and exploding into white light that painfully sears through my skin. I feel my life crumble faster than a Nature Valley granola bar.

When my eyes open again, Houston's returned and Anthony's straightening his tie. 

"How much did he pay you?" I ask Houston. My cheek is tender after being punched twice in the same spot. My chest feels ready to heave itself out of my mouth. 

"Loyalty can't be bought, Neil." Anthony tuts. He sounds so condescending it makes my blood boil, and I feel the last of my resolve snap. 

"Why did you kill my father?!" I shriek, struggling against the wire. It digs into my wrist and thumb, and the sting of it slicing through renders me frozen for a moment. "What did he do to you!"

"Oh, it wasn't me." Anthony says, watching my outburst with twinkling eyes. I can feel the acridness of the bile rising up my esophagus. "I have absolutely no blood on my hands."

"Hiring someone to kill another person still makes you the killer." Zayne says, wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Lo and behold! He can speak coherently." Anthony remarks. 

"Fuck you, you sick bastard." Zayne says. My fist clenches— a bad decision, because another wave of searing pain shoots up my arm. My chest contracts so hard it presses against my already-bruised ribs. 

Anthony lets out a breath and lifts a finger. Houston passes me a careful look as he pushes Zayne's head back, a blade the size of a fingernail at his throat. My breath hitches. 

"Anything, Houston." I wheeze. "Alibi, money, no charges." 

"Quiet, boy." Anthony voice sharply rings out. 

Tyler's head suddenly droops to the shoulder of his tied-up arm. My heart misses one too many beats watching his unconscious figure hang limp.

"Houston, please." My pleas fall on deaf ears. "Please." 

Or so I think. 

A distant bang goes off, like wood slamming into cement. A muddle of shouts follow, and then I hear it, my head nearly falling into my lap with relief. 

Authoritative, commanding orders bellow out. 

Anthony's already in action, pulling at a handle built in the ground in the front left corner. I passage gives away below him.

"No! Houston, don't— don't let him leave! Houston, please." My voice gives out. Houston's eyes shift back and forth between me and Anthony's disappearing figure.

Then in a completely heart-soaring moment, he lunges ahead, catching the lapel of his jacket, and pulls Anthony up roughly.

"Houston!" Anthony sounds only mildly irritated, but I can see the wrinkles of panic on his face. "You fool!"

Footsteps boom outside the vault door. 

Zayne screams out for help, while Houston holds Anthony in a choke-hold with one bicep, reaching for a gun from the holster at the waistband of his jeans. 

"You swear, Neil?" Houston's eyes are frantic, struggling to hold Anthony's thrashing figure with one arm. He holds the gun up—

"Houston, no!" I warn, sure he's going to pull the trigger on Anthony, when he aims it at me. 

My stomach drops. My chest vibrates. Please, no, I think. 

"Do you swear, Neil?" Houston repeats. My eyes are glued to his finger on the trigger, and the way the gun shakes in his trembling hand. 

A shout comes from the door. The spoke handle turns. 

"I swear." I whisper— and it's enough. The gun drops. 

Houston pulls a blue Anthony's arms behind his back as if to cuff them together. 

The door opens. Dark bodies swarm in. Sweet relief at the sight of the three letters on the vests the bodies wear fills every pore of mine. 

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Houston says, eyes wide as the officers begin cuffing him. "Tell them, Neil! He knows!" 

"Are you alright?" A woman kneels at my side, working on the wire around my throat. The top of her baseball cap brushes against my jaw, and it's the first thing I've felt apart from steel and misery in the last twelve hours. 

"Bad." I say, gulping when the cold metal of pliers in her hand touches my wrist. "He's bad." 

"Take them in!" The woman orders. "Every-fucking-one of them."

The wire slides off my numbed and bloody wrists and drops to the floor. Satisfied with the sight in front of me, my brain decides it's a fantastic time to take a fucking nap. 

o-o-o

Yes, it's been 42 days since I've last updated. My sincere apologies. It's been tuff :/

Vacations start in two days, so hopefully I'll be able to complete the book. I really want the remaining two chapters to be perfect. 

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