Page 9 of Watch Me Turn
Then he's on his feet, wobbling but upright. At first, I think he's going to try and kill me again, which would be stupid, but then I realize he's examining the walls with a manic look in his eyes, his face inches from the brick as he runs his hands along the bumpy surfaces looking for...what exactly?
He mutters to himself as he sways. "There has to be a way out of here. There has to be."
"Easy there, cowboy," I say, setting my book down on the coffee table and watching him bolster himself against the wall. "I left the restraints off so you'd be more comfortable, but I'm serious about you getting hurt."
The red telephone in the corner catches his eye, and for a fleeting moment he looks hopeful. He picks up the receiver and jabs at the buttons frantically, a small smile threatening to break through on his face. A few attempts later, when he's met with nothing but static, he throws the thing at the wall and gives up.
I replace the handset and let out a heavy sigh. "Stop trying to destroy everything, please. There's no point. You're in thisfor the long haul. There's no exit, and that phone only dials one number, and it's not the one you want right now."
He ignores me, moving along the perimeter of the room with his hand trailing the exposed brick wall. When he reaches the kitchenette, he opens up the drawers and cabinets one by one. Grasping for the contents, pulling them out and examining them before letting them clatter to the ground. A chrome soup ladle, an unused potato ricer, a pair of unblemished ceramic salt and pepper shakers trail behind him.
It strikes me as odd that these very human items should be in a place for vampires, but perhaps the folks that built and decorated this place were mortal, adding flourishes of home comforts without ever knowing the true intention of what would happen in these four walls.
I pick up a spatula and jab it toward him. "You're wasting your very limited energy. Trust me, you're going to need it for what comes next."
"There's always a way out," he says, his voice tight. "Every prison has an exit."
"This isn't a prison. It's a?—"
"It's a fucking prison if I can't leave!"
He's got me on that one.
He shoves past me to the bathroom and starts banging around in there, tearing into cabinets and making a mess I'll no doubt have to clean up later. He's getting more agitated, which means another fever spike is coming. I can see it in the flush creeping up his neck, the way his movements are becoming jerky and awkward.
He's in there for about a minute, and when he's exhausted all his options, he stumbles out and turns his attention upward. That's when he spots it—the small air vent near the ceiling, with a grate covering it.
His eyes lock onto it like he's found the Holy Grail.
"No," I say.
"I could fit through that."
"You absolutely could not fit through that."
He's already dragging a leather armchair toward the wall, determination overriding the weakness in his limbs. I should stop him, but honestly? Let him try and fail. Maybe it'll tire him out and he'll sleep for the rest of the day. Watching him has become like babysitting an over-stimulated toddler raised on a diet of red M&Ms and banned video games. His attention span is nonexistent, and I'm desperate for some peace.
"Angel, that vent is like eight inches wide."
"I'm very flexible." He climbs onto the chair, swaying dangerously.
"You're very delusional."
He reaches up, fingers scrabbling at the grate. It's screwed in tight, and even if he could remove it, even if he could somehow dislocate every bone in his body and squeeze through?—
"What are you going to do?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Squeeze your way out of there? Crawl through the ventilation system like you're John McClane?"
"If I have to." He's pulling at the grate now, nails scraping metal.
"And go...where? You're deep underground. Far away from home. And you're turning into a vampire, so you know, sunlight's going to be an issue in a few days."
"I'll figure it out," he grumbles.
"Besides, if you get hurt, I don't get paid." I stand behind him and awkwardly hover my hands around his waist to steady him. "So I'm going to do everything within my power to stop you from doing anything stupid. Including this."
He flinches at my touch and freezes, but after a very brief standoff he nods and lets me help him down from the chair. He slings an arm over my shoulder to steady himself but muttersa string of curses under his breath as he limps back toward the bed. Even through our clothes I can feel the raging fire under his skin. He's somehow even hotter than he was yesterday.
Shit.
