by A. M. Hooper
"It would seem you have quite the dilemma," Dominic coaxed, standing fully upright in front of Cephas. He watched the gun that followed him as he stood. He winced, grabbing his leg with each movement. "But don't worry, I’ll make the decision for you." Dominic walked toward me, the familiar click of his shoes quickly approaching.
“I said stay away from Emmaline!” Cephas ordered, following Dominic's step with his gun.
Dominic ignored him and took a step toward me. He pulled the chair carelessly across the room and shoved me into it, dropping the battery on the ground beside me.
“Dominic, I said—”
“I heard you,” Dominic responded in annoyance. “Now, if you wouldn't mind, we have some business to take care of.” Dominic gestured toward the machine. Cephas timidly lowered his weapon and walked carefully over to the desk to join Dominic. Dominic motioned gallantly toward the seat.
“The sooner you fix this, the sooner it will all be over,” Dominic offered. Cephas glared and sat in the oversized chair behind the desk. He moved his hands swiftly to the keys and began typing. Dominic's hand rested instantly on Cephas’ shoulder.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dominic stopped him. “Let's lay down some rules first.” Cephas shoved himself away from the desk and spun to look up at Dominic. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation of Dominic's monologue, folding his arms in frustration.
“First, my people need this money within the next five minutes or this entire scheme is pointless.”
“Then why are you still talking?” Cephas asked bitterly. Dominic smirked.
“Second, I'll not be monitoring you, but rather your precious little angel over here. If you don't transfer the money to its proper destination, there will be nothing left of her for you.” He smirked his evil grin and Cephas pulled himself back to the desk, taking a deep breath before replacing his fingers on the keyboard.
I gasped in surprise as Dominic yanked me out of my chair.
“Wh—what are you doing?” I whispered. He pulled my body close to his.
“Making sure your little boyfriend does as he's told.” Dominic rubbed his cheek against mine and inhaled. I pulled my face back from his and he laughed.
“How's the transfer coming, Cephas?” Dominic asked in a raised voice.
“It would be going faster if you'd leave the girl alone. I'd be a lot less distracted,” Cephas said through gritted teeth.
“Not a chance,” Dominic laughed, pulling me against his body. I turned my face away from his again, unwilling to let his mouth capture mine ever again. I felt his hands go around my waist as the cold remote that he held grazed my skin. He could do with me as he pleased. After Cephas transferred the money, Dominic would kill me, even if he kept Cephas for his own uses. I looked over at Cephas. He glanced at me for half of a second, his fingers typing wildly on the computer. He winked at me. He winked . . . did he have a plan?
“Dominic, it's nearly done,” Cephas interrupted.
“How near?” Dominic asked, stroking his hands through my hair.
“I need only your password,” Cephas replied in spurious gallantry. Dominic shoved away from me, though he kept a hold on my arm.
Cephas pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, gesturing toward the computer screen. Dominic stooped to pick up the battery and thrust it into my hands. My head flung to the side as he dragged me over to the desk. He sat assertively in the chair and pulled me down onto his lap.
“Why don't you sit here, dear. You must be sick of standing,” he whispered into my ear, smiling cunningly. I rolled my eyes. His left hand rested on my leg, near my upper thigh. I scowled in disgust.
“So I just push enter?” Dominic asked timidly.
“That's right,” Cephas replied casually. He reached to his side and pulled out a gun, aiming it before Dominic realized what was going on. “And I know you won't let us live after you have your money, so why don't you hand over Emmaline.”
“I'm afraid I can't do that.”
“Then I'm afraid you'll die.”
“Have you forgotten your little girlfriend is still attached to a battery?”
“Have you forgotten I still have a gun to your head?”
“Stop!” I yelled suddenly. Both men turned their attention to me and my eyes widened. I didn't know what I was going to say. Their arguing was hurting my throbbing head so I had yelled. I looked to Cephas, who raised his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden outburst. His focus was gone. Dominic pushed the 'enter' key and the computer screen flashed. Dominic pushed me out of his lap and stood, turning around to slam me against the wall. Pulling a gun from his side, he laid a bullet into Cephas’ stomach. Cephas cried out in pain, crumpling on the ground. Cherry red blood soaked his white, button-up shirt. I screamed out in horror as Cephas attempted to lift himself from the ground—no success. He fell onto his back. Heavy breathing filled the stale air.
