All the while, as they’re getting me unchained, bandaging up my wounds and bringing me food, and clothing to change into, I’m just watching them. Feeling such a profound sense ofprideon behalf of one of the most troubled people I’ve ever met.
After everything he’s been through, that Trevel Fenwick could find the courage to continue seeking unconditional love is nothing shy of incredible. I’d like to take some minor credit for helping him, but this isn’t mine. If anything, I further contributed to his abandonment issues. I hurt him, and I do feel bad about that.
I’m just glad he could find something worthwhile here, as I have.A purpose.
For days after Trevel saves me, I’m still trapped. And trapped in a dark, cement tomb with the dead bodies of the men I’d hated, no less.So… that’s fun.
At least now I have some supplies; a first-aid kit, food and water, a lantern, and a space heater that works on battery power.
I find an alcove at the other end of the tombs where I decide to stay, so I don’t have to smell the gross funk of death, which was already down here before the two assholes, which leads me to believe that they weren’t the first unfortunate pricks to meet their miserable end in this dungeon.
I’m just grateful it was them and not me. Because I want to see Felix. I’mdesperatefor it. Every time the noise dies down above my head, I creep towards the stairs and consider attempting an escape.
Unfortunately, it’s just too risky. The stairs in a place with very little cover. Plus, I feel a sudden sense of allegiance to Byron and Trevel. It’d be a dick move to leave before I’m certain that they can get out too. I’m sure that’s why Felix hasn’t shown up yet…
As torturous as it is, we need to be smart, and patient. I will not give up hope, and I willnotbe entertaining the idea that he’s hurt. I believe in him above all else, and I can’t help thinking that whatever he’s been doing is more important to the greater good than risking it all to save me.
Just because he’s a monster, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. On the contrary, he cares almost too hard sometimes. It’s one of the things I love most about him. His unwavering devotion.
God, my sweet, sick Need.
I miss you so much it hurts.
Taking out the cellphone Trevel gave me, I take another shot at calling random numbers from Joy’s contacts list, to see if anyone picks up. So far, no one has. Everyone I try is either out of service, or it goes straight to voicemail. The thing’s at fifteen percent battery, and the roaming is draining it fast, so I can’t be fucking around here.
Not to mention that her father calls and texts incessantly every second it’s powered on. I feel kind of awful. He seems really worried.
And that gets me thinking…
Not that I want to lure anyone to impending danger, but based on what I know about Joy’s father, something tells me he’d be alright with it. According to their texts, Joy told him not to come. But since he hasn’t heard from her in a while, he’s threatening to disobey her wishes.
Toshow up and behead that Colombian fucking prick, his exact words.
Maybe I should respond… Just to update him. What’s the harm in that?
Typing out a text, I hit send. Feeling satisfied with my message. Until the phone immediately starts ringing in my hand.
Shit… I’m not sure why I didn’t anticipate this.
Contemplating what to do for way too long, I ultimately swipe to answer.
“Hello?”
“Alright, listen up, preck. I don’t know who yeh are, but yeh better tell me where the fook my daughter is, or I’ll rain hellfire down on your miserable existence—everyone shut up!” He barks at someone in the background in between barking at me, and I have to grin.
I learned about Joy’s dad when I first got here, while reading up on the guards and their histories. Finn Jameson was one of the most ruthless enforcers for the Irish Mob in Boston.Old-school Boondock Saints type guy.
I’d love to meet him.
“My name is Dr. Lemuel Love. I work with your daughter… sort of,” I croak. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you for certain where she is, but I’d like to think she’s alright. Since, you know… she’s your daughter.”
Cringing, I shake my head.Even ten percent more compassionate would have probably worked. Jesus.
“Doctor… you sound like a right fookin arsehole. When I get to that island, I’m shooting you first.”
Then he hangs up.
Uh… oops.
