I wake up to the sound of my own screaming. A dark room,
with a single flickering light bulb in the center. I'm tied in, ropes around my
arms, stuck to a chair, someone on the other side of me. The hair on my neck
isn't my own. My hands are still shaking, and I'm looking for my uncle's next
punch but it never comes. I take some deep breaths, try to calm the shaking of
my hands, soothe the flame growing inside, and fight the shadows at the edges
of my vision. If I give into the shadows and fire now, I may never come back.
"Hello," I call out and get nothing but an
echo.
"Glad you're finally up," I hear Ci-Ci's voice
from behind me.
"Are you okay? I'm sorry. I just couldn't stop
him."
"What are you talking about?"
"My uncle, he beat you."
"Oh, we got caught up in a trap. Illusionary
magic," she sighs.
"I don't know what that is."
"So when we opened the box we triggered a spell, or
a rune in this case I guess. Once broken it covered us an illusion shroud. What
it does is put us in a trance like state," Ci-Ci calmly explains.
"And our bodies? Why aren't we hurt?"
"Our bodies are right where we left them, completely
unharmed unless a lot of time passes. Then we could have died of starvation or
he could have slit our throats. But he just tied us up. Our minds are wherever
the user wants to send us, the spell warps our senses and makes it all seem
real to us. Sounds like Jonah sent us to some of our deepest fears or in your
case it sounds more like a trauma. So your uncle didn't beat me, and you
weren't devoured by the undead."
“I need a shot of whiskey.”
“We need to kill Jonah,” she responds.
“I just need to get out of here first.”
“Burn through the ropes. I can take the heat.”
“Why would you think I could just burn through the ropes?”
“Because you’re a dark elf. Every dark elf can control
and conjure flames.”
“That’s racist, and I don’t have any magic.”
“Are you serious,” she seems legitimately shocked.
“Have you seen me use magic? Even once?”
“I thought you just preferred to use guns.”
“I don’t even own a gun. I’m a journalist, not some mercenary.”
“That doesn’t explain why you don’t have magic.”
“Because elven magic circulates through the blood, and my
blood is full of drugs,” I don’t even know if that’s how magic works. Nobody
ever taught me.
“Is it all the fairy dust? I found it all over your apartment.”
“You shouldn’t be snooping. I didn’t go snooping around
the palace of pain you call a home.”
“Palace of pain? You must be a journalist because that
was sensationalist. Then again, could be that you’re just a drug addict.”
I don’t bother arguing with her. It won’t help me get free,
just let her have the last word. She wouldn’t listen to what I had to say anyway.
I can hear the walking above me. We’re likely in the basement. Why does every
house in the Midwest need a basement? Nothing good ever happens in a strange
basement. Time is running out, and I’m still not over being confronted with my childhood
traumas. Even knowing they weren’t real. I suppose it does help in this situation.
It’s been years since I last did it, but I learned to do
it long ago. After being beaten so many times I learned it would stop if I just
broke something. Eventually I learned to dislocate my shoulders on command. I
bite down on my bottom lip, enough to draw blood and bring tears to my eyes but
I feel my shoulders fall, dead to me for a moment. It doesn’t take long to wiggle
my arms free from the ropes.
“What are you doing,” Ci-Ci asked.
“Getting out of here,” I struggle to pop my shoulders
back.
“Hurry up and untie me. He’s coming this way.”
The ropes are tight, but I manage to get her free and we
rush to hide beneath the staircase. The door opens and footsteps shake the
wooden steps into the basement. Jonah notices we’re missing right away. Ci-Ci signals
for me to stay still as she sneaks from our hiding spot. I don’t have a choice
but to trust her, I’m defenseless here.
She sneaks up behind Jonah and pierces his knees from
behind. He screams as he falls and I take that as my opportunity to run. I
catch a glimpse of her stabbing him in the back before making it to the top of
the stairs. I search frantically for the keys. There’s still daylight, he won’t
chase us outside. He doesn’t want pay the fees associated with it. At least I
can hope he won’t. I grab the keys and catch Ci-Ci limping up the stairs. She’s
got several of the razor like blades sticking out from her back and leg.
I drape her arm over my shoulder and together we limp out
the front door. I lay her across the backstreet and start the car. In a horror
movie this is when the car doesn’t start. I guess something did go right for us
today. I pull out onto the road and glance in the rear-view mirror. Bloody but
grinning Jonah waited on his porch, watching us drive away.
I’ve got what I came here for, but I don’t think this is
over now. He’s seen me, and he knows I know about him. My wallet is still in my
pocket, but did he take a peak? Does he know where I live? Does he even care? I
thought it would be done when I got my proof for the article. Now I have to see
this through to the conclusion and the only thing that can beat him is the passed-out
woman in my back seat.
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