“He’s alive,” the words fell from my lips as a breathy exhale. “He’s alive, Eli.” Although I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing just yet.
For so long, I allowed a part of myself to believe he was something I’d made up to keep me sane while I suffered in hell. However, I allowed the other part of me to accept that he was dead and buried six feet under the ground. In my mind, either was a good possibility when it came to the only other option there was.
What if he’s suffering just like me?
When Eli first told me we were coming here, I was a nervous wreck just knowing that he’d possibly found the man that had haunted my dreams since my rescue. It wasn’t until the man he believed to be Zeek answered the door that reality set in. I couldn’t be sure, as there was always room for error, but I was pretty confident he was the same person I’d shared a cell with in Hell. Even if it weren’t, I needed that tiny sliver of hope.
For years, I’d been suffocating on my own feelings and I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed something to keep me going before something pushed me over the edge. And this time, it wouldn’t be something I could come back from. Of that, I was certain.
“I still have more digging to do in order to make sure it’s actually him,” Eli muttered as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “I don’t want to risk anything. Especially when it comes to you.”
Despite the fact that my body ached to run up to the stranger and find out if it was really Zeek, it made sense that Eli would be more cautious. From the moment we’d met, he’d been extremely protective of me. He was the first person in my life that actually understood me, even when I didn’t understand myself.
Sitting up straight, I did my best to appear confident while ignoring the tears that threatened to fall. “I–I want to talk to him.”
“Soon.” He turned to face me fully, his look showing me more than any words he spoke ever could. Eli wasn’t going to let me talk to him alone. And it certainly wouldn’t be as soon as I’d like. “Before that happens, you need to get yourself better.”
“Promise,” I nodded, knowing my words were likely nothing more than empty promises. I loathed the idea of Zeek, the man that had held me up while we were both in captivity, having to be my anchor once again. However, only God knew how desperate I really was to see that man one more time. Even if it meant getting better at pretending.
Rubbing my chest, I fought back the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. Deep down, I knew it was always a possibility that Zeek would want nothing to do with me, and I’d be lying if I said that thought didn’t hurt more than anything else ever could. My only hope was that he wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him.
Ezekiel
Just above my head, the screams of a man could be heard, echoing through my bones as he begged for his life. His voice was muffled as it filtered through the floorboards, but when that was the only thing you heard these days, it became pretty fucking noticeable. Unfortunately, like many of the others before him, I had a sinking feeling that the man upstairs wouldn’t be joining us back down here.
“Make it stop! Please,” the kid begged, rocking back and forth with his hands over his ears.
I wanted to point out that there was nothing I could do from my current positioned, chained to a wall, but I knew it would do no good. No words that I spoke ever would.
Sighing, I leaned my head against the brick wall, legs outstretched in front of me. All either of us could do was wait it out. Eventually, the cries would have to come to an end. But the sad fact was that as soon as it ended, it would start again with a new person that was still being held captive down here. It was a never-ending cycle. The only question that remained was if it would be one of us next.
The two times I’d been up there it wasn’t anything spectacular. There was a small kitchen–which was a filthy mess–an empty living room with the carpet torn out, and two bedrooms. One of the bedrooms was filled with what looked to be torture devices. I only knew because I’d seen it when one of the men forced me to pass by, his hand squeezing my neck when I tried to stop. The other bedroom was pretty plain; a bare mattress and night stand the only indicators of its intended purpose.
Inside that second room was where a different man told me to kneel. The fuck if I had any intention of doing that. If they wanted me to kneel, they were gonna have to make me. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
And I didn’t.
Rather than doing as the man demanded, I punched him in the throat. Unfortunately for me, one of the other fucking monsters in the room returned the favor by punching me in the nads. My balls pretty much shriveled up and died right then and there. After that, it didn’t take long for the three men to render me immobile.
“Tell me a story, Zeek.” The kid’s voice was soft as he scooted closer–just close enough to lay his head against my legs. Which he did without hesitation. However, this wasn’t the first time the boy had sought out my comfort, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
“Again?” My voice cracked from lack of use.
“Please?” In the dim light, I could see his pleading eyes looking up at me.
I sighed, making it seem like a huge deal when it really wasn’t. “How about you tell me more about yourself?”
“There’s nothing to tell.” His sniffle was muffed as he pressed his face against my leg.
“Sure, there is,” I argued as my hand found its way to his.
He clasped onto it like a lifeline before replying, “No, there really isn’t.” He jerked as another belting scream filtered through the floorboards. “What do these men want?” he cried, his voice strained.
‘The fuck if I know.’
Other than when causing pain, our captors never actually spoke. And despite my best efforts, they refused to answer any questions.
I unconsciously ran my opposite hand over my bruised cheek as I recalled the bitch-slap I’d received a few days prior. Though it was far better than another belt lashing across my back, the welts of which still remained, oozing and scabbing.
