It was hard...holding a gun to Justin’s head, slapping him when he called out for help and slamming the trunk closed on him again, allowing Charlie to drive on. If I wasn’t such a coward, I could have taken his cuffs off and sent him running down the road. There were cars passing by every few seconds, and I know somebody would have found him before Charlie could get out of the car and kill him. Well, at least...that’s what I keep telling myself.
I guess i’ll tell myself anything to make me feel better about the current situation though.
None of what’s happened since we left Adrian’s place was part of my plan. My plan was to trick Charlie into believing I was on his side as a distraction...so Justin could have chance. But all it did was backfire. Charlie asked me to cut Justin and so I did...I sliced his arm open, made him bleed...made him suffer even more than he was, and I hate myself for that. I let Charlie win, and I have no idea why. It’s like...a part of me completely sided with him again as soon as he forgave me. I can only imagine the things Justin would say to me right now if he could...and I would let him, because I know that I deserve at least that from him.
If I had my way, I’d give him a gun, and let him shoot me dead right now.
There’s so much blood that I can’t figure out where the bullet hit him, all I know is that he should already be dead, but he’s not. He’s still lying there, motionless, looking up at us for an answer to all of this. I wish I had one. I wish I could tell him why it had to come down to this, why people have to die because Charlie is a maniac.
But I can’t.
The pool of blood underneath Justin glistens as the new morning sun gleams down upon us through the trees above. It’s eerie, surreal. In a way, it would almost be a beautiful sight to take in, the dark colors of his clothes mixing with the crimson color of the blood, if it wasn’t such a horrible reality.
I promised I wouldn’t let him die.
He’s a pale, ghostly white, and his breathing is ragged. Every once in awhile he’ll stop making noise and just lie there, and I’ll think he’s dead, but then he’ll take a long, sickly breath in and out...desperately clinging to his life.
There’s nothing I can do for him now. Nothing. We’re miles away from sanctuary, and fuck knows where the cops are. Justin was right about Trevor, only I was too stupid to listen. He’s lying over by the tents, shot in the head. Charlie decided to do it once he realized Justin was getting away. We saw his figure racing away from the camp through our tent, and Charlie...despite being a little bit drunk, burst out of the tent anyway. By the time I’d gotten up the courage to follow him, it had been too late. He had Trevor on his knees, trying to get some kind of explanation out of him. He kept asking him where the money was, and Trevor...Trevor just laughed, told him to fuck himself.
Then Charlie shot him in the head, and Trevor fell over, instantly dead.
I’d never seen anything like that before today, and I can’t deny that I lost it a little bit more, had to run back into the tent and snort a couple of lines of coke to make myself numb to what happened. Trevor...or...if that was even his name...he wasn’t a bad guy. He always looked out for me, probably because he realized I was a lot different from Adrian and his goons. I took a half second to think about his family, if he had one...would they find out where his body was? Would they have closure?
But then I thought about Justin, and I realized that I could only focus on one person at a time, and it was too late for Trevor.
I prayed to God that I wouldn’t find Justin when Charlie forced us to go searching the woods for him. For awhile it seemed like he’d gotten away, and I was so fucking happy. I told God that if things could just stay that way, I’d take the death penalty, get gang raped in the shower, and have no complaints about it. Then Charlie had the brilliant idea to split up and look for Justin, he said we’d have a better chance of finding him that way, and since he was already really pissed off, I figured it wasn’t worth it to give him my opinion. It took about ten minutes before I nearly tripped right over Justin, and I realized that God must hate me...or have a vendetta against Justin.
And I tried to make him run... I did...
But Charlie and his gun were too smart and fast to let Justin escape like that.
I’m crying silently as we stand above his nearly lifeless form, and the sick smile on Charlie’s face as he keeps his gun pointed at our victim is only making the situation worse. “Charlie...” I whisper, putting my hand gently on the hand that’s holding the gun. “Maybe we should just get out of here.”
Charlie lets out a crazy laugh and shrugs me off of him. “Don’t you get it, Sam?”
I just stare at him.
