by Monica James
I don’t bother to scream for help, as I know this person is my captor. Instead, a string of profanities pass through my bound lips. My captor only laughs sinisterly, and the tiny hairs on my arms prickle with recognition, as I know that laugh.
“Justin?” I gasp around my gag.
The laughing ceases. I know it’s him.
Time freezes, and as hard as I try to make sense of why the hell Justin would do this to me, I come up short. So in its place, I decide to ask the bastard himself.
“Why?”
Why is he doing this?
“Why?” he angrily asks.
I nod, because it’s all I’m capable of doing.
“Because you ruined my life, you little bitch,” he spits. I can smell his perspiration, indicating he’s close.
I—what?
I remain silent, not knowing what to say.
“Oh, not so smart now, are you?” he snarls.
His weighty footsteps pound onto the creaky floor, and unexpectedly, my blindfold is ripped off my face, strands of hair being pulled out with the force. My eyes feel heavy, and as I pry them open, my pupils slowly adjust to the dim light streaming from the single light bulb hanging above my head.
My squinted eyes take in my bleak surroundings, and sadly, I was right. It looks as if we are in some rundown cabin, with nothing but a rusted sink with no taps, a wooden table and chair, a ratty mattress, and two windows, which are covered over with black sheets, to set the mood.
I’m guessing people come out here to get their dicks sucked by five dollar hookers.
Or… to torture people.
Justin is giving me sea legs with the way he is pacing the room like a caged tiger. I suddenly get dizzy for another reason, the Beretta handgun he pulls from the waistband of his jeans.
“Justin,” I say around my gag, my eyes dropping to the piece.
“Shut up!” he yells. “It’s now my turn to talk.”
I do as he says, as I need to buy some time before he… kills me.
He finally stops pacing and pulls up a chair, straddling it, so we’re facing one another.
Justin looks like a crazed man. His short hair is tufted into one, greasy clump, obviously from fisting it so tightly it no longer moves. Brown, beady eyes narrow on my face, and his lip curls in distaste when I whimper under his cruel stare. He smells to high heaven and his dirty, grass-stained white t-shirt, which has a yellow tinge around the collar and underarms, may be the reason why.
Overall, Justin is no longer the man I remember him to be.
“It’s funny. Seeing you bound and gagged doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies like I thought it would,” Justin sneers, looking at me with nothing but hatred in his dull, brown eyes.
I was hopeful he’d come around, but as he rises from his chair and pistol whips me to my right temple, I know I’m wrong. Blood trickles from the wound, slipping into my ear, and again, I see stars.
“Better,” he says with a smile, retaking his seat.
My head lolls to the side and I wish I could cover my ears, because the buzzing noise rattling around in my head is scrambling my already sore brain.
“No passing out,” he says, steadying my wobbly head in a vise-like grip under my chin. “I want you to hear everything I’m about to tell you.”
I break free from his hold, as his touch makes my skin crawl, but I nod, indicating I’m listening.
“Good girl,” he sneers. My eyes focus on the monster in front of me.
“What I told you was true. I did have a huge crush on you. All through high school, you seemed so far outta my league, but that time behind the gymnasium when I found you crying, and I comforted you, and you let me in, I thought maybe you felt something for me, too. When I kissed you, I was so inexperienced, but the kiss was perfect. And even though I’d kissed a few girls before you, they never made me feel like you did.”
I still don’t understand what this has to do with me being tied, gagged, and bleeding in front of him.
“Anyway, after that, I thought that maybe you’d felt it too, but I was wrong. The next day, you acted as if I didn’t exist and that fucking hurt. I was so lonely, and I knew you were, too. So I thought, maybe we could fill that void for one another, but you didn’t care. You went on like I never existed. And I faded into the shadows, watching you from afar.”
That is so creepy. I don’t even know how to process it.
