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Chapter Three
REESE
I've waited patientlyby the hole in the wall. Morning has turned to night five times since Sin left me with what I might have thought to be an imaginary wind of his existence. Except, my hand is now full, and it wasn't five days ago.
Food continues to appear, but only while I'm giving in to the sleep I've been fighting off. I want to see Sin again. I want to ask him questions. I'm even hopeful for an answer every time I open the food-filled paper bag, but there's nothing other than bread, cheese and turkey. Every day it's bread, cheese, and turkey.
I uncurl my fingers, feeling the ache web through my palm from keeping my hand clenched so tightly. Running my thumb over the slick metal and all of its fine ridges, I pinch the base between my fingers to study each groove, cut, and angle. Moving the metal from side to side, I see a small, blurry reflection of pale skin staring back at me. I try not to blink, fearful of losing eye contact with the stranger I have become to myself. Sadly, though, when the sunlight shifts away from the hole in the wall, I lose sight of myself.
I anchor my focus back out of the hole in search for the cloud that has stolen my light, but instead, I see him. Dirt covered knees hit the ground, and an eye looks back at me. "We obviously need to get this hole patched up," Snatcher says quietly under his breath. "Light will keep you sane, and we can't have that."
"Please let me out," I beg, as I always beg when this man is in the vicinity of my presence.
A howl of laughter floats through the air outside. "Only your mother can let you out."My mother.
"Do you know my mother?" I cry. His eye disappears from my view and his dirt covered knee waves by, leaving me with the view of dirt. The sound of his footsteps grow and shrink as if he is walking back and forth, amplifying my fear of what he's going to do next. Anger sears through me like it does several times a day, and I pound my fists against the walls, praying for a crack in one of the boards. With no shoes or hard objects, I'm left with nothing but my weak body parts to help me out of here.
"Shut up," he screams, his voice sounding as if he swallowed a mouthful of gravel. "Shut up you, you little bitch." The speed of his steps increases. His anger is growing, and I consider what will happen if I push him over the edge. Death does not seem like the worst option anymore. Remaining in this box does.
I pound my fists harder into the boards, feeling the splinters slice through my knuckles. The wood is distressed in the places I've beaten over the years—above and below each crack and hole I have pounded with all of my strength, but my weakness does little damage.
With a thud, the barrel of a gun presses through the hole, sealing the spec of light. "How do you know where I'm standing?" I ask calmly. If he shoots and misses me, there might be a new hole for me to look through. "Please, shoot your weapon. I'm standing right in front of it." I stare down at the barrel from the side, waiting for the eruption of metal to break its way through the shed. Minutes pass, however, and nothing but silence blasts through these four walls. "Are you scared?"
The barrel disappears, allowing the light back in, but I know he's still there. I can hear him breathing. I can hear the heaviness of each one of his breaths. I think I can hear his racing heartbeat too, but that may only be a part of my imagination. "How do you know my mother?" I ask. Mom was, maybe still is, a nurse at the local hospital in the town I used to live in before I was taken. She worked long hours to put food on the table for the two of us, often coming home well after midnight and leaving again before sunrise. She told me life wouldn't always be so challenging, but sacrifices are sometimes needed to survive. We were hardly teetering on the edge of survival. After Dad died, our sacrifices became meals, safety, and warm water. But like she always told me, surrendering is never an option. Fighting is the only way to survive. So I will fight for her.
"Your mother is a coward. She is weak, stupid, and naïve. She screwed up, and now she's going through what I went through."What he went through.
"What?" I shout. I shove the heels of my palms into my ears, needing to erase everything I just heard. I slam my head into the wall, clenching myeyes,and grinding my teeth. I hit my head again, and again. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it," I mutter to myself. I scream through my teeth, tugging at my hair, feeling the snap of a few frail strands. "Just do it, you coward!"
"You're not locked in here so I can kill you," he seethes. His mouth is so close to the hole; spit sprays from his mouth, wetting the outline of the wooden hole. "This is karma. Sometimes karma needs to be jumpstarted."
"Maybe you don't understand how karma works then." I unfold my hand once more and grip the key tightly between my fingers. I kneel down putting my face in front of the hole. "You know what?" I ask, pulling in his attention. I don't know what the hell this key is for, seeing as thereareno goddamn locks on the inside of this shed, but, I know one thing it can do.
Baiting him in, his eye lines up with the hole again and I shove the key right through the hole and into his eye.
The shed shakes, rumbling with growls and obscenities.
Once more, light returns to the hole and his feet stomp around to the front where the door is. The lock on the outside clatters against the wall and I hold my breath. I close my eyes.
And I pray for death.
