Slow Agony (24 page)

Marcel cupped Griffin’s face with one hand. “Might as well fuck her while you’ve got the chance, huh?”

Griffin lunged for Marcel, but when he moved he dislodged his blanket.

Marcel sneered. “Gonna wrestle me naked, Griffin?”

Griffin gathered the blanket around himself.

Still laughing, Marcel backed away.

He and the men retreated to the top of the house.

We could hear them tramping around upstairs, laughing and talking.

“Why did he take our clothes?” I said.

“Because people feel vulnerable without them,” said Griffin. He leaned up against the concrete wall, closing his eyes. “Fuck it, we are vulnerable.”

I wrapped the blanket tight around me and tiptoed over to the basement door. It was a wooden door with four small panels of glass set in its center. I rubbed at the grimy window, trying to get a look at the three padlocks they’d installed outside.

“It’s not going to work, doll.”

“What if we broke the window?”

“How are we going to get those padlocks off?”

He was probably right. The panes of glass were too small for us to wriggle through. That door wasn’t the way out. I climbed the steps instead and tried the door there. Near as I could tell, there wasn’t a padlock on the other side of it, but it was locked as well. There was something about this door that Naomi had told me. What was it? I rattled the knob, trying to force the answer from my brain.

But I couldn’t remember, so I came back downstairs.

Wrapping my blanket tight around me, I curled up next to Griffin, holding onto him tightly. He didn’t hold me back.

Marcel seemed to think it would be fine for us to use the grate in the basement for a bathroom. The hose was down there too, so at least I could rinse the smell away. But it was disgusting and barbaric. I
was
going to kill this man. But first I had to get Griffin away before Marcel shattered him completely.

I seemed to have stopped bleeding. I supposed that was another gift from the serum, because I was pretty sure that a miscarriage, even one as early as mine, should last longer than a couple of days. I was glad, because it was easier to deal with everything without having the inconvenience and pain of the blood. It was also good not to have the constant reminder of what I’d lost.

I couldn’t think about it now, even though I was far from over it. When we got away, when Griffin was safe, when Marcel was dead... then I’d grieve. I didn’t have the luxury now.

I watched Griffin, who was huddled against the wall. He hadn’t said anything in hours, but we’d both been awake since the sun came up. He kept his eyes open, but they were empty. I was losing him, and I didn’t know what to do about it. How could I get him to wake up, to fight?

When I figured out how we were going to get out of here, I’d need him to do his part.

Oh, hell. Maybe I was lying to myself. Maybe we weren’t going to get out of there.

I shivered. I couldn’t think that. I couldn’t.

One man was holding me, and my blanket was slipping. I couldn’t push it back up, because I didn’t have use of my arms. It was sliding down, nearly exposing my breasts. If struggled, it would fall even further, so I stayed still. I was angry.

Marcel was kneeling next to Griffin, who was still sitting on the floor, staring into space. If Griffin noticed that I was being held down, he didn’t let on.

“We know each other pretty well, wouldn’t you say, Griffin?” Marcel’s voice was quiet and amiable. He didn’t sound like a monster, and that made him even more monstrous somehow. I wanted to leap on him and claw his eyes out.

Griffin didn’t answer.

Marcel grabbed Griffin’s shoulder.

He flinched away. His eyes flashed.

Marcel’s tone grew harsher. “
Don’t
we?”

“If you say so,” Griffin said.

“We have a past. We have a history, you and me.” Marcel’s voice was soft again. “I know things about you that no one else knows. And you’ve done things for me. Intimate things—”

Griffin turned on him. “We aren’t in jail, anymore, Marcel. You trying to admit to me that you prefer dicks over chicks? Well, I always suspected.”

Marcel rocked back on his heels. “Shouldn’t talk like that to me, Griffin.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway, right?” said Griffin. “What do I care?”

Marcel stood up. He strode over to me.

I glared at him.

He snatched my chin. “Bet he doesn’t have the slightest idea what to do with you, does he?”

“You know,” said Griffin, “near as I can see, I’m the only person here with a girlfriend, so if you’re trying to convince me you’re not gay—”

Marcel dug his fingers into my throat, and I cried out.

