LIFE’S A BITCH, AND THEN you die.
I feel like that saying fits me pretty well right about now. When planning out my dreams and goals, I seem to have failed to add in being kidnapped, tortured by a lunatic, and tied to a chair in the middle of the woods. I thought my biggest struggle was living in a home where money was scarce. The hardships of having to manage on one income. I wasn’t spoiled with all the newest trends. My outfits were mostly hand-me-downs from family friends, and I just didn’t shine like most kids at school. I learned from a young age if I wanted something, I was going to have to work hard to get it. I always labeled myself as a go-getter. A self-starter. I busted my ass, turned down dates and social gatherings—okay, maybe those were never put on the table—but I sacrificed those so-called things to make sure I rose above.
Basically, I spent my entire adolescence holed up in my house like a bookworm all so I could die at the hands of a psychopath.
I’m not sure what time it is. It’s still dark. And thankfully, I still have my face and all its parts in place. Just as Sylvia was about to rearrange my nose with the log, I convinced her blood splatter would ruin her pretty dress and Damien hates blood. Loathes it. Luckily, for me, that swayed her to drop it. The bad thing, she left immediately after to change because naughty Jake may have gotten some on her clothes. So that leaves just me and possibly dead Jake stuck in the woods.
“Jake?” I whisper his name, but nothing. “Jake!” I yell this time, but he doesn’t budge. The heebie-jeebies quickly set in at the thought of a dead person just inches away from me. I start to have trouble breathing. “Don’t panic. Don’t panic.” I’m totally starting to panic. I open my mouth to start screaming bloody murder when Sylvia reappears.
“Jesus, where did you go! You can’t just leave me here tied up with a dead guy!” I snap. When she comes into better focus, I notice she’s changed. “Dude, are you wearing my green dress?”
She smiles and spins like goddamn Cinderella wearing the dress Damien bought me on the first night of our arrangement. “It looks way better on me, don’t you think?” She does another twirl. She’s been in my room. In my closet. And how has no one found me? This is not looking good for me. I’m hungry, weak. My running ability has diminished terribly since I can barely feel my ass from being stuck in this chair for so long. Not to mention my horrible headache.
“Sylvia, don’t you think you’re taking this too far? I mean, hoes before bros, girl. Let’s talk about this. He’s just not that into you.”
Okay, so maybe the reason I don’t have many girlfriends is because I suck at the whole girl bonding thing. I basically agree to my own reasoning, because she comes at me and slaps me across the face. “Ouch! What was that for?”
“For being such a poor sport. You’re supposed to tell me how beautiful I look.”
Maybe I should ask her where her pills are and suggest she take the whole bottle. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right. You look amazing. Wow, I looked like a fat, ugly cow in it. Good thing you’re gonna do us all a favor. I think Damien is going to just…wow, yeah…go nuts for you in that.”
Her smile is so cuckoo and bright, it may just light the entire woods. It also makes me realize I’ve been taking the wrong approach. “So, what do you think you’ll say to him once he finds me dead and you’re there to save him? I bet he’s gonna be so happy to see you. Now that I think about it, he did tell me once he has a thing for blondes.” The words are sour coming out of my mouth.
“Oh my God, really? You think so?” She comes at me again, but instead of slapping me like a bitch, she kneels in front of me. “He would never be happy with someone like you. I can fulfill anything he wants.”
“Oh, I agree, girl. This is a much better idea.” God, she’s nuts. Her smile is telling me she is actually feeding into all of this nonsense. “I wish you two the best. You know he did mention you when I was with him, thinking even more about it. It pains me to admit this, but he did say he couldn’t love me, but someone like Sylvia, he saw a future with.”
Her eyes twinkle. “He did?”
“Yeah. You didn’t even need to do all this. You see, he actually broke up with me just before. Telling me I wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted you.”
She squeals and stands. She dances around the wooded area, with no care of the possible dead guy on the ground.
“So, what do you say you let me go? I’ll just disappear, and you two can live happily ever after!” I smile, like we’re two besties who just made a cute little pact to play nice.
She turns, smiling. Yes! I did it. She’s going to let me go.
“Not a chance, freakshow. I’d love to, but you see, your ugly face is all over campus now. Seems someone cares you’re missing. That’s a problem for me.”
“There is? Is it a good picture, at least? I was never good at school pictures. Senior year, I had—”
“Shut up!”