“He needs to be finished off before we can do that. We can’t have a witness.”
I shake my head. “He’s dead as it is, baby.”
He turns his gaze to me, and lowers the gun slightly. I’m sure he figures he can. Justin can’t get up, can’t run. The most he can seem to do is wheeze and stare at me...
Stare at me like he’s trying to tell me he knows I tried...
That he loves me...
But he’s just fucking delirious.
Charlie smiles. “Let’s have some fun,” he says to me once again. “A little celebration, you know? I mean, we did it...we’re going to get away with this.”
I shudder as he pulls on my hand and drops his gun into it. He forces my fingers closed around it, caressing my hand gently with a look of crazed compassion in his eyes. “What are you doing?” I whisper, tearing my gaze from his, knowing damn well what he’s about to ask me to do.
“Finish him.”
I nearly drop the gun, and a small sob escapes me. “Charlie I...”
“I know you can do this.”
His tone is warm, not threatening, and he comes up behind me, beginning to rub my shoulders so I’ll relax a little more. I won’t though. I can’t. I can’t because I know...I know in the end I’m going to do what Charlie says. I realize the hold he has on me is more powerful than ever. That I have to do whatever he says because he’s my only way out of this.
“Sam.” r32;
Justin says my name, struggling to make it sound harsher than a whisper, and I feel myself crumbling inside.
“You don’t have to do this,” he continues. “You’re...y-you’re better...than him....”
He can’t seem to continue, because of the terrible pain he’s experiencing. He’s coughing hard now, his eyes closed as he clutches the side of his body that’s been penetrated by the bullet. He’s trembling so hard...I can almost feel it inside of me.
“C’mon girl,” Charlie hisses in my ear, his hands pressing down onto my shoulders harshly now. “If you won’t do it, you know I will...and it sure won’t be the easy way.”
I know Charlie isn’t playing around, and the last thing I want is for Justin to have to suffer more. I mean, if he has to die, I’d rather it be done quickly and painlessly. So I point the gun at Justin, and once he’s able to open his eyes again, he stares right back at me, but doesn’t look afraid. No, he looks calm, like he’s accepted it, like he’s ready to die.
I whimper.
r32;“I know you’re scared,” Charlie continues, when I don’t do anything more. His lips travel down to my neck and kiss it softly. “I’m not mad at you okay? This is the last step. You just have to pull the trigger and we’re on our way out of here.”
I want to believe him so badly, but I know better. Killing Justin isn’t a solution to all of this. In the end, we’ll be caught, because Charlie is too stupid and greedy to avoid the cops for long, and I’ll be right there with him, too stupid to walk away when I had the chance. “I can’t,” I croak.
“You have to.” He shakes me a little. “You have to do this for us, for everything he tried to make you think. Don’t you remember that? He tried to turn you against me. He brainwashed you. He doesn’t deserve to live, Sam.”
Yeah, that’s a perfect excuse to take his life.
Fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do?
The shrill sounds of helicopter blades penetrate my ear drums suddenly, and I have to look up when I realize that Charlie is doing the same thing. My heart begins to race. This happened before...earlier, and Charlie got so paranoid that we were about to be sabotaged by the police that he started to down a bottle of whiskey that he’d packed. I sat in the tent with him while he did it, knees pulled up to my chest as I watched him drink. He climbed on top of me after awhile...after the sounds of the helicopter died away and didn’t come back. He was happy then, so he pushed me down and forced himself on me. I told him I wasn’t in the mood, but he slapped me, so I had sex with him in the tent, praying to god that Justin was passed out and couldn’t hear what was going on.
I didn’t need a reason to bring him down more.
This time the chopper doesn’t disappear though. No...because they probably know what happened to Trevor and now they’re out to stop us before we can kill our hostage. I look back down at Justin again, and find that he’s passed out cold for the moment, at least...I hope that’s what he is...
Oh God.
“Justin,” I croak out. “Justin.”
Charlie kicks him a little, but doesn’t take his focus off the helicopter circling above us. It keeps going up and back, up and back, round and round. It wants us to know that it has us in sight...that we aren’t going anywhere.
