Page 13 of The Darkness Within

“An hour?” Just when I think he’s about to slam the door in my face, he crosses his arms over his wide chest, his lips spreading into a slow smile.

“Okay, deal, but you owe me a favor.”

“Anything. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I’ll remember you said that. There’s a pot of coffee on. Drink it. You look like you need it.”

Mandy grabs his tool bag and strolls next door, still holding the hammer. Awkwardly, I walk into his space, not knowing what to do with myself, or where to sit, and hesitant to touch his things. It’s not my home. By the grace of God, he went along with this scam, probably because he’s a good guy. A better one than I am.

Who isn’t?

An hour later, Liza pulls out of the parking lot, and I shut the front door and breathe a sigh of relief. Either she didn’t notice I was high, or she chose not to say anything. She did, however, point out I’ve lost too much weight, and that I look like shit. I feel completely exhausted, both mentally and physically, by the time I open the door to my apartment.

“You borrowed my apartment to entertain some chick?”

Mandy sits upon the countertop in my kitchen, with his arms crossed over his wide chest.

“No, it’s not like that,” I say with a tired sigh, raking my hand through my hair. “Liza’s just a friend. What were you doing, spying on us?”

Mandy scoffs. “Please, I saw her leave. You have no curtains on these fucking windows. In fact, you have nothing in this entire apartment! What the hell is going on here? What kind of weird shit are you up to?”

I just don’t have the energy to sort this out right now. But one thought makes my heart beat faster. “You didn’t go into the bedroom, did you?”

He jumps off the counter, looking wary. “Dude, that’s it. I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

“Wait, Mandy.”

“Talk to me in the hallway.” I follow him out the door, and he turns to me, handing me the shovel. “Here, you left this in your wall.”

“Thank you. For fixing it, and for switching with me, and for just being… Understanding.”

“Understanding? I don’t understand any of this. What I understand is that you’re going through a hard time and you could use a friend, and I hope that’s me. But don’t forget, you owe me a favor. In the meantime, if you need anything, toilet paper, food, Wi-Fi, just knock on my door.”

He’s gone, leaving me standing here staring at his closed door, and I shuffle back inside in a daze, dropping the shovel on the counter and grabbing the bottle of pills. The rest of my Saturday is spent in bed, in and out of consciousness.

Day 10 of captivity

The smell of his rotting flesh was enough to turn my stomach, if there were anything of it left to turn, but it was empty from hunger. We spent most of our time sitting side-by-side in silence, sometimes lying down, or just leaning against each other. Sometimes, we talked. In the silence, I could hear the scurrying of tiny feet, the high-pitched squeak of rats or mice. God only knew what else was down here with us. Scorpions? Most likely.

Gutierrez whimpered constantly. I wasn’t even sure if he was aware he was doing it. Sometimes, he reached for my hand in the darkness, just needing something solid and warm to hold on to. Other times, he beat his head against the packed dirt wall, and I had to hold him still.

Raised voices echoed down the hall, and my entire body tensed, knowing they were coming for us.

What now?

One guard held a lantern and the other a bowl. I had no idea what was in it, but I knew I wanted it more than I wanted my next breath. Wordlessly, they grabbed the back of Gutierrez’s head, holding him up while shoving the bowl against his lips. He drank greedily, spilling most of it down his chin, and then they did the same to me, grabbing a fistful of my hair as they held my head back, pouring the rest of the bitter broth down my throat. I barely had time to swallow before choking on it.

Then they pulled us to our feet and pushed us out into the hallway. Gutierrez wailed, and I could only imagine the pain he was in, having to walk on his ruined foot. I’d bet it wasn’t numb any longer, unless the fire was shooting up his leg.

The guards led us to a room lit up by battery-powered lamps. There were two chairs positioned in the middle, and I knew they had our names on them.

They pushed us down onto the chairs and stood across from us, holding a camera aimed right at our faces. A guard I hadn’t seen before handed me a piece of paper.

“Read. Read.”

Scanning the words written in a crude hand, I was able to piece together the gist of the message, even if it wasn’t too clear.

Name

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