27
TATI
The world comes back into focus slowly. I open my eyes to darkness and the dank and familiar smells of mildew and dust. I’m lying on a dirty floor. I can feel the grit pressing against my face, hands, and forearms as I try to move. Instant soreness thrums through my muscles and one side of my jaw.
Bastard knocked me out and threw me… where?
It’s taking me a minute for my eyes to adjust, but I can make out shelves and a table against one of the walls and a stairwell leading up to a closed door above me.
Wait. I’m in a basement. Not only that, but I alsoknowthis basement. Shit. Yanov brought be back to my father’s house.
I stand up and dust myself off. There has to be some way out of here. When I was a kid, there used to be a storm door somewhere… I start walking carefully through the darkness in the direction of where it used to be, only to be met with the cool surface of a concrete wall.
Of course he had it walled up. This is probably where he keeps people who disobey him. Wouldn’t want them to escape.
Okay. Well. Now what? It’s dark as fuck down here, so I can’t really see anything in this darkness. I don’t even know where the light is.
I’m trying not to speculate on what the plan must be. This time when he sent Yanov to collect me, he didn’t bother with locking me away in my bedroom. I don’t think that’s a coincidence or even a matter of just being lazy. I’m in the dark and dirty basement now. That can’t mean anything good.
Knowing what he did to my brother, I can expect anything. All the more reason to get the fuck out of here as fast as I can.
There are no windows. The storm door has been walled up. Other than the shadows of various pieces of furniture, I can’t really see farther than a few inches in front of my face. Surely, he’s not planning on just keeping me here indefinitely. Then again, he kept me locked away in my room for months. I suppose becoming a prisoner in his basement isn’t that far of a leap.
Well, if that’s his plan, I’m not going for it. I’m getting the fuck out of here. I just need to find something to pick the lock to the door.
I go to the shelves and start looking for something, anything, that might help. I’m doing this mostly by feel, so most of these things I can’t identify. A dense, square-shaped plastic thing, something metal that might be a bucket, a metal box with a bunch of metal things clanking around inside…
Oh. A toolbox. I open it and root around for a screwdriver. It doesn’t take me long before I find one.
The lights suddenly come on all around me, blinding me for half a second as footsteps descend into the basement. I dart behind the shelves and crouch down to hide.
The footsteps stop and I hear Yanov say, “Come out, come out, wherever you are, little rabbit.”
Fuck him. I grip the screwdriver in both hands. Whatever he’s planning to do with me, I’m not about to let him do it easily. I clench my jaw and listen as he walks carefully toward the shelves, his shoes slowly crushing the tiny bits of gravel and dirt on the floor.
“I knew I should have tied you up,” he says. “Your father was against doing so, though. I suppose this is his way of being soft on you, giving you one last chance to do the right thing before we have to act.”
He’s close to me. I can smell his cologne and see his shadow on the floor in front of me. All he has to do is turn a corner and I can stab him. My heart is pounding and my hands are sweating. I’ve got one shot at this. If I miss, I’m fucked.
“You’ve always been a clever little rabbit,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But not clever…enough!”
The shelves rattle and suddenly, I’m grabbed by my hair and yanked into the steel shelving. I yelp and start swinging the screwdriver as I struggle to get away. It connects with his wrist. I feel the metal meet resistance and he curses, letting me go.
I scramble out from behind the shelf and he lunges for me. I’m screaming, swinging the screwdriver at him wildly. I manage to catch him across the face. The edge of the flathead scrapes his cheek. It doesn’t stop him from grabbing me by the wrists and slamming the one with the screwdriver into the nearestwall. It falls from my hands uselessly and he whirls me around, wrapping me up in a bearhug and lifting me off my feet.
“LET ME GO!” I start screaming. “MOTHERFUCKER! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”
I’m kicking, trying to get him in the legs or torso, but he’s got me firm. He carries me over to a chair and slams me down. I try to get up and he grabs my by the throat, choking me.
“Sit. Still,” he growls.
He holds me until I stop struggling, then he steps away to the table by the wall. In the light, I can see that it’s got particular items on it. Pliers, a blowtorch, rope, duct tape.
So, that’s the plan. Torture. Hell no.
I sprint for the stairs, knocking the chair down. I get as far as the bottom step before I feel his hands grab my shirt. I evade him, leaping up the rickety wooden steps to freedom. To the door right above me…
Then it opens and a shadow blocks the light.