“Fuck...don’t you die now. I’m going to enjoy this moment.” Charlie crouches down and shakes Justin roughly. He moans, his eyes open a crack and he glances at Charlie.
He’s still alive.
I nearly smile at the realization that he still has a chance, but the feeling is short lived. Charlie has crouched down, forcing Justin to sit upright, supporting him with one hand behind his back and an arm snaked around his neck. “Let’s do this,” Charlie grunts. “Come on...we don’t have time for sympathy.”
I’m crying openly now, so hard that my body has begun to shake violently...but still, I manage to raise the gun and keep it pointed at Justin. He’s staring at me again, his eyes half closed, willing me to just do it this time...to put him out of his misery. It’s so fucked up. He’s so close to getting away...the rescue force must only be a mile or so from here, and here I am about to take his chance of getting back to his life away from him. I’ve hit an all time low. I’ve never felt so dirty, so criminal. I belong in jail.
“Samantha,” Charlie seethes. “Do it.”
I cock the gun, feeling it begin to slip through my sweaty hands as I make it level with Justin’s forehead.
This is the FBI, step away from your hostage, place your weapon on the ground behind you, and lie face down. There is no where to go.
The strong, robotic voice is coming from the helicopter, and in my brain the commands seem to make sense to me. I even start to crouch to the ground to put the gun down. It must mean that I have a conscience...yeah.
“Don’t listen to them!” Charlie screams. “What the hell Sam! Get up right now!”
I snap to attention, realizing what I was just about to do. “Shit...Charlie I...”
“Shoot. Him. Now.”
Justin shudders more aggressively as Charlie tightens his hold on him, and I don’t lower my gun, but I don’t pull the trigger either. It’s like I’m frozen this way, trying to make a damn decision. What’s right? What’s the right fucking answer? Either way I’m screwed. If I don’t listen to Charlie he’ll kill us both, if I do Justin will die and...the police will eventually kill me in the end. I feel my eyes close tightly. I’m trying to escape the entire situation. I guess it’s the only defense my body can willingly perform right now.
“Samantha.”
I hear the voice, but it’s not Charlie’s...or Justin’s. This one is different, calm, older...nice? My eyes open, and I look back over my shoulder, nearly fainting when I see them all standing there, crouched down, their slender sniper rifles focused in our direction, but not firing them off. It’s a SWAT team, complete with protective armor and most likely tear gas. I’m guessing the only reason they haven’t broken the stuff out yet is because of Justin, and I guess...I guess that’s good. He’s in no condition for that.
“Samantha my name is Bill.”
He’s part of them, but he’s the only one standing, the only one who’s face isn’t shielded by a thick, bulletproof gas mask.
The negotiator.
I don’t answer him.
“Don’t fucking listen to him,” Charlie calls back to me.
I don’t pay attention.
“Fuck, Sam! Stupid bitch! Look at me when I talk to you!”
I pay attention to Bill instead. Something inside is telling me that it’s okay to do it, that Charlie can’t control this specific moment of my life, and in that instant, everything seems to melt away. All the pain, and heartache that Charlie has caused me from the moment I realized the type of person he really was. Justin, the nightclub, and...and how I feel about him, I forget about that too. “Hi Bill,” I say, knowing my gun is still pointed at Justin.
“How’s Justin doing over there?”
I look back at Justin, figuring I owe Bill a well informed answer from the front lines. He’s fighting to stay awake now, slouched against Charlie’s body rather than trying to fight him off. He’s too weak.
He’s going to die.
“He’s bleeding,” I whisper, once I look back at Bill.
Bill nods. “That doesn’t sound very good, Samantha. What can we do about that?”
I feel myself beginning to quiver again. “It’s too late to do anything,” I whimper.
“Not if you put the gun down. Right now.” Bill tells me tenderly. “How about you do that, nice and slow, and come stand with my friends over here...”
“Fuck...no fucking way.” Charlie releases Justin from his grasp and gets up, causing him to fall back down to the ground with a pathetic groan. “She’s staying right where she’s at,” he continues, with an intimidating tone. “Go back where you came from, or he’s dead.”