“Two years later at that party, when I was sitting alone on the sofa, because no one wanted to talk to the weird, poor kid, you did it to me again. Do you remember that night?” he asks, his hateful eyes never leaving mine.
I nod, and my breathing starts to increase, as I’m beginning to see a pattern.
“That was the night you tore my fucking heart out. I had finally gotten over you, even dated a few girls, but then you came and sat near me, acknowledging me after ignoring me for so long. All my feelings for you came rushing back.”
I think back to why I sat beside him.
It was because I was waiting for Mickey, the local quarterback. I only agreed to do the drop off because he paid good money for a gram of coke. He texted me while I was rummaging blindly through his parents’ pretentious mansion, looking for him, and asked that I wait for him downstairs, as he was out on a beer run and would be back in twenty minutes.
I had been bored amongst the jocks and cheerleaders, and I saw Justin sitting on his own, so I figured I’d kill some time by talking to the only person I could tolerate in the room. But I didn’t realize he was in love with me. If I had, I would have pushed him away when he kissed me.
“Ah, so you do remember,” Justin says, watching me closely as I replay the events in my mind.
“Why did you kiss me back, Mia, why? If you never liked me, you should have told me and not led me on, you little cocktease!” He reaches out, slapping me so hard across the face my head snaps back with the force.
But I push past the pain, because I need to know how the story ends.
“After you left me sitting on the couch, like I didn’t matter… I followed you. I wanted to tell you once and for all that I was sick of being ignored and that I loved you.”
My stomach drops as I know what comes next.
“I saw you dealing to Mickey,” he snarls, his lip curling in distaste.
I’m not proud of my actions, but I still don’t understand why Justin is so mad.
He sees the confusion in my eyes and kicks back his chair, towering over me.
“Do you know why I was the shy, weird kid?” he asks, bracing both hands on the back of my chair so our faces are inches apart.
I shake my head no.
“Because my dad was a junkie, Mia. I was so introverted because my family life was so fucked up, and I just couldn’t deal. Then I saw you and I knew you’d understand, because I could see that you too, were lost, just like me.”
I flinch, because his next words hit home.
“But I never suspected the reason was because you were a fucking drug dealer. You were everything I hated, because your career choice, was the reason for my shitty childhood.”
I’m sorry for Justin’s pain, and I’m not proud of what I did, but in no way was it a career choice. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I just didn’t have the balls to stand up to my dad and tell him no.
“But it gets better,” he snickers, pulling back from my personal space.
I let out a premature breath, because as I watch Justin reach into his pocket, pulling out a ripped, aged photograph, I know the answer lies within this picture.
“Do you know him?” he asks, showing me a picture of a man in his early 40’s.
“No,” I mutter around the gag, shaking my head in case he can’t understand me, but he does.
“Look closer!” he yells, shoving the photo into my face.
Pulling back to get a better look, I still have no idea who he is.
“Look closer at the life you destroyed,” Justin spits, tapping the barrel o
f the gun against the discolored photograph.
My eyes focus on the picture of the man in blue slacks, watering his rosebush, but still, nothing.
“You filthy whore!” He slaps me again, but this time, my teeth rattle inside my bloodied mouth.
“You can’t even remember the face of the person you killed!” Justin screams, his fingers crushing around the photograph in rage.
“What?” I gasp through my gag, my eyes widening.
“Oh, don’t play dumb. You dealt this man a bad batch of heroin, and this man was my father!” he shouts, shoving the picture into my face so I can get a clear view of the reason behind Justin’s rage.
What the fuck?
My stomach burns, and I feel rancid bile creep into the back of my throat. But I hold back my vomit, as I know I will choke on it if it comes up.
Staring at the photograph with a heavy heart, I can see the resemblance between Justin and his dad, and I don’t blame Justin for hating me. He has every right to despise me, because I don’t remember the face of the man whose life I destroyed.
I deserve this. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but still, I didn’t stop.
