Bait

I hate the way it sounds from his mouth.

“That’s a fucked up username, you know? Bait.”

He laughs.

“But then again, if the cap fits.”

I know I should do everything I can to avoid antagonising the drunken psychopath at the wheel, but I can’t stop my mouth as it blurts out the obvious.

“You started that fire.”

He laughs. “You think I fucking killed Mariana? LEO killed Mariana. She wouldn’t have been there in the fucking first place if he wasn’t such a cunt.”

“You were in there when it started, not Leo.”

“Yeah, trying to stop her losing her fucking mind!” he snaps, and I decide to keep my mouth shut from here on in.

I hope Leo’s discovered my absence already. I hope he’s called a thousand cops and they’ll be descending on this truck any second in a helicopter. But no. The truck rumbles on.

I know we’re climbing. I feel it.

“We were a good team once,” Jack tells me. “Me, Leo, and Mariana. We ran the business together.”

I don’t say a word.

“I saw her first, you know? No matter what he fucking tells you, I saw her first.” He pauses. I’m sure I hear him sniffle. “I fucking loved her. I loved her more than he ever did. He’d have kicked her to the fucking kerb long ago if she hadn’t had Cam.”

I wish he’d stop talking. I wish he’d shut the fuck up.

“Leo loved her,” I argue. “She loved him, I’m sure.”

“Like you know fuck all about it,” he snarls. “She wanted to run from him.”

“Good for her. Maybe she should have done it without taking a midnight detour to a warehouse packed to the rafters with highly-flammable chemicals.”

I’m being a horrible bitch and I know it, but I can’t stop. It’s get angry or get scared, and I’m not ready to give up and go down without a fight. Not for this douche.

“She called me, you know,” he says, but I sigh.

“I don’t really care.”

“You will.”

Those two simple words make me shiver.

I close my eyes and pray for a miracle. Pray for a nightmare. Pray for a monster.

Pray for anything.

For him.

I pray for another shot at having a baby. I pray for the chance to meet Cameron and see if we could grow to like each other. I pray for a chance to eat Sarah’s grandma’s special recipe lasagne with the man I love.

I pray to kiss his scars one more time.

I pray to see him in the moonlight and water one more time.

To hold him one more time.

To take him one more time.

To tell him I love him.

To tell everyone back home I’m sorry for running and I love them, too.

The backseat is a lonely world. Tears stream easily as the sky turns dark through the back window. I try to hold them back, because these silent tears are the worst.

These silent tears mean defeat.

My heart drops into my stomach as the truck comes to a stop. I flinch as he opens up the back and tugs me out by my feet.

His breath is in my face as he wraps thick twine around my wrists. Fighting is no good as he crouches down and fastens it to my ankles.

I can hobble at best. I struggle to keep my balance, even against the truck.

His eyes are dark glass. Vile and angry.

And sad.

He’s so sad.

It’s that part of him I speak to.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “Not any of it.”

“Run,” he says, just like that. My eyes widen in realisation. “That’s what you like, isn’t it?”

I have no words as he takes my elbow and throws me into the darkness.

I stare around me at the high surround fencing. The spikes on top.

I stare into the darkness and see the toothy grimace of a burnt-out tower. And I know.

She died here.

“Run!” Jake shouts, and it’s enough to bring me to my senses.

I hobble as fast as I can into the darkness with my heartbeat in my ears.

I trip and stumble but keep my footing.

Because I have to.

I really have to.

Tonight, it’s the monster’s brother who’s hunting me.

And if he catches me…

If he catches me, it may well be the end of all of us.Thirty-SevenFrom the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate.

SocratesAbigailThere’s nowhere to run in this place. It’s completely enclosed. The only way out is back the way I came. Past Jake.

He knew it.

Of course he fucking knew it.

He’s playing with me.

I drop to my knees and tear my fingernails loosening that twine from my ankles.

I can’t get it from my wrists, but it’s better than nothing.

At least it means I can move without hobbling.

There’s barely any light to see by. I wonder if that will make it easier to hide instead of run, but I suspect Jake knows this place too well for that.

I can still hear him back there, lumping drums from his truck. The grind of wheels on tarmac.