The men point their guns at Charlie’s chest, and I look on in horror, my gun still pointed at Justin, the beads of sweat pouring down my face as I wait for Charlie to be murdered before my eyes. It’s strange...I don’t know how I would feel if he died right now. Would I be sad? Or would I feel more of a sense of relief that he’d never be able to hurt me again?
The idea of a life without Charlie suddenly seems to fill me with a warmth I haven’t known in years.
“Hold your fire,” Bill says, gently holding a hand up to his men, before focusing on Charlie more intensely. “Charles...nobody needs to die today.”
“That’s not your decision, is it?” Charlie seethes. “Sam, do it. Now.”
I don’t move. I just stare at him, knowing I’m incapable of speaking right now, let alone shooting somebody.
“That’s it!” Charlie yells at me, outraged, as he begins to storm over to where I’m standing. “I’ll do it myself! Give me the fucking gun!”
“Stay where you are!” Somebody shouts.
My body twists itself around, and I pull the trigger. I pull it and it feels so good to feel the metal gliding against my finger as it fires off. Then Charlie falls, clutching at his bleeding chest and gasping at me in shock on his way down. I can’t look, I can’t do anything because I’m too busy staring at Justin. He’s still laying on his side, coughing and rasping for a breath. He’s not shot dead, I didn’t shoot him.
He’s alive...for the moment.
I drop the gun and fall to my knees, shaking and crying, apologizing and thanking God over and over again. Then somebody comes and snatches the gun from the ground, and yanks me to my feet seconds later. I don’t resist, don’t speak as my arms are yanked behind me, and the handcuffs are clamped around my wrists. There’s more shouts, screams. The men that had been crouched down with their guns rush to Charlie’s aid now, beginning to examine him to see how badly wounded he is.
Then there’s Justin.
Bill has taken it up on himself to get Justin sitting upright, and another armored man is shining a light in his eyes and inspecting his bullet wound. A stretcher is brought in seconds later by two more of the men, Justin is helped onto it, and I see them force an oxygen mask over his face. He’s clearly passed out again, at least... I hope that’s all it is, but I’m not given the chance to ask anybody if he’s going to be okay. The man that slapped me in handcuffs is hauling me in the opposite direction. Away from Charlie and his nightmare. Away from Justin...
Away from Justin.
“Wait!” I scream at the man. “Wait just let me say...let me say goodbye to him...”
“You can write your boyfriend a letter from your prison cell,” he grunts at me, then proceeds to ramble off my miranda rights as I’m lead down the same trail that we hauled Justin up all those hours ago.
He thinks I mean Charlie of course, but why wouldn’t he? I mean, really, who would believe that I bonded with my captive? That we talked, that we share the same sense of humor...that we kissed? Nobody.
I’m just a crazy criminal to them.
That’s all I’ll ever be now.
**************
The trip to FBI headquarters was long, and mostly silent. Two agents rode in the front of the car, occasionally whispering to one another, and the man who arrested me rode next to me in the back, staring straight ahead as if I wasn’t even there. I was stone silent the entire time, my mind swimming with a million questions that I couldn’t answer, and it was frustrating the hell out of me. Where was Justin? Was he okay? Did he die on the way to the hospital? If he didn’t, was he with his family? Was that Trace guy there, telling him that I’d been arrested and he and the rest of the family had the fullest intention on seeking the death penalty because of what I did?
I didn’t know. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d ever see Justin again, but I figured it was probably best for him and everybody in his life if I didn’t. I was a kidnapper and a criminal, and would only bring him down.
But fuck, I already missed him and I had no clue why. It shouldn’t have mattered. I wasn’t somebody who could ever really be a part of his life, after all. The bond we formed was out of necessity I think. He needed somebody to help him through the situation...and I was there, ready to seek comfort from somebody...anybody.
“Coffee?”
