Sparrow

“That was the point.” Brock laughed harder and pulled the empty syringes from my thighs.

At least I was able to feel my feet again.

He pushed his door open and walked around the car to open my door for me. Forever the gentleman. “He was a black shadow over your little head all this time. Guys wouldn’t even breath in your direction, they were so scared of Troy. Get out.”

I stumbled out of the car and fell headfirst. I watched as he pulled a shovel from the trunk, holding his pistol in the other hand. He carried the shovel and yanked me up from the mud by my arm, then spun me so that I had my back to him, just like before. Shoving the gun between my shoulder blades, he nudged me through a trail of long, half-naked trees. A thick carpet of red and orange leaves crunched under my dragging feet. The forest was beautiful, but the ugliest thing imaginable was about to happen to me.

I wanted to run. Knew I could run really fast, but not as fast as a bullet, and not with legs that felt like they had concrete blocks attached to them. I gained more control over my feet, but I doubted it would be soon enough to save me.

I wasn’t giving up, though. If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be without a fight.

It was freezing, and I was wearing nothing but my running gear. My teeth were chattering and my hair, a little damp from running earlier, was coated with a thin layer of ice.

We walked in silence. The crunching of the twigs and the occasional sleepy bird chirping a good morning were the only sounds reminding me that time didn’t stand still.

I felt bile rising in my throat, my head swirling like I was going to faint. I’d rarely considered how I was going to die, and never imagined it’d be like this. But right now, with the shovel and the gun, with Brock looking like he did, wrath and cruelty dancing in his eyes, the odds of me leaving here in one piece, or leaving here at all, were growing slim.

We stopped near a tree stump marked with a slash of white paint. There was a fresh grave underneath it, carefully covered in mud. Brock pushed the shovel into my hand and cocked his head toward the leaf-covered ground.

“Start digging.”

I looked down. The earth was soft from all the rain, but the shovel was damn heavy and my body and legs were still not working right, though getting better with each passing second. I knew exactly what he was asking. He was asking me to dig my own grave. Looking back up, I felt my tears pooling behind my eyes, but I had no time for self-pity

I needed to do something, quick.

“Why are you doing this? I’m not him. I’m not Troy.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. “But you’re important to him. If I can’t steal you away, I will make sure he doesn’t have you, too. It was your choice.” He smacked his lips. “I tried my best to do it the easy way, but you didn’t want me. Tough luck.”

“Important to him?” I exclaimed, “You’re wrong. I’m not important to him in any way.”

“Yeah, you are.” He thrust me forward, pointing at the ground with his gun. “Now dig.”

Why was Brock so hell-bent on hurting Troy? He was the one who ended up marrying Troy’s girl and got a job from the guy afterwards. Troy may have been a jerk to him and his family, but Troy was also a jerk to everyone else, too. It was a universal thing. He didn’t discriminate.

Unless he knew about Troy and Catalina…then again, Brock himself said they were only two people living under the same roof for Sam’s sake.

Nothing made sense.

There was no logic behind this scenario.

My vision blurred with unshed tears. The green of the forest and brown of the mud smeared like a bad painting. I didn’t budge. Couldn’t dig my own grave.

Brock shoved me again, but this time, I tripped. I fell into the mud, my knees buried deep. It was freezing, my damp pants sticking to my thighs.

“Please don’t make me torture you more than necessary.” His voice was disturbingly composed for someone who had just insinuated that he was going to kill me. “It’s nothing personal. At least not against you. Come on now, sweetheart.”

I felt his warm hand jerking me up on my feet. I couldn’t look at his face, and sure as hell didn’t want him to look at mine as he broke me like no one else ever had before.

“I promise to make it quick and as pain free as possible if you cooperate. You won’t even realize what’s happening.”

I choked on my own saliva, gasping for air.