Page 92 of In The Dark
“What?” The word comes out slurred. My tongue is heavy in my mouth. “You roofied me?”
“I had to. It’s the only way I’ll get that asshole off my tail. He knows about my past and who I really am. I’m going to have to kill him before he kills me, and the only way to do that is to use you as a pawn.”
I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions his past, and it’s impossible to sit upright. My head hurts. So do my limbs, and the room feels like it’s spinning.
“Why?” I whisper. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re the piece I need.” Brian stands and grabs the glass I’ve been drinking from the table, moving it to the sink. He rinses it out with soap and water before setting it in the dishwasher. “Close your eyes, Max, and go to sleep.”
THIRTY-TWO
MAX
The roomI’m in is dark, but I’m sitting on something soft.
A bed, maybe.
Or a comfy couch.
Is it my couch?
No. Definitely a bed. A bed that’s not my bed, and that’s alarming.
I open my eyes to take in my surroundings and wince at the pain radiating in my head. It feels like someone is hammering my skull and bashing it in repeatedly. When I try to sit up, I realize my hands are tied to an object I can’t see.
I can’t move. I’m bound, held against my will, and panic claws at me. I squirm on the bed, doing my best to piece together what’s happening to me. I dig into my memories, trying to pull the last couple of hours free, but I can’t. There’s nothing there, an empty black hole I can’t figure out, and my eyes prick with tears.
Think, Max.
There’s school. Vocabulary words and talking to Principal Sheehan.
But after that?
Not a single fucking thing.
Noise from outside the door leading out of whatever room I’m in makes the panic even more nerve-racking. My shoulders shake. My breath comes out rough and ragged, and taking a deep breath feels like I’m swallowing knives.
Knives.
Hunter?
No. This isn’t his room. I don’t smell him. I don’t feel him. I don’thearhim, the sounds of his movements something I’ve started to memorize.
This is somewhere I don’t want to be, and I will myself to calm down. To rationalize what’s happening so I can have a clear head, but it’s impossible.
Footsteps approach. Heavy, determined. A flicker of light appears under the sliver of the door. The handle turns, bathing the room in bright colors as Brian steps inside.
Brian?
“Good. You’re up.” He walks toward me, and I flinch. There’s a flash, a grainy recollection of a glass of water. Feeling very tired. He laughs when I try to get away from him and rips a piece of tape away from my mouth. I try to scream, but my throat is dry. “Why so jumpy, Max? It’s just me.”
He reaches behind me. Now that I can breathe better, I can think clearer. My hands are tied to the headboard, but my feet…
My feet are free.
I am not fucking dying today.
I have too much to live for: my job. The kids I teach. Skyler and her warm and wonderful hugs.