“If you want me to keep hurting her, by all means, keep talking, Griffin.”

Griffin hung his head.

Marcel let go of me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I could get through this. I could be strong. Griffin needed me.

“It was never about that, and you know it, Griffin,” said Marcel. “It wasn’t about anything as pedestrian as sex. That’s not what I want.”

I opened my eyes. Marcel was kneeling down next to Griffin again. Griffin wasn’t looking at him.

“What I want,” said Marcel in his soft voice, “is to get inside here.” He tapped Griffin’s forehead. “I want to own you.”

Griffin looked disgusted. And terrified.

“I used to. You remember?”

“No,” said Griffin.

“No, you don’t remember, or no, I didn’t own you?”

“You didn’t own me.” Griffin was whispering, but he was somehow defiant.

“I’d argue with you,” said Marcel, getting to his feet, “tell you that I did, but I think you might be right. I think maybe you kept something back.” He strode back and forth. “You got yourself right in the middle of that fight, didn’t you?” He stopped and turned to Griffin. “You were trying to escape. Escape to the hospital, escape to death, I don’t think it mattered to you. You wanted away from me.”

Griffin swallowed.

“You shouldn’t have been able to want that,” said Marcel. “If I’d owned you the way I should, you wouldn’t have wanted anything except what I wanted you to want.”

I was horrified. How sick was this man? He was completely insane.

“You see, that was why I liked you so much in the beginning,” said Marcel. “You thought it was because you were young and soft and
girly
, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Griffin said in a strangled voice.

“But that wasn’t why I liked you. It was a nice bonus, of course, because it made you appealing to other people, people who cared about things like that. You were easy to trade out, to use to get things I wanted.” Marcel reached out and caressed Griffin’s cheek.

Griffin gritted his teeth.

“But I liked you because there was a spark. Something very independent. And I thought you’d be a challenge. I wanted to make you mine. That was all. I would have done it, too, Griffin. But I got interrupted. You got in that fight, you got pulverized, and they took you away. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. But I never forgot about you. I always wanted to finish what I started. And now I have the chance.”

Oh Jesus, he couldn’t be serious. What was he going to do to Griffin? What was he going to do to me? How could someone this horrible exist?

“No,” rasped Griffin.

“No?” Marcel got up again. “Maybe I’ll make blondie mine first then. Would you like to watch that, Griffin? I bet I can make her scream until she loses her voice.”

Griffin stood up. He wrapped his blanket around his waist like a towel. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

Marcel raised his eyebrows. “Then you’ll turn yourself over to me.”

“Griffin,” I said. “Don’t listen to him. You don’t have to do anything. I can handle—”

“Oh,” laughed Marcel, “you’re so sweet, aren’t you? Ready to sacrifice yourself for him?” He crossed to me, reached out, and tugged on my blanket.

It slid down, exposing me. Revulsion and fear shot through my body.

“Stop,” said Griffin. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That was easy,” said Marcel. He stuck out his lower lip. “Too easy, I think. I was looking forward to playing with blondie a little more.”

Griffin yanked my blanket back into place, covering me again.

“Did I say you could touch her?” Marcel took out his knife. The blade flicked out. “Stay back.”

“Just take me,” said Griffin. “You’ve got me. Let’s get it over with.”

Marcel smiled. “Okay, then. That’s more like it. Hold out your arms.”

Griffin did it.

“No,” I said.

He wouldn’t look at me.

Marcel had rope in his back pocket. He lashed Griffin’s hands together. “Let’s go.” He dragged Griffin up the stairs, throwing over his shoulder, “Hold her until I’m gone. If she struggles, you can shoot her in the head.”

Even with that warning, I struggled anyway. I did get shot in the head. When I came out of being dark, I was lying on the basement floor and my blanket was not covering me in a very modest way. I felt disgusted.

But I didn’t pay it much mind, because I knew that Griffin was going through so much worse.

He was gone for most of the day. As the hours wore on, I began to hear noises above me. Agonized, throaty screams. Jeering laughter.

