Page 103 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

As I speak, I see something flash in Lou’s eyes. “When you said you were away all summer…you were always here on your land?”

I nod, realizing how little she knows about me. Next to nothing, really.

“How many summers?”

“Three.” Why haven’t I ever told her about myself? Did I think it wouldn’t interest her or scare her even more?

Lou looks at me as if she can see inside me and wraps her arms around her knees. “You’ve been coming here ever since you accidentally killed that man.”

Jordan Price pops up in my mind like a blackberry thorn that’s embedded in you and resurfaces after a long time. “Quite astute.” And remembers everything.

Lou bites her lip. “I don’t have much else to think about when I’m not busy planning an escape.”

In my mind, I see myself standing in the run-down basement, hearing the silence after Jordan falls. My head is clouded with the adrenaline from the fight and the dismayed murmuring doesn’t reach me. The only things I notice are Jordan’s grotesquely twisted neck and the smell of cigarette smoke and medicinal cooling ointment. When I come to, Buzz is maneuvering me through several back rooms, his words raining down on me. You need to get out of here now! Screams erupt elsewhere. Jordan’s brothers. We’re gonna kill you! We’ll make you eat your guts! Murderer! Minutes pass before I realize Jordan is dead.

As I think about it, a tremor runs through me that has nothing to do with the chilly night. I shudder and pull my legs up against my body. “Back then, I just wanted to get away,” I say, staring at the darkened lakeshore as if there was something there that could ease my guilt. “Leave everything behind. Forget everything.”

Lou doesn’t stop looking at me. It’s almost as if our roles have been reversed. “What do you mean, everything?”

A part of me wants to get up and flee into the darkness of the forest, but then I remember that Lou deserves to know more. “The fighting, the life in the slums,” I finally answer, trying to be expressionless as I raise my head.

“You’re from the slums?”

You can see the effort she makes not to appear shocked, but I still don’t manage to keep acting so emotionlessly.

“Not really.” My voice is somber. “I fled there. And then I lived there for a few years, yes.”

“So, where are you from?”

“Los Angeles. I was only twelve when I managed to flee my home.” I think of the pounding ocean at the Santa Monica Pier and stupidly of Rhode Island, too. I quickly suppress the thought and go on talking: “I tried several times, but the police always picked me up. Eventually, I figured I would be safe in the slums. Even the cops don’t want to go into that neighborhood.”

“Safer—the slums?” Lou shakes her head so hard her hair whips her cheeks. “It’s like crossing a river when you can’t swim.”

“I see the parallel.” I force a laugh.

A long silence ensues as we stare at the moonlit lake and Lou warms her feet with her hands.

“So, what were those fights you were talking about?” she asks after a while. “Were they always about money?”

“Some kind of fight scout spotted me,” I say cheerily, thinking about the fight between the Bones and the Black Bloods, after which Buzz had approached me.

“A fight scout?”

“That is someone who secretly scouts out the strongest in gang-rivalry battles to hire for underground fights. It’s about money. A lot of money.” So much money that some are talked into fights they could never win. Young men like Jordan, for example. I grab a handful of pebbles and throw them into the water one by one. “There are no rules, similar to mixed martial arts fights. Everything is allowed except guns. But unlike mixed martial arts fights, the underground fights are illegal. There are no restrictions. The stakes are high and only the winner decides what happens to the loser.”

“What’s supposed to happen?” Lou wants to know, looking at me, confused.

“You mean besides the risk of dying during a fight?”

She nods and seems to come to shocking realizations. I almost regret telling her so much.

“There are a few practices that are popular.” I study her, then look out over the shimmering lake again. No, there are things I can’t tell her. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Have you ever lost?”

“Nope.”

“Never?”

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