When a crazed sorority sister tells you to shut up, you do. I zip my lips. Time is running out. She’s quickly falling back into her mental zone. She starts pacing. She reaches for her purse, and when she pulls back, there’s a knife in her hands. “Um, what do you plan on doing with that?” I ask, feeling pretty fucking nervous.
“I need to get rid of you. But blood. He doesn’t like blood. I need to think.” She’s back to pacing. I’m back to panicking. I need to get out of this. I was a Girl Scout for seven embarrassing years, it had to have taught me better survival skills than how to start a damn fire or what berries not to eat. Think, Jensen!
Then it hits me.
“Hey, Sylvia, I have an idea.”
She turns to me, curious. “What’s that?”
It’s now or never.
“I get it. I have to die.” My eyes widen as she nods in agreement. God, fuckin’ nutso. “Yeah…um, so we know Damien doesn’t like blood, so you can’t get dirty. I have a great idea. How about we use some of that rope over there and maybe I hang myself? No blood. I’m dead, you live happily ever after.” That was the most morbid thing I’ve ever suggested. And creepiest, since Sylvia’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.
“Oh, that is a fantastic idea!” She swings the knife, and I do a little dance in my chair, avoiding any too close lashings.
“So, how about I help you, and you help me?”
There goes that smile. “And how would I help you?”
“Well, you might need help making a noose. Girl Scout champion over here. If you grab that rope over there, I can help you, but you would need to untie my hands to do so.” She stares at me in question as we sit in limbo—this could be the moment my life may go on, or she sees through my lies and just stabs me and does another outfit change. What feels like forever passes before she finally speaks. “Okay, fine. But no funny business. Tie the noose, then it’s night-night for you.”
“Got it.” I nod.
Smiling, she walks behind me and starts cutting off the rope around my wrists. I wince a few times as she nicks me. Once I feel my hands are free, I bring them forward. The pain from being stuck in that position for so long is worse than the gash in my head. My muscles restrict, and the tingly feeling causes a wave of nausea.
“You better not get sick on me.”
“Nope. Not getting sick. Just gonna get up and grab that rope.” I feel the knife stick me in the back, and I yelp. “Ouch!”
“Try anything and you’re dead.”
“Yep. Got it.” I try to stand, but fall and meet the dirt. “Shit,” I groan. My legs are almost numb, not to mention the swelling in my ankle. I roll over and sit up. I guess trying to make a run for it is out of the question.
“Get up. I don’t have much time. Damien is probably wondering where I am.”
Same here. I hope. I laugh, not sure why. Maybe I’m losing it just like Sylvia already has. I use all my strength to lift my body and limp over to the rope. I have to step over Jake, which makes my skin crawl. I try not to cry, because even though he was a douche and on his way to Nutsoville alongside Sylvia, I wouldn’t want him dead.
Sylvia, on the other hand, skips over him with ease, keeping right on my tail. My nerves cause me to trip over my own two feet, and I fall again, cutting my knee on a rock. I moan at the pain, but Sylvia takes no pity on me.
“Get up. You’re stalling.” No, actually, I’m just trying to enjoy my last moments alive. I push off and get back to my feet. A few grueling steps later, and I’m down on the ground, grabbing the rope. “Now, do your thing. Then we can tie you up to a tree. You don’t mind also taking the blame for Jake, right? We’ll call it a love gone bad murder-suicide.” She giggles like a five-year-old child. I know if I don’t make a move soon, I may miss my opportunity. I wouldn’t put it past her to forget our plan and just start sawing my head off.
I inhale a slow, deep breath, silently praying for the strength I’m going to need, and reach for the rope. Wrapping my fingers tightly along the flow of the braiding, I lift it slowly, as if I’m going to begin working it into a bow. “Shit, I don’t think this is going to work. Look at it.”
Sylvia bends forward, leaning her head over my shoulder to inspect the rope. “Why not?” Distracted by the rope, I catch her off guard. I twist around and slam her in the head with the rope.
I don’t do as much damage as I hope. I’m weaker than I thought, but it at least throws her off her axis. She stumbles back, falling into a pile of dirt. Her screech almost deafens me, but I get up, ready to run. “You bitch!” she yells, whipping the knife at me. I try to block it, but it still makes its mark, slashing the side of my forearm. One would think my pain tolerance should be pretty high right now, but this one takes the cake. I yelp as blood begins to seep from my arm.