“You'd better hope the money goes to the right place or your little girlfriend is going to be a vegetable,” Dominic hissed, seething with anger. His face was inches from mine and I could feel his agitated breath on my face. Cephas moaned on the floor, unable to move.
“My name is Emmaline,” I hissed back. I glanced to the computer screen. A task bar popped up on the screen, notifying the user that the transfer was completed. Dominic held up a phone and pushed a button, scanning the contents of the screen. He shook his head in disgust and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“Bad choice, Cephas,” Dominic muttered. He slammed his body against mine.
“I'd let you give your girlfriend one last kiss, but I think I'd rather do it,” he said, lowering his head toward mine. I spat angrily in his face and he laughed, laying a soft kiss on my neck. He kissed me behind my ear and lingered a moment.
“After I finish enjoying my spoils, you're going to die, and Cephas is going to agonize over you . . . until I tell him that you didn't care one ounce for him,” he whispered into my ear.
“That's not true,” I whispered in response, cringing as his hands ran the length of my side.
“What's not true?” Cephas demanded, attempting to pull his body toward us.
“Nothing,” Dominic said, dismissing the question. I took a deep breath. Dominic was going to kill me, but I couldn't die with Cephas thinking everything he did was in vain.
All at once silence surrounded my ears. I couldn’t hear Cephas’ dull moaning from the floor, nor Dominic’s faint sadistic laugh near my ear. Burying my thoughts in the deepest cavern of my brain, I felt my heart pounding through my head.
Boom.
Boom, boom.
I listened to the pounding and allowed the movement to vibrate in and out of my thoughts.
Usually my heart pounded out of fear, and I consequently burst into tears.
But I didn’t.
Cephas had to know—he had to! I didn’t even care that I was going to die, or that I was going to feel pain. I thought of the unforgettable torture my body had endured when Dominic shocked me into compliance and mortified Cephas into hopelessness.
This couldn’t be hopeless.
Cephas couldn’t fail—the world would fail altogether if not for people like Cephas who would give up even love to save it.
Sometimes love means sacrificing life, ambition, and even love itself to preserve the world that allows such pure feeling to exist . . . or so I supposed before I acquainted myself with probable death.
“He's going to tell you I don't—” I began, interrupted by Dominic slapping me across the face.
“You'll kindly be quiet now,” Dominic demanded, glaring into my face.
“Don't what?” Cephas asked, determined to have an answer.
“It's not true, Cephas!” I said firmly. Dominic slammed my head against the hard wall and my eyes went blurry. I blinked in an attempt to clear my vision, but everything was still so fuzzy. Dominic lowered his head toward mine and our lips met. He pulled my body close to his, laughing as he tormented Cephas. I felt the remote aga
inst my skin. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cephas groaning, dragging himself across the room. I couldn't let him die—not for me, not when I had accidentally distracted him and gave Dominic a chance to shoot him, not when I had screwed up his plan and stopped him from saving the world.
Suddenly my own life didn't seem so important. I would have analyzed that new thought, but I had to act quickly. Without further evaluation, I leaned my arms against the wall behind me, near the remote in Dominic's hand. I pretended to enjoy the kiss, arousing Dominic's interest.
“She's quite enjoying this, Cephas,” he shouted in between the exchange. I felt the remote touch my hand. “Now he'll really believe you didn't love him,” he whispered with a dastardly grin. His mouth locked with mine and I pushed the button. All at once, the electrical current whirred through my body again. The sharp pins and needles penetrated my skin and muscle. My body convulsed and I dropped to the ground. Dominic landed on top of me. The shock didn't stop—I was holding down the button. I couldn't release it. The electrical pulse kept coming. I felt my body flail on the ground, flinging first into Dominic, then into the wall. Dominic's body convulsed as well. My vision started to fade. I could barely see Cephas as he managed to stand and search frantically for something with which to dismantle the battery. He picked up a chair and came toward us . . .
