Erica
After Thunder and I discussed our plan–dissecting it and re-dissecting until I was worried our over-planning might, in fact, kill the thing entirely–we fell into a restless doze, haunted both by the success or failure of the plan alongside the natural fears that would plague anyone in a situation like ours.
Like a gentleman, Thunder insisted on giving me the cot. I argued that that was ridiculous, for he was far more injured than me, and had been here longer, but eventually, I got the sense that allowing him to give it to me would make him feel far better than sleeping on the cot would have. It was a scratchy, horrid thing anyway.
While I dozed, I daydreamed of Dominic. So often, women concoct elaborate fantasies where they get themselves into a dangerous situation and their man suddenly turns up and rescues them. Hell, I was guilty of that myself. When I was feeling particularly low about some behavior of Brian’s, I’d paint him the hero–flawed, yes, ultimately brave and true and strong.
Ha. Ha. And also ha.
This time, though, as I envisioned Dominic bursting in to save the day–bloodied and embattled, to be sure, but glowing with triumph–I realized that this could actually happen. He was brave and true and clever enough to actually rescue me.
And so, I lost myself in the fantasies. Him, bursting through the door, the bodies of Blade and The Hook crumpling behind him. In some of my daydreams, they were already dead, bleeding out like punctured water balloons all over the floor. In others, they were bound and gagged, quivering in terror. I imagined Dominic, after sweeping me into a kiss, handing me his gun and saying, “You do the honors.”
Then, with savage glee, I dispatch the two men.
These violent fantasies did not worry me. In fact, I felt they made me stronger. Just like Dominic. He was violent, sure, but it was a tempered violence. A mature violence, unlike Blade and the Hook.
This is what I planned to use against them. They might have had the muscles and minds of adult men, but they had the egos and the pride of toddlers. And if my extended relationship with Brian had taught me anything, it was that the immature are easily manipulated.
In my fantasy, Dominic congratulated me on my cunning and my brilliance in enacting my plan, which of course had worked out perfectly. He could not have rescued me so smoothly without it, and would, in fact, have probably earned another major scar if not for me.
These fantasies filled me with such satisfaction that I actually found myself grinning, toying with the collar of my shirt and casual confidence. Then, it occurred to me that if Blade came in with that look on my face, my whole plan would be ruined. And so I regained my focus, forced my face into a grimace of resigned terror, and burrowed into the cot, allowing some of my discomfort to come over me.
It was in this pose then, with me curled pathetically and clutching at my clothing for warmth, and Thunder prone on the ground, stemming his own quakes, that Blade found us again.
“Hungry?” He sneered, coming in with what looked like two piece of moldy bread–what, did they keep it around just for the occasion of tormenting prisoners?–and a jug of water so brown I could guess they scooped it right from the river outside. He threw the meager pickings our way on the floor–spilling at least half of it–then leered at me.
“Hello, Erica my sweet,” he simpered, sitting down on the cot beside me.
Deliberately, I hide my face from him and curled up into a ball, like a terrified child. I was nervous, yes, but not afraid. My crouching demeanor was an act. I wanted him to believe me senseless.
“You poor, poor thing.” He reached out and stroked my bare shoulder, while I did my best not to recoil from the contact. He continued speaking, his voice oily and yellowed as grease. “To be stuck in a place like this…” He looked around the room pityingly. “It is your fault you know. Getting mixed up with a man like Dominic Molina. What could you expect? You better hope that the ransom The Hook is demanding from him doesn’t prove too much–Molina is not exactly known as a generous man.”
I screwed up my fists over my eyes and made short, lurching croaks. He thought I was crying. Actually, I was trying very, very hard not to laugh. He purred at me, stroking my skin and my hair, whispering in a voice as ugly as a toad’s, “There, there. There, there.”
At this point, Thunder smelt his opportunity, for he stirred.
“You ask me,” he slurred through a bruised and battered jaw, “I’d say The Hook is the one you have to worry about being generous. What did he promise you, huh? Ten minutes of his sloppy seconds?”
He leered, and winked at me like a lecher.
“What do you think, buddy?” He said to Blade. “Think he’ll let get a piece of that ass, too? Sloppy thirds, we’ll call it, eh?”
Rage surged through Blade, like a rippling of flame over leaking gas. He whirled away from me and approached Thunder, lifting back his shoe to kick him in the ribs.
This is where our plan really kicked on.
“Oh, come on!” I interrupted, pushing myself into a sitting position, my eyes puffy with fake tears. “You know it’s never going to get that far! The Hook’s gonna kill me as soon as he’s done!”
After that declaration, I let out a pitiful wail, and dissolved once again into tears. I found it was not hard to cry. All I had to do was tap into the well of terror buried deep inside me, kept sealed by my courage and this thought: “I must help Dominic in any way I can.”
Blade’s shoe passed, like a pendulum held at the top of its arc. I hoped I’d laced my words with enough sincerity to keep him from harming Thunder. Slowly, he lowered his foot, and turned towards me.
“What do you mean?” He demanded.
“You heard him!” I sobbed, hiding as much of my face as possible. “He wants to make Dominic suffer, by r-r-raping me while he watches. I just know he’s going to kill me afterward, and I wouldn’t care except for Dominic. Poor Dominic! The Hook is sure to break him!”
Blade stared at me thoughtfully. Maybe he sensed I was tricking him. Maybe he realized I was laying my fear in a little too thickly. Then, he reached down and seized me by the jaw.
“You were promised to me,” he said. “La Gancho can have his way, but then you’re mine!”
A deep chuckle, like rocks tumbling down a wet chute, echoed behind him. It was Thunder.
“Hehehe, you were promised?” He mocked. “Tell me–how many promises have you seen La Gancho keep?”
Blade turned back to me. He reached out and stroked my breast. “Maybe, then,” he growled, “I should take you now.”
I recoiled from him, and glared in disgust. “If you do, the Hook will kill you. Ha! Perhaps I’m luckier this way. Once The Hook has had his way with me, he’ll never let me get to you. He’ll kill me out of spite!”
Blade blinked. My words seemed to shake him. I shaped my next sentences carefully. Now was the crux. Where my plan would succeed or fail.
“Oh, I wish I could kill you all!” I cried, throwing myself back onto the cot. “While Dominic is distracted! Weakened by lust! Oh, I’d kill him if I could!”
“Hmmm….” Muttered Blade. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. Distracted…Weakened by lust…
He crouched down, and bared his yellow, mossy teeth at me in a smile.
“Don’t worry, Erica my sweet,” he simpered. “Perhaps you’ll get your wish soon enough.”
He reached down, and padded the gun holstered at his hip. It looked ridiculous on his bony, sagging frame, but it should get the job done just the same.
I forced myself not to smile.
“I’ll see you soon, darling,” he said. With a wink and a smile, he sauntered from the room, thinking himself a cowboy.
Once he was gone, and the door locked behind him, Thunder and I rose to seated positions.
“Well done, Erica!” He whispered. “Where’d you learn to act like that?”
I grinned. “You spend a lifetime dealing with asshole men, you learn how to flatter them. How about you?”
Thunder chuckled. “You spend a lifetime being an asshole, it becomes pretty easy to fake!”
We laughed, and he climbed up onto the cot beside me so I could rest my head on his shoulder.
“Well,” I said at last. “We’ve done everything we could. Now, the rest depends on Dominic.”
“Don’t worry, Erica,” Thunder sighed, giving me a one-armed hug. “We’re in capable hands.”