“You’re so dead for this!” She’s up and coming at me faster than I have time to react. I assume she’s no longer worried about getting her—or should I say my—dress dirty since she tackles me. I try to guard myself from any further injuries but fail. Every single part of my body hurts. We wrestle until she somehow gets on top. Her hand starts to lash, taking swing after swing at my already injured head. I can’t stop the waves of dizziness. Fuck, this isn’t going well. A few more hits and I’m going to pass out.
Do something, Jensen.
I suck in a deep breath, and with every ounce of strength I have, I flip her. She goes flying, and I swing my body on top of hers. I take my fist and punch her in the face. I moan at my own pain as the cut in my arm tears wider. I just need to get away from her so I can run. I need to run.
I take another swing at her, but I forgot about the object laying right next to her. The one she picks up and slashes me right in the thigh with. I scream in agony and fall to the side. When I realize my head hits a body, I turn and see Jake’s face staring back at me.
I scream so loud, Mars can hear. Sheer panic hits me. I’m going to die. I’m bleeding from all sorts of places, I can barely see straight, and Sylvia is simply not gonna let it go that I dirtied our dress.
Fight through it. You have to fight through it.
That’s a lot easier for you to say, conscience. You’re just in my mind. I’m the one who has to do all the physical stuff.
Okay, I must already be dying because I’m arguing with myself right now. With nothing left to lose, I scramble to my feet and start running. I have no idea in what direction, but I push my legs to move. Sylvia’s screams are close. Too close. I can’t do this. The throbbing pain from my head and cut is too severe. Tears pour down my cheeks from the overwhelming sense of defeat. I thought I could push myself, but I’m too hurt. My ankle gives out, snapping to the side, and I fall, screaming the whole way down. I roll on my back, so I can defend myself from the ground.
She’s up on me quick, raising her hand, when a voice of God sounds behind me.
“Don’t do it, Sylvia.”
She freezes, mid-stab, and looks to where the voice is coming from. “Oh no, you weren’t supposed to see me like this.” She smiles and drops her arm.
“It’s okay. You look just fine,” Damien says, his voice sounding closer. Tears fall down my cheeks. I’m so relieved to hear his voice.
“Oh, I do? Do you like my dress?” She takes her free hand and begins matting down her hair. She starts to adjust her dress when she notices the tear and blood stains caused from my wound. “Blood. He doesn’t like blood. You—”
She points the knife at me, and I hear the crunching of movement getting closer. “Don’t! Just put the knife down. She has nothing to do with this. It’s just you and me, okay?”
He’s speaking crazy talk.
“You and me?” she asks, full of hope.
“You and me. Just put the knife down and walk away from her. Can you do that?”
Her smile is so big, like she just won homecoming court at prom. She hesitates, but then tosses the knife and starts to skip over to him. That’s when two officers appear from the shadows and tackle her. She screams and hollers for Damien.
A third officer pops out from the trees to block me from any further attack when Damien races to my side. He drops to his knees, cradling my wounded body. “Jesus Christ. Are you okay?” It’s still dark and hard to fully see. His hands roam my body, and I scream out when he hits my thigh. “I need a fucking medic! Now!” he howls, practically shaking the ground beneath me. “Tell me you’re okay. Please speak.”
I start to cry. I’m so relieved he’s here, but it settles in too quickly where I am and what I just endured.
“I need a fucking medic!” Damien shouts, his voice shaky. Bright lights explode around the woods, lighting up the area I’ve been a prisoner in. The brightness sets a pulse to my head, but I force myself to look around. Two officers kneel next to Jake’s body. In the far distance, someone is forcing an unstable blonde’s head into a police vehicle. I think I spot Christine, but I’m also very dehydrated and concussed, because I also think I see Elvis standing next to her. I inhale a ragged breath and bring my eyes back to the one person I worried I would never get to see again. His eyes are on fire, that amber glow making me feel safe.
Then I look at what he has on.
“Why are you in a set of hospital scrubs?”
“Long story.”
I try to sit up, but it’s impossible. The wooziness hits and white spots blur my vision. “Don’t try to get up. Please. Baby, just don’t move.”
I listen for once because I don’t have another choice. I feel so weak, and tired, and I just kind of want to sleep.
“Hey, Damien?” I call for him, using the last of my energy.
“Yeah, baby.”
“If I make it out of this, I just want to let you know I’m not opposed to role-playing. Keep the scrubs.” Before I get to hear his response, I black out.