Assassins: Slow Agony Part 33

He turned to look at me. His expression was haggard. "We'll get out of here." But his voice was bland, and I knew he didn't believe it.

I tested the ropes that bound my hands. They were strong, and they dug into my wrist. Still, maybe if I could find something that was sharp enough, I could cut through them. I glanced around the bas.e.m.e.nt again, searching. There had to be something. Maybe amongst those boxes over there.

Of course, I couldn't walk because my ankles were tied up.

I looked at Griffin. His eyes were closed. Why wasn't he doing anything? He was the trained a.s.sa.s.sin here. He had to have some idea of how to get out of a situation like this. But Marcel had hurt him before and the specter of that memory had frozen him. I had to help him.

But how could I do that? I didn't know what to do against this madman that held us captive. I didn't have the knowledge or the skills. I felt terrified and vulnerable. Here I was in this cold, dank bas.e.m.e.nt, shivering and naked under the thin blanket wrapped around my body. I was tired and used up, just as much as Griffin. We'd been running for so long. If he was giving up, then how could I do anything?

Griffin's fears were amplified because of what Marcel had done to him in the past. I needed to be just a tiny bit stronger because I hadn't been abused by this man before. I needed to dig down...

Stay sharp. We're going to need it.

I took a deep breath. Okay, I was the sharp one. What could we do to get out of these ropes?

Suddenly, it seemed obvious.

"Griffin, we need to get back to back."

"It's not going to be warmer that way, doll. I know you're cold. I can see you shivering. But we're just going to have to do the best we can to handle it."

"No," I said. "Not for warmth. To get free. If we can sit back to back, we might be able to untie each other's ropes."

His eyes widened. "Good thinking. Let's try it."

It took a lot of maneuvering to get in the right positions, but eventually, I was able to feel around and find Griffin's ropes. The knots were very tight, but my fingers were small and deft. I was pretty sure I could get the knot undone. It was just going to take time. I'd have to be patient.

I set to work at once, keeping up a constant steady stream of chatter while I did so. I told Griffin all about my cla.s.ses from the spring semester and about people we both knew in Thomas. I needed to fill in the emptiness with something. I needed to keep us feeling like we had normal lives. I needed to do it, because it made me feel like there was hope.

But Griffin's fingers weren't working as eagerly on my knots as mine were on his.

After I finished telling him all about how our mutual acquaintance Bobby Aaron had dropped all his cla.s.ses except one and would be back in the fall, starting his seventh year at school, Griffin sighed. "I'm not going to be able to get this untied."

"But we've barely even started trying," I said.

"My fingers are too big and the knots are too small."

"Keep trying." My fingers were busy at his knots. I couldn't be sure, but I thought that I was definitely making progress.

Griffin's fingers brushed the insides of my wrists. They went still. "When he cut off your clothes... I thought he was going to rape you in front of me. I-I thought..."

I stopped working at the knots too. I had been afraid as well. And if that had happened, it I'd been violated that way, would I have been able to function afterwards? I couldn't think about it. "He didn't."

"I couldn't get away from them," he said. "There you were, right there, so close. I could see you were afraid, and I couldn't-"

"Baby, I don't blame you. I'm okay. Let's concentrate on the knots, all right?" I picked at a particularly stubborn one with my fingernail.

"That's what he does to me," said Griffin. "He makes me helpless."

"You aren't helpless," I said. "You can untie me. We can get out of here."

But Griffin didn't move. "He's going to kill us both. He's going to kill you, and he's going to make me watch."

"No," I said. "That's not what's going to happen. We're going to get free." And, as if to punctuate my point, I loosened the knot on Griffin's wrist. Two tugs, and he was untied. "See?"

"You did it." He was amazed.

I could hear him shifting behind me, turning so that he was facing the knots. He started to work on the knots at my wrists again.

We were both quiet for a bit. I wished I could help him, but I couldn't reach my own knots. I chewed on my lip, trying not to make any noise when he pulled on the rope, and it bit painfully into my skin.

He worked at it for a long time.

Outside, we could see that it was getting darker. Night was coming. It made the bas.e.m.e.nt even gloomier.

"Doll, I can't," he finally said.

"Well, maybe if you could get your feet untied, then you could find something in the bas.e.m.e.nt that you could use to cut me free?"

"Maybe." I heard him shift again.

And then the bas.e.m.e.nt door opened.

We could hear the sounds of several people on the steps, and then Marcel and two of the men came into view. One of the men was carrying a drill. The other held several packages of padlocks.

They went to work installing them on the outside of the bas.e.m.e.nt door.

Marcel came over to us, brandishing his switchblade. He cut the ropes holding me. When he noticed that Griffin's hands were free, he laughed.

Apparently, he'd only intended to tie us up until he could secure the bas.e.m.e.nt door. With the padlocks on the outside, ropes were no longer necessary.

Marcel cupped Griffin's face with one hand. "Might as well f.u.c.k her while you've got the chance, huh?"

Griffin lunged for Marcel, but when he moved he dislodged his blanket.

Marcel sneered. "Gonna wrestle me naked, Griffin?"

Griffin gathered the blanket around himself.

Still laughing, Marcel backed away.

He and the men retreated to the top of the house.

