Page 238 of Soul So Dark
Seconds later, I’m laughing so hard that I can barely stand up, my eyes glossing over the Christmas lights shining outside the frosty picture window.
“Easy, Killer,” a deep voice cuts in, and I grab a fistful of their shirt as I stumble to the side.
I recognize the house, with its hardwood paneling and bronze picture lights showcasing all the original artwork along the walls. I know the people who live in this house. I’ve been here more times than I can count. I didn’t even have to lie to my mom about where I was going tonight.
I’m standing in the hallway now. The lights are off, but I can see everyone in the distance, milling back and forth between the kitchen and living room. Someone’s standing close, so close that I can smell the clean, familiar bite of their body wash. And as soon as I turn back to them, their lips assault mine with ferocity. But I don’t think I mind.
My eyes flutter open and I try to focus. I think I’m looking at the wall, but it’s still dark. Suddenly, I roll onto my back, across the soft surface beneath me. I try to look around, but I can’t move. My muscles feel like Jell-O, like I’m lying in quicksand. I lift my arm, but it only moves a few inches before my fingers hit something. I think it’s an arm, confirmed only when I hear the familiar voice above me.
“Is she awake?”
I blink a few times, but my vision blurs as a hand squeezes my jaw and holds my head steady.
A different voice drifts in and out. “I cut the dose…her size...don’t need a dead girl...”
I open my mouth and try to speak, but nothing comes out except a faint grunt. He releases my face and takes my wrist, pressing it down next to my head. I try to pull it away, but my strength is gone.
“You’re fine.”
I know his voice, but my head is swimming and I can’t focus enough to remember who it is. The last thing I hear is the voice I don’t recognize.
“Have fun…”
A door opens, shuts again, and everything goes black.
???
My temple is pulsing like a metronome, each beat bringing me closer to consciousness. I know this feeling, the one where I’m having a good dream, but it won’t end when I open my eyes. And now I just want to wake up so I can see Alex’s face and feel him fuck me back to life.
I’m getting closer, and at first, I can’t tell whether my eyes are open or closed. Is it still night? In the dim light, I can make out a wall made of wood planks that stretch too high for me to even see. Then I realize I can’t move my head. And I’m definitely not in my bed.
The dirt floor comes into focus and shadows crawl up the ceiling like demons out of my nightmares. Am I kneeling? There’s something around my neck, holding it in place, and I can’t move my hands. Now I feel claustrophobic, like I’m slowly being strangled. Thick straps dig into my wrists when I try to jerk away.
I’m naked. I start hyperventilating. And then I start screaming. I’m awake now, my eyes darting around as I try to figure out where I am. But my head is a chaotic jumble, and even though every muscle is screaming, I can’t move an inch. I can only look straight ahead, my neck strapped to a metal apparatus with my wrists bound in front of me. I’m on my stomach, my waist secured similarly with my legs straddling it like some medieval sawhorse. My position doesn’t hurt, per se, almost like it was constructed for this purpose. And that fills me with immense dread.
Every limb starts trembling as a shadow appears in my periphery. I don’t know if I want to even see who my assailant is. But then I realize I already have…standing at my car, waiting for me after the Rickhouse.
Austin crouches down in front of me, tossing his sandy hair out of his eyes. It’s longer, disheveled, but his caramel irises and sharp jawline are exactly as I remember. Except, now, a menacing shadow lingers behind them. I flinch as he reaches out and brushes my thick curtain of hair out of my bleary eyes, the sweat glistening on his bare chest as his sneakers scuff the dirt beneath me.
“Hey, Dallas,” he grins.
My gaze shifts from his radiant smile to the phone in his other hand, pointing straight at me.
“What—” I cough the phlegm out of my throat, “what are you doing?” I ask with a pathetic sob.
His smile evaporates into a loathsome smirk. “About to find out what you fuck like when you’re conscious.”
Game over.
Images flash through my mind at warp speed. It’s not such a distant and fragmented memory anymore. Winter break. Austin’s house. Did I drink too much? I only had one. There was another guy…Austin’s cousin…Trey.The blood and the pain the next day…
I have to get out of here. I have to find a way out, but I can’t even move.
“Why are you doing this, Austin?” I shout, tugging at the leather straps buckled around my wrists.
It’s almost like I’ve asked this question before, but not of him.
“Because, Dallas,” he drags his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the tears, “you don’t fucking listen, even to the people who care about you. I told you that you’d get in trouble messing around with strangers on the Internet. How much do you think your fans would pay to see you learn your lesson?”
