Chapter 46th
It was as rare as it was brief – that surge of power, the heat of rage awakening my muscles into a destructive resolve. Night must have fully set in, because the air down there in the basement was so cold, it chilled my determination away.
I was hung by my wrists, eyes only half-open, to the ground, legs collapsed. My confinement companion picked a corner of his own to stare listlessly into, and that's how we were when the doorknob finally turned, and the wooden stairs creaked – slowly – under his descending weight.
We couldn't control our bodies then – no resolve, no promise, and no amount of preparing could have kept us from hyperventilating, our hearts from racing anew, our eyes from widening and obsessively measuring his approach; nor could we counterfeit a less terrified expression from entertaining him as he laid his hungry eyes on us…
He stopped by the last step to smile - at us, at our shared pitiful state. He looked pleased, optimistic, excited… something bad had happened to destroy any hopes we could have had! Or maybe that's just what he wanted us to think. Was he playing us? Was this part of the psychological torture Joe said he enjoyed? It must be – or at least I desperately clung to that idea.
"I'm afraid breaktime is over. Did you two have a nice time of it? I know I did!"
We both watched his movement with excessive caution, as he slowly paced down, around the banister, towards us.
"There has been a change of plans…" he announced mysteriously, teasing our disturbed brains into a frenzy. And though I tried to contain my increasing agitation, I found myself thrashing as if that's all it took to gain my freedom from those ropes – the vain effort made Chris laugh. "I see you're not so optimistic anymore. Nor should you be!"
A small flashlight slowly illuminating the dark, inch by inch, failing to reveal the bigger picture – that's how it felt, and my anguish grew. The cop across from me, too, stared, fully awake, fully aware… but when it became clear whom Chris moved towards, whose target rendered him so excited, the light of relief struck Joe's face and softened it undeniably – a brief, fleeting, primal relief flashed there when Chris's boots turned towards me and a single step brought him closer. I couldn't resent Joe for experiencing it though: I'd have felt the same for that split of a second when humanity fails us and we're nothing but coward beasts clawing for survival. That moment past, I too would have tried to plead, as he pleaded, if only to save face:
"No… Please… let her go!"
Chris ignored the appeal – first because it was far too weak, and second because he was far too content to care. He stood before me, I stood heaving under his shadow, controlling my eyes not to feed his with fear. He caressed my face, held my jaw, moved me around under his glare, as if he picked merchandise off the shelf. Dropping it to fall back, he touched my wrists – at once sore and numb – and then rudely tugged on the rope that hung them, releasing the knot.
As my arms fell, the ache in my shoulders inflamed and I whimpered in pain.
"What, hurting already?" Chris chuckled heartily, holding me as I collapsed against him. I repelled his touch as if it was disease-ridden, awkwardly pulling myself up again and supporting my weak frame against the wooden pillar. "We haven't even started! Surely you must be tougher than that!" he scowled playfully, failing to resist a smile.
His fingers touched my face, framing my cheeks "But don't look so scared: When adrenaline hits, you won't feel much at all – and you'll have plenty of that to go around!"
His confidence… his glad assuredness on the course this would go… it terrified me! When last we saw Chris, he was angry, troubled by my teasing words, possibly scared of what involving a cop in his nefarious plot would ensue. What had changed? What had he discovered? How had I been bested? I squeezed my hands into fists, I enjoyed the freedom of my arms and, though still bound by the wrists, I lunged at him with a punch!
Pathetic, feeble attempt! I punched the air between us, swirling in the process, losing my balance and collapsing against his chest, under his grip – his large, domineering grip… his hands on my body, securing it, owning it as he held me, his warm lips poised against my ear, as if he'd give it a kiss, but he only smiled – I felt them part against my skin as he did, victorious.
"You know… you almost had me there for a moment…"
I struggled, and when he let me go, I fell forward, against the pillar… I embraced it pathetically, as if part of me hoped I'd be bound there again, away from him!
"I almost believed you were without fear. I almost believed we were out of time…"
My breathing… I could not control it! Stupid, pathetic fear: Feeding him! Amusing him! I was disgusted, I was so angry at myself… and I knew I couldn't fight. Not just yet. Not when I was so tired… not when he was being so confident, not when he smiled as he did! I desperately sought to understand what had changed!
"…that I had lost my grip, and things had finally spiraled out of control!"
"T-they have!" I desperately clung to that. "You went too far!"
"No… I haven't." he smiled, his calm eyes peering into mine "It's all fine."
"You can't get away with this: With kidnapping a cop!"
"I can manage!"
I spiraled.
"You don't have the time…"
"There's plenty of time!" He smiled. "And I'm so glad I didn't listen to you, didn't yield and…" his eyebrow twitched lightly, replacing some somber word I was too scared to fathom "It would have been such a waste!" and his lips pulled back in an irresistible smirk. "We don't want that, do we?" He frowned lightly, the back of his hand framing my face as his inched closer, teasing the proximity with my lips. I squeezed my eyes tight, turned my face away, pursed my lips… felt his nose brush up my cheek, his lips plant a moist peck there. My knees faltered, half-folding under me, and I nearly fell. Chris held me and pushed me back up, then smiled at my helplessness.
He was so calm… so good-humored… I had to do something, to say something, anything to get back on that horse – on the high horse of being in an advantage against him:
"I… I lied."
Chris paused, watched me serenely for a second… once convinced I was worth listening to, he cocked his head and frowned.