The steps look stable, but it’s dark at the bottom and Ireallydon’t want to go down there. Could I spin quickly and knock the gun out of her hand? If I did, then what? We’re evenly matched in terms of height and build, but I’m not fully confident that I could take her in a physical fight. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.
Reluctantly, I walk down the stairs and immediately scrunch my nose at the stench. It’s not dirty smelling, but more chemical. Like strong adhesives, paint, and cleaning agents. There’s an egress window on the far wall letting in a sliver of muted sunlight, but other than that, there is no other light source.
In the corner, there’s a bathroom with no walls around it and a kitchenette with bare and unstained cabinets and missing fixtures.
I stop in my tracks and my spine goes rigid when I see a metal pole in the middle of the room with a chain attached to it.
“Hell no,” I say under my breath.
“Sit down.” Emma seethes and points to a spot on the dusty concrete floor next to the beam. I can’t imagine how I’d get myself out of being chained to a fucking load- bearing immovable beam. In response to my hesitation, she aggressively jabs the gun into my back again, successfully reminding me of my lack of choices here.
Fastened to the end of the chain is a pair of handcuffs, and I eye them wearily as I finally sit where she asked me to.
“Put your wrists in the handcuffs.”
“Emma. This is outrageous. Why are you doing this?” I ask in the most soothing tone that I can muster. I don’twantto plead with her or appear pathetic, but I don’t want to piss her off either. So I keep my voice as soft as I can.
“You’re getting in the way and I can’t have that anymore,” she explains angrily. She grits her teeth and moves closer to me,tracing my cheekbone with the tip of the gun in her hand. “Now put on the handcuffs now, or I’ll have to bury you under the foundation next door instead.”
Why not just kill me now then? Seems a lot easier than all of this. But I don’t voice that observation out loud. This is premeditated, based on the chain attached to handcuffs. But, I am not sure she has thought this all the way through. And that might work to my advantage.
My thought process must have been written all over my face though, because she offers up an explanation.
“You took what wasmineand now I get to watch you suffer as I take it right back.” Her smile is crazed and laced with sinister satisfaction.
I realize she’s talking about Warren and my stomach turns. I inhale through my nose to steady my emotions and try to come up with something that will convince her to keep talking to me instead of chaining me up.
“You don’t have to do this. Let’s just talk about it,” I try to negotiate.
“But, I do! Idohave to do this! Because I love him and—” she screeches. “Nothing else was working and I am running out of time.”
I study her unhinged expression while rolling over possible responses in my mind.
“Emma,” I whisper. “What on earth are you talking about? Please. Just reconsider this for a second. I thought we were friends.” It’s a lie. We have never truly been friendly with each other. “What do you mean nothing else was working?”
She grinds her teeth and pulls at the stringy ends of her mussed hair. It’s then I notice her sunk-in cheeks and deep dark circles under her eyes.
“You’d think the arrest set-up would have been enough to get you fired and make you leave, but nooooo,” she draws outher words dramatically and waves the gun around, throwing her arms out in irritation.
Did she set me up that day in the courthouse? How? My eyes narrow and I press my lips together so that I don’t blurt out any curses that could get me killed.
“Was it not enough to destroy your job, your house, and fucking poison you? I mean forfuck’ssake. You’re a nightmare, Savannah. You have no idea how bad I want yougone.” She spits her last words and tiny bits of saliva land on my arm.
The word poison catches my attention and I think back to all of the times that I felt sick after being around her. I never thought for a second that she would do something so menacing and reckless. My hand wraps around my middle as I realize that I drank almost half of the bottle of Gatorade that she threw at me when we left the house.
I thought I’d need to be hydrated if I was going to fight my way through this, but I was aiding her process instead. Slow waves of nausea begin to drift up my chest and to my throat, but I close my eyes and will them away as much as I can.
The pieces of this big mysterious puzzle start to fit together in my mind. It’s been more than the universe working against me lately. Emma’s been sabotaging me within an inch of my life.
She stomps her foot and waves toward the handcuffs with the gun, then pointing it back at me furiously. With her red face and the fact that it looks like she’s about to abandon her plans and end me right now, I reach for the chain.
I place my wrists in the handcuffs the best that I can, but she still has to lean down and tighten them. She pulls on them, then the chain, testing their effectiveness. Pleased with their sturdiness, she spins on her heel and walks toward the unfinished bathroom.
“I don’t want to clean up after you,” she mutters with disgust. “There’s enough water in this bucket to drink and pour into the back of the toilet for a few flushes. Ration accordingly.”
Without another word, she stomps toward the stairs and climbs back up to the main level of the house.
“Wait!” I yell. I pull my hands apart, having already forgotten that they were restrained. The chain clangs against them and the rattle echoes through the nearly empty basement. “How long am I supposed to stay down here?!”
