Four
Skye
Present
“Let’s give the birthday girl what she wants.”
I can feel the blindfold budging, though the progress is so miniscule, it’s maddening. The blindfold is big. It ends below my nose and at the top of my upper lip, which makes breathing out of my nose hard because of the thick fabric. My movements become more urgent as I rub my face faster against the stone.
“It’s really tight,” Brit grunts. She’s been trying to remove Fay’s blindfold for a while now, too. “I can’t undo the knot or get my finger through to loosen it.”
That’s because our abductor is masterful at knot tying, I think. Exceptionally knowledgeable given the bind he used on our arms. Said arms are growing sorer by the minute.
“Just pull,” Fay eventually replies. “Don’t be afraid to go rough.”
But then Brit must have been too rough because Fay screams in pain. “Stop, stop!”
Britney apologizes profusely as she descends into another crying fit.
I’m frustrated because the knot that’s tied around my head is so tight, I’m beginning to feel numb around my eyes. Trying to move the blindfold causes the skin to chafe, and the process is so slow.
But if I keep going, I’ll make progress; except the stone and wood is too smooth. I wind up dropping to the ground and rubbing my face against the dirt floor. Dirt clogs my throat instantly, and I wind up in a coughing fit, but I don’t stop.
I need to get this fucker off me. I need to see where I am. I need to formulate a plan and having my eyesight is my greatest hope for that.
“What if he comes?” Brit whimpers. “What if he sees what we’re doing?”
“We’re dead anyway,” Fay retorts. “We can’t stop. Come back and try again.”
I’m glad Fay is focused. She’s been calm, strong, but that comes at the expense of hearing me talk.
“Keep going, Skye,” she tells me, her voice quaking as she tries to bury her fear. “Talk to me.Please.”
I pause to swallow hard; my throat is dry, and I’m on the verge of peeing myself. Panting, I wait for my pulse to slow before I say, “My story doesn’t have a happy ending, Fay.”
“I don’t care,” she pleas. “Just talk, because the silence will kill me, understand?”
I understand very well the damage that silence can inflict.
At the same time, we haven’t been visited by our abductor yet, and I need to focus on getting this blindfold off me.
But I talk anyway, even if they sound like pants.
I talk because it helps them.
I talk because I might vomit and shake and descend into madness.
Fear…
Fear is my enemy.