We could hear them tramping around upstairs, laughing and talking.

"Why did he take our clothes?" I said.

"Because people feel vulnerable without them," said Griffin. He leaned up against the concrete wall, closing his eyes. "f.u.c.k it, we are vulnerable."

I wrapped the blanket tight around me and tiptoed over to the bas.e.m.e.nt door. It was a wooden door with four small panels of gla.s.s set in its center. I rubbed at the grimy window, trying to get a look at the three padlocks they'd installed outside.

"It's not going to work, doll."

"What if we broke the window?"

"How are we going to get those padlocks off?"

He was probably right. The panes of gla.s.s were too small for us to wriggle through. That door wasn't the way out. I climbed the steps instead and tried the door there. Near as I could tell, there wasn't a padlock on the other side of it, but it was locked as well. There was something about this door that Naomi had told me. What was it? I rattled the k.n.o.b, trying to force the answer from my brain.

But I couldn't remember, so I came back downstairs.

Wrapping my blanket tight around me, I curled up next to Griffin, holding onto him tightly. He didn't hold me back.

Marcel seemed to think it would be fine for us to use the grate in the bas.e.m.e.nt for a bathroom. The hose was down there too, so at least I could rinse the smell away. But it was disgusting and barbaric. I was going to kill this man. But first I had to get Griffin away before Marcel shattered him completely.

I seemed to have stopped bleeding. I supposed that was another gift from the serum, because I was pretty sure that a miscarriage, even one as early as mine, should last longer than a couple of days. I was glad, because it was easier to deal with everything without having the inconvenience and pain of the blood. It was also good not to have the constant reminder of what I'd lost.

I couldn't think about it now, even though I was far from over it. When we got away, when Griffin was safe, when Marcel was dead... then I'd grieve. I didn't have the luxury now.

I watched Griffin, who was huddled against the wall. He hadn't said anything in hours, but we'd both been awake since the sun came up. He kept his eyes open, but they were empty. I was losing him, and I didn't know what to do about it. How could I get him to wake up, to fight?

When I figured out how we were going to get out of here, I'd need him to do his part.

Oh, h.e.l.l. Maybe I was lying to myself. Maybe we weren't going to get out of there.

I shivered. I couldn't think that. I couldn't.

One man was holding me, and my blanket was slipping. I couldn't push it back up, because I didn't have use of my arms. It was sliding down, nearly exposing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. If struggled, it would fall even further, so I stayed still. I was angry.

Marcel was kneeling next to Griffin, who was still sitting on the floor, staring into s.p.a.ce. If Griffin noticed that I was being held down, he didn't let on.

"We know each other pretty well, wouldn't you say, Griffin?" Marcel's voice was quiet and amiable. He didn't sound like a monster, and that made him even more monstrous somehow. I wanted to leap on him and claw his eyes out.

Griffin didn't answer.

Marcel grabbed Griffin's shoulder.

He flinched away. His eyes flashed.

Marcel's tone grew harsher. "Don't we?"

"If you say so," Griffin said.

"We have a past. We have a history, you and me." Marcel's voice was soft again. "I know things about you that no one else knows. And you've done things for me. Intimate things-"

Griffin turned on him. "We aren't in jail, anymore, Marcel. You trying to admit to me that you prefer d.i.c.ks over chicks? Well, I always suspected."

Marcel rocked back on his heels. "Shouldn't talk like that to me, Griffin."

"You're going to kill me anyway, right?" said Griffin. "What do I care?"

Marcel stood up. He strode over to me.

I glared at him.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed my chin. "Bet he doesn't have the slightest idea what to do with you, does he?"

"You know," said Griffin, "near as I can see, I'm the only person here with a girlfriend, so if you're trying to convince me you're not gay-"

Marcel dug his fingers into my throat, and I cried out.

"If you want me to keep hurting her, by all means, keep talking, Griffin."

Griffin hung his head.

Marcel let go of me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I could get through this. I could be strong. Griffin needed me.

"It was never about that, and you know it, Griffin," said Marcel. "It wasn't about anything as pedestrian as s.e.x. That's not what I want."

I opened my eyes. Marcel was kneeling down next to Griffin again. Griffin wasn't looking at him.

"What I want," said Marcel in his soft voice, "is to get inside here." He tapped Griffin's forehead. "I want to own you."

Griffin looked disgusted. And terrified.

"I used to. You remember?"

"No," said Griffin.

"No, you don't remember, or no, I didn't own you?"

"You didn't own me." Griffin was whispering, but he was somehow defiant.

"I'd argue with you," said Marcel, getting to his feet, "tell you that I did, but I think you might be right. I think maybe you kept something back." He strode back and forth. "You got yourself right in the middle of that fight, didn't you?" He stopped and turned to Griffin. "You were trying to escape. Escape to the hospital, escape to death, I don't think it mattered to you. You wanted away from me."

Griffin swallowed.

"You shouldn't have been able to want that," said Marcel. "If I'd owned you the way I should, you wouldn't have wanted anything except what I wanted you to want."

I was horrified. How sick was this man? He was completely insane.

"You see, that was why I liked you so much in the beginning," said Marcel. "You thought it was because you were young and soft and girly, didn't you?"