And everything went black.
CHAPTER 20
My eyes opened and shut quickly. The sunlight was bright, shining through my bedroom window. My bedroom! I forced my eyelids instantly open and sat up in bed. My bed! I ran my hands over my chocolate colored comforter. How did I get home? I stopped moving and looked around suspiciously. I listened for noises. Was it all a nightmare? My head began throbbing. Nope. That was definitely real. No noises permeated my door. If someone was here, he was being very quiet. I shoved my comforter aside and planted my feet on the carpeted floor. Folding my arms against the cold, I noticed I was wearing pajamas. I ran my hands over the warm fleece before pulling open my bedroom door. I was met by silence. Walking cautiously across the hall and down the stairs, I listened for noise. Nothing. I stepped down into the hall and glanced in the foyer. Nothing. Taking a few steps to my left, I walked into the living room.
"Good morning, pumpkin," a voice welcomed from beside me. I jumped, startled at the noise. As my hand moved instinctively to my chest, I calmed my breathing.
"Hi, dad," I breathed, tucking my hair behind my ear. Why did I feel so tense? My muscles were so agitated and my brain all jumpy.
Placing his hand on the small of my back, my father guided me into the dining room.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, pulling out a chair. "You were out for a few days," he added as he softly guided my body onto the wooden seat. I sat mechanically and widened my eyes, trying to gain my surroundings. Why were we eating breakfast at the table? I turned to look at the counter top behind me.
"Mom!" I shouted, lighting off of the hard chair. I was in her arms in an instant, fitting perfectly against her chest. All of my emotion came rushing in at once, slamming into my throat with excessive force. She hugged me tight—tighter than anyone ever had. Her arms didn't let go, they just kept hugging tighter and tighter. I felt my father's hand ruffle gently through my hair. I could picture him smiling, that dashing grin rising all the way up into his black-rimmed glasses. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with my mother's freshly laundered, cotton shirt. Lifting my face away from my mother's shoulder, I looked up at her ecstatic smile. She was the perfect height for hugging.
"Oh, sweetie, I missed you so much!" she shrieked, hugging me again. The smell of sizzling bacon wafted into my nose and a smile crossed my face. Just like old times. My mother pushed me out of her arms and twirled me around to face the table.
"Come on, Em," she ordered happily. "You must be starving!" Scooting me toward my seat, she directed me back into the chair. I could hear her turn and bustle around the kitchen, loading way too much food onto my plate. The chair beside me scraped across the hardwood floor, startling me slightly. My dad noticed as he sat down. He cleared his throat.
"I'm fine," I insisted, needlessly spreading the tablecloth in front of me. "I'm just a little jumpy . . . at . . . noises—I guess." I felt confusion furrow my brow and I looked up at my mother as she placed a plate on the table. She kissed my head sweetly and took her place next to my father, brushing his shoulder as she walked by. He smiled up at her and she picked up a fork, lifting it through the air the way she used to—a signal we were ready to eat. The gesture was common before she died. But she hadn't died. She was alive. I should be happy. I was happy, but . . . I don't know. Something was . . .
I looked at the fourth chair. The fourth, empty chair. Sunlight poured through the sliding glass door, illuminating a sheen on the polished, cherry wood. Why were we sitting at the table? It was like everything had returned to normal, erasing all that I had been through in the last month. You can't just erase life-changing experiences . . . can you? I glanced at the counter top behind me, then let out a consenting sigh.
"So how long was I out?" I asked, scooping up a bite of eggs with my fork. I hated eggs.
"Oh, about two days," my dad answered in between bites. "Getting electrocuted takes a toll on you." He stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth, crunching the savory meat between his perfect teeth. He licked his lips.
"At least, that's what we heard happened," he began slowly. My mother's hand moved gently to his shoulder and she raised her brows at him—the silencing look. His response was nearly instantaneous.
"I'm sorry, Em," he said quickly.
