All of those sounded heavenly. He got up carefullyand followed Trevor out of the room, each step feeling sluggish like a baby learning to walk. In the bathroom, he didn’t dare to watch himself in the mirror above the sink. He brushed his teeth with an old toothbrush, then stepped into the small cubicle to take a hot shower. The water pressure came out wonky, but it was a miracle this house even had running water. Chris carefully slid a finger into his hole to wash from inside, hissing at the soreness of the area.
He wished to stay under the current for another hour, but he needed to learn about Jay’s condition, then figure out a way to get them free. It felt borderline hopeless considering how well Trevor got a handle on things, but everyone could make mistakes, even Trevor.
Chris stopped the water and stepped out, drying himself with a grubby towel.
Trevor gave him some of his clothes, which were too big. Once he put them on, Trevor sniffed Chris’s neck. “You smell nice. Come on, I grabbed some waffles from a diner.”
He hobbled after Trevor into the living room, his eyes stalling at the floor. He vaguely remembered being fucked down there by Jay. Even drowning in alcohol, the pain had been horrible.
“Where’s Andy?”
“Around.”
This house wasn’t big enough to just bearound,which meant that Andy was likely in the basement. Jayhad to be down there as well, assuming he was still alive. Chris stopped himself from going down to check. He was finally sober, and he needed to stay that way for as long as possible, which meant not pissing off Trevor.
They sat on the couch, the waffles stacked on a plate next to a glass of orange juice. He wanted to ask if there was something extra in the juice, but he would have drunk regardless.
“Dig in.”
Chris drank the entire glass, then moved to devour the waffles. They had no right to taste so good being as dry as they were. His stomach rumbled loudly, both happy for the food yet angry because it was shit.
“Feeling better?” Trevor asked once Chris finished.
“Yes. Why are you doing this?”
“What, letting you eat? Jesus, can’t I just be nice to my little brother?”
Chris stared at him blankly until Trevor chuckled. “Yeah, you know me too well. I need you to record a video on your phone.”
“What?”
He slid closer and put his palm on Chris’s cheek, his thumb stroking gently. “You and I will go outside to breathe some fresh air, then you’ll record a short video for me.”
Chris fought the urge to slap Trevor’s hand away. “What do you want me to say on that video?”
“Oh, you know. Words.”
“Trevor.”
“Just talk about how you’ve been feeling depressed lately, and that you need to disappear. Regular things people say before they kill themselves. Cool?”
Chris slapped Trevor’s hand away, his pulse rising. “You’re mental. There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to make me say those things. You want to kill me? Go ahead, but you’re not getting a single dollar out of that will. I have enough people who know what’s going on, and they’ll fight you until you die a homeless man.”
Trevor pursed his lips and cocked his head. “Sounds like I’m in a bit of a pickle if that’s your attitude.”
“Listen, it’s been two days since you kidnapped me, and I don’t think the police are looking yet. Let me and Jay go so I can solve the issue with the will. In the meantime, I’ll get a second mortgage on the house. Hell, I’ll sell the place.” He took a breath because his rusty throat began to hurt, but he’d meant every single word. To get back to his family, and to save Jay, he would convince Melissa to sell the house.
Trevor got to his feet. “Come on.”
“Where are—?”
He grabbed Chris’s arm and pulled him up. His head spun, a reminder that he was still severely hungover. Trevor dragged him toward the basement door and prompted him to walk down the creaking stairs.
When he reached the bottom, Andy beamed at him from a chair. “Hi, Daniel! You’re finally awake.”
Chris leaned against the wall, fearing he might throw up. Jay tilted his head at him from the examination chair, dark bags under his eyes. Layers of duct tape covered his mouth, wrapped around his head. He made a small and pitiful sound that stabbed at Chris’s heart.
“Sick bastards.”