I won’t fight Justin. If this is what he has to do to get some kind of peace, then so be it. Revenge is a powerful thing—I should know. And I’m willing to sacrifice myself, to give Justin his vengeance. The vengeance he deserves.
“I followed you one day after school, because after the party, you weren’t really around.”
That’s because I was failing, and didn’t see the point of attending something as trivial as school.
Thinking back, I know the day he’s talking about, as it was the last day I was at school. I was there to collect my shit and drop out. I had a small batch of heroin stashed in my sock that I was to deliver, but I went to school first, because the drop off was about ten minutes from Parkdale High School, which was unusual, as I mainly dealt to folk in the city.
That drop off, I now realize, was to Justin’s father. And you know what, I still can’t remember his face—but there’s a reason why I can’t.
The faces of the people I’ve dealt to, they all morph into one, because I don’t want to know what color their eyes are, or how big a nose they have, or what they do for a living. I don’t want to know, because that would make them a person. That would make them someone with a family, which would make them a mom, a dad, a wife, a husband, a soccer coach, a bus driver, a sales clerk, a track champion, and also, someone’s kid.
It made it easier not to feel guilty when they were just nameless, faceless clients. It made it easier to accept that I was ruining their lives.
“I saw you deal to my dad,” Justin whispers, lost in thought. “I always wondered who he got his gear off of. I just never imaged the girl I loved was the one responsible for ruining my life!”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper, wishing I didn’t have this stupid gag in my mouth.
“You’re sorry?” Justin asks, his body shaking in fury.
I nod, my eyes filling with tears.
“Are you sorry that you’re a dirty drug dealer? Or are you sorry you got caught?” He pistol whips me again.
Blood pours into my eyes and trickles over my lips, but I remain still and remind myself I deserve this.
“That day, my dad died in his car, shooting up the junk you sold him. So excuse me if your apologies mean jack shit to me.” He slaps me across my left cheek, no doubt leaving a handprint behind.
My cheeks feel swollen, and all I can taste is the unmistakable tang of metal in my mouth. But I need him to know that I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry,” I spit out again, my eyes widening, needing to express how remorseful I really am.
“Stop apologizing!” he screams into my face, spittle covering my cheeks.
He is beyond reason, and that’s okay, so I only nod and stop with the apologies.
“What are you going to do with me?” I ask, which comes out muffled, but he understands me clearly.
He laughs, and it’s not a nice sound.
“This is the best part,” he says with a smile, pulling away from me as he begins pacing the room.
“You caused quite a scene back home, shooting your father.”
Suddenly, I feel the blood drain from my face.
“Ah finally, I see that you’re scared. Little bad ass Mia is actually human,” Justin says in mock horror as he stops pacing and watches me with a predatory grin.
“What did you do?” I spit, but I know the answer.
“When you were accused of shooting your father, I followed your case with interest, because after my dad’s death, I wanted vengeance for his murder. He was a bastard and a junkie, but he was still my father.”
I nod, understanding his reasoning all too well.
“So I sat and waited, thinking of all the ways I could make you pay for ruining my life, because as they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. But you made it so easy for me. When you shot that low-life and ran, thinking he was dead, that led me straight to you.”
I cock an eyebrow, confused.
Justin smiles, looking pleased with what he’s about to reveal. “I visited your father in the hospital, and the moment I saw him, I realized you and I were more alike than I thought. We both had junkies for fathers. And that made me hate you all the more. I just couldn’t understand how you chose to live that destructive lifestyle when you knew, firsthand, how many lives it impacts. How many lives it destroys, and this fact just fueled my need for revenge even more. Anyway, I gave him some sob story that we were dating, and that I wanted to find you, to bring you home, and the stupid bastard believed me. He most likely figured that I had more of a chance bringing you home than he did, as we were supposedly in love. He agreed, thinking he was in control. The police were hot on his ass, so he had to be careful and not rouse too much suspicion. So I’m sure he wasn’t looking too hard for you, as he thought I was doing all the legwork. And that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want him finding you first, because I knew he would kill you before I got my chance at revenge.”