"You don't have to talk abou—"
”It's fine," I interrupted. "I want to talk about it." I looked up from my chocolate chip pancakes, alternating between my parents eyes. Their troubled expressions were almost annoying. I knew they loved me, but what was the point of beating around the bush, pretending like none of this happened? I looked down at my plate. The silver fork pushed the food around, creating a jumbled mess of the carefully prepared breakfast. I sighed and cut off a large piece of pancake. Shoving it into my mouth, I let the chocolate and syrup swirl around my tongue and tingle my taste buds. At least, when everything else was terrible, the world still had chocolate chip pancakes. I swallowed, then licked the inside of my mouth. Taking a swig of milk, I wiped nervously at my lips and set down the cup.
"So where's Cephas?" I asked without emotion. I needed to know the truth. My parents looked at each other, and tears welled up in my mother's eyes. Resisting the urge to roll my own eyes, I stared deeper into their faces. I had missed my mother so much, but I couldn't take crying right now. Everything was so surreal. My mother's hand squeezed her husband's as she looked imploringly into his face for assistance. My dad cleared his throat, a fisted hand lifting toward his mouth.
"He was trying to save you, Em," he began, meeting my eyes. "I'm so sorry." The muscles in my legs contracted and I felt a sudden throbbing in my head.
"He's dead?" I whispered in disbelief. He died saving me? That was impossible—I was the one who got electrocuted. I suddenly hated myself—I hated that I had been the cause of Cephas’ death, and I hated that he would have succeeded in taking down Dominic if I hadn’t been such a distraction.
"What about Dominic?" I asked without waiting for my parents' response. My dad looked down at his plate and picked up his fork, stirring around his food just as I had done.
"Nobody knows what happened to him," he mumbled. "It's suspected he got away." He wouldn't look directly at me. A coldness rushed by my face as the blood drained back to my heart. Dominic had gotten away. He was out on the loose, and Cephas was dead. I shuddered as the word reeled through my head. Nothing turned out right. Nothing was working out. Nothing.
My body refused to move—my legs glued themselves to the chair and my hands nailed themselves to the table. I think I was holding my breath, because I began to feel lightheaded. Why was this happening? Everything was supposed to be okay. I sniffed. Oh, no—tears.
Tucking my hair nervously behind my ear, I stood, the chair scraping across the floor as I pushed it with my calves.
"I'm going to lie down," I mumbled, feigning a smile.
"But sweetie, you didn't finish your—"
"I know . . . I'm sorry. I'll just be in my room. My head's beginning to hurt again," I lied. I turned away and headed toward the stairs. Imagining my parents' hurt expressions, I thought instead of Cephas. He was dead. That word sounded wrong—impossible, really. My step landed carefully on the first stair, but it echoed through my head. How could Cephas be dead while Dominic was alive and well? Boom. Another step. I had electrocuted Dominic, though I guess I had survived the shock, so it made sense Dominic could have survived as well. Boom. Boom. Each step echoed louder and louder through my head. How could Cephas just leave me like this? Boom. I could feel the blood rising in my chest. This shouldn't be happening. Boom. Boom. Thud. I allowed myself to fall gently on the top step, hoping the small noise didn't attract too much attention. The echo of my footstep was too much to take; the pounding noise was unbearable! I lay on my back, staring up at the white ceiling, before forcing my eyelids shut. Everything went black, and my mind flashed back to the last night I remembered.
Dominic held me captive, his lips moving closer to mine. Closer, closer. I glanced up. Cephas was lunging toward me, and I pushed my lips to Dominic's. The shock blinded my eyes and scrambled my brain. I saw Cephas—I saw the chair—I heard the shattering of wood as the chair met the battery with such force as to wake me from my reverie. The ceiling stared into my eyes once more and I sat up, leaning my shoulder against the banister railing. Quick whispering met my ears.
"She doesn't seem alright," came my dad's worried voice.
"Perhaps she just needs some time to adjust," my mother offered soothingly.
"How would you know!" my father argued, raising his voice. He never raised his voice. "You haven't been around for two years!" Silence. I leaned down and glanced through the banister railing. My father wrapped his arms around my mom. He muttered an apology as his hands ran instinctively through my mother's hair. Pushing her face carefully away from his shoulder, he ran his thumb along her cheekbone.