What were they doing to him up there?

Marcel had said that what he did to Griffin wasn’t about sex, but I got the impression that Marcel would use whatever means he could to break Griffin down. Which meant that Griffin was probably being...

No.

Maybe I wouldn’t think about it. Maybe if I didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t be real.

That wasn’t logical, but I was beginning to think that I might be going crazy. After everything that had happened to me lately, I almost wanted to go crazy. It hurt too much inside my head. I could hardly handle existing anymore.

And Griffin. My poor, sweet Griffin. Was there going to be anything left of him?

What if they did kill him?

They wouldn’t need me anymore, then, would they?

“No,” I said out loud. “We’re not going to think this way.”

We?

Was there someone else here with me?

I really was going crazy.

But I knew it was true that it couldn’t be good for me to sit around and brood. I needed to do something.

I wrapped myself in my scratchy blanket, and I began to take inventory of the basement. I went through all of the boxes in the corner. There wasn’t anything in them except a really big spider, which gave me the creeps.

I managed to keep myself from screaming. Spiders were horrible, but they were an irrational fear, and I needed to stay sharp. I needed to be strong.

Griffin needed me.

Above me, there was a strangled yell.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to cry.

No. I needed to find a way out.

There had to be something I could use down here.

I went over to the washer and dryer. I looked inside them. They were empty. The hose was next to them. I contemplated the hose for a while. Was there any way I could spray Marcel and his men into submission or use the hose to strangle them or something?

After considering several different ridiculous scenarios, I gave up on the hose. It wasn’t going to help.

In desperation, I climbed the steps again. Maybe they’d accidentally left the door at the top unlocked.

But they hadn’t.

However, when I was standing at the top of the steps, I suddenly remembered the thing that I couldn’t remember before. What Naomi had said about the door.

We were standing at the top of the steps, in her hallway, which was where the door to the basement was located.

“I don’t know where this door came from,” she said. “It’s like an outside door, do you see what I’m saying?” She pointed to the door knob, which had a keyhole on it, unlike a regular door to a room inside.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “That’s weird.”

“Right,” she said. “I think maybe it used to be the main door. Like, I can tell where they put an addition on the house, and I think this was the old door. They put on a new one, but they stuck this one here.”

I considered. “Could be.”

“But that’s not the messed-up thing about it,” she said. “The messed-up thing is that it locks itself sometimes.”

I laughed. “Naomi, doors don’t lock themselves.”

“Yeah, well, explain to me how I’ve ended up in the basement in my nightgown with bare feet while I’m doing laundry, locked down there. Do you think I lock myself down there?”

“Wow. That does sound messed up.”

“It happened three times before I decided I need to keep a key in the basement,” she said. “So, if you’re ever down there, looking at my empty plant hook, and you’re locked in, just reach up on top of the ledge above the door.”

“It’s not a plant hook,” I said, laughing. “It’s too dark down there for plants.”

She shut the basement door. “I’m afraid what locks me down there are ghosts, and they’re going to steal the key.”

I was still laughing. “There are no such things as ghosts. Come on.”

I got up on my tip toes. I slid my hand over the ledge at the top of the door.

At first, I felt nothing but dust and cobwebs.

I kept running my fingers over it.

And there it was. The key!

“Thank you, Naomi,” I said. “If you’re a ghost somewhere, thank you. Thank you so much.”

I clutched it, smiling hugely. Ha. It might not be dangerous to bring us to Naomi’s house, but it was incredibly stupid. I’d finally got one on up on Marcel. We were going to get out of here, and he was going to pay.

I fitted the key into the lock.

And then I stopped. What was I planning here? Was I going to rush out there in my blanket, find Griffin, and then rescue him from Marcel and all of his men? There were at least four other guys here. I didn’t even have a weapon. No, it didn’t make sense to rush into this.

I needed to be smart. I’d wait until later. When it was night. At least some of them would have to be sleeping then. That would give me a better chance of getting us out. I couldn’t chance mistakes. Neither of us could bear to be here for too much longer. Everything was too horrible.