Sonofabitch!
“I had to pull a lot of strings, but lucky for me an ex-girlfriend’s dad was a cop. I found the information I needed after I earned his trust, and I located you, trying to blend in, in that pathetic excuse of a town of South Boston. But what I didn’t realize was that your father was working with that dirty drug lord. That motherfucker was keeping a low profile, as he too was rousing suspicion among the cops, but he had his sources working on finding you, and unluckily for me, he also found out about your whereabouts around the same time as I did. Then it was game on.”
This story is getting worse with each passing second, but with no other choice, I listen.
“I followed them to South Boston, but you’d already split. So I asked around, and there was one blonde bimbo who was more than happy to divulge information on where you were headed. And with little persuasion, I might add.” Justin smirks. I know exactly who he’s talking about.
Stacey.
“Her boyfriend’s dad was a cop, and he had told his son there was a sighting of you headed for South Carolina, so I bailed. But I couldn’t believe my luck when I bumped into you.”
If I had just stayed put and not been jealous, none of this would have happened.
“It was fate. I followed you after our encounter, and then, then I called your dad.”
I close my eyes, wanting to shut this horrible reality out.
But Justin continues. “I knew they hadn’t found you, because I had the upper hand, thanks to the ever helpful Stacey. But I was running low on cash, as all my efforts to track you down bled me dry. Then I was struck with a brilliant idea. Who has lots of cash? Drug dealers. And who would pay for information of your whereabouts? Your drug dealer. I told your dad I wanted $50,000, and I would tell him where you were. He didn’t believe me, but when I gave them the cell number of your little friend, which I knew you were using, then they believed me when they called her phone, and
her bubbly voice message answered, proving to them I was right. They didn’t even know she existed, but after they did their homework, they knew I was telling them the truth”
Shit. That message was from them.
“They asked why would I help them, and I told them I needed the cash. They knew they couldn’t do this on their own, and with the police also gunning after you, they had no other choice but to trust me. Your dad and Phil—they wanted you so badly—they agreed, but said I would get the money after I delivered you to them. Alive. I was so fucking happy. I would get my revenge, and I would also be one rich bastard after I finished with you. Life was good. But then you just left in the middle of the night and I fucking lost track of you. But… your little boyfriend’s romantic gesture tipped off the police, and thankfully for me, little Stacey knew all the details. But it was pure coincidence I stumbled across you at that rest stop. Fate once again had a part to play in our meeting.”
Justin is the reason why my father and Phil were always a step behind us? He’s the reason why they knew our every move? And he’s the reason why Lucky got hurt? This son of a bitch has been tipping them off, and I played right into his hands.
“I let your father know we were back in the game, but the stakes had been raised. I wanted $80,000 because we had a ‘complication.’”
Quinn.
“He asked if he was going to be a problem, and I told him no.”
And how wrong Justin was.
“I let them know where we were that first night in Arkansas, as they were looking for you in a totally different direction, the dumbasses. I didn’t want the police finding us, so we stayed in that fancy hotel to throw them off our tails. Phil deposited a couple of grand in my bank account as a sign of good faith, but because the stupid idiots were on the other side of the damn country, I got paranoid, thinking the cops might be onto us. So we left for Missouri, where I was to wait for them. I was happy to wait out the two days there, as I was going to beat, torture, and fuck you, and then hand you over to them. But because of that pierced motherfucker, I just couldn’t get you alone. And there was another problem—I wanted my damn money. I told your dad I would up and leave if they didn’t give me $20,000 as a down payment, and with no other choice, they paid me. But when I checked my account, the scumbags only paid me $5000. They thought they were so clever, but I showed them who’s clever by leaving early that morning in Missouri. That day that was the day I was going to hand you over, but those fuckers wanted to double cross me, so I showed them who was in control.”