I keep my gaze focused on my cuffed hands, and nod a little. I can see the smoking cup of coffee slide towards me through the hair that’s in front of my eyes, and I stare at it for a moment, debating if it’s poisoned or not before I decide to take my chances. I’m so weary, so in need of my drugs right now, that I know the caffeine and sugar has to help me somewhat. I lift the cup with my cuffed hands, for the first time having a small inkling of what Justin went through for seven days.
I lost count, but they told me it had been seven days since we had taken Justin from that club.
I feel like a dirty animal for putting him through it, and like an idiot for not being able to keep track of the time for him.
The hot liquid gives me a renewed sense of energy, and I find myself sipping it down to the last drop before I put the cup down and shake the hair out of my eyes. The first person I see is Bill, sitting across the table from me, the tips of his fingers pressed together in a triangular shape. He’s patiently waiting for me, like he has all the time in the world. I don’t get why he’s being so hospitable, after what I’ve done to Justin.
“Better?” He smiles slightly.
I just shrug. “For now,” I say softly, knowing that sooner or later my cocaine craving is going to kick in full swing, and if the feeling is anything like it was when Charlie locked me in that room at Adrian’s, I know I’m going to completely lose myself. This is jail. There are no drugs here. I’m going to crack and get transferred into the psych ward.
“They tell me that Charles will make it,” he nods, as if he’s doing me some kind of small favor.
“Oh...” I trail off and look down at the shiny metal cuffs again. It occurs to me that I was hoping he wouldn’t tell me that. That he would tell me that the gunshot wound to his chest was fatal, that he wouldn’t live through the night...
That my nightmare was really over.
“If he does make the full recovery they tell me he will,” Bill continues. “I’m sure he’s going to do everything in his power to turn this around on you, so he can save himself some jail time.”
My mind screams no he won’t, he loves me, but the practical side of me knows that’s not true. Charlie isn’t one for jail, says he’s been there before and he’s not going back, and hell...who could blame him? “I want the maximum sentence,” I hear myself say, and immediately bite down on my lip, knowing how stupid I must sound. It’s how I feel though. It really is.
“Life without parole?” Bill chuckles. “That’s what you want?”
“I deserve it,” I mutter.
“Be that as it may, I don’t think you initiated this whole operation. I think you were just going along with what your boyfriend wanted you to do, and if I tell the DA that, you might be able to get a lighter sentence...possibly parole in twenty years, if you cooperate.”
He has salt and pepper hair, that used to be dark black, and the finest wrinkles are beginning to form around his eyes and mouth, but I can tell when he was in his prime, he was a really handsome guy. I eye the wedding band on his finger. I bet he has kids, and I bet none of them were dumb enough to get involved with a guy like Charlie. It occurs to me that I wish I could speak to my parents right now, to ask them what I should do, but I seriously doubt they are going to want anything to do with me once they realize what I’ve done. “Cooperate?” It’s all I can get out.
“Can you tell me what happened, Samantha? Can you tell me what Charlie did? Can you tell me how Adrian Pollano was involved in this?”
“I...” I pause and sigh. Too many questions. “I...I guess so.”
He pulls a little recording device out of his pocket and sets it on the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Can I just ask a question first?” I whisper, before he can begin to record our conversation.
He sits back and smiles a little bit. “Sure.”
“Will...will Justin make it?”
He studies me curiously for a few moments, before his expression sours just slightly. “He’s critical. It’s up in the air. That’s why I need your information now...in case he doesn’t make it.”
I cover my mouth with my hands and shake my head a little. Oh God.
“Samantha?”
“I promised him I wouldn’t let him die,” I whimper into my hands.
Bill sighs, and I see him grab the recording device off the table before the tears flood my eyes. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to do this then,” he tells me.
I don’t answer him. I can’t. I’m too busy crying into my hands now, the only thought on my mind being that Justin still isn’t safe. He got away...he got help and yet, he still might not make it.
It’s not fucking fair.
“How about tomorrow? We can try again then,” Bill offers.
I can’t even answer him. Soon I hear the door open, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. A pair of rough hands grab me and force me up from the chair as Bill bids me goodbye and says somebody will fill me in if ‘things don’t work out’. Meaning, if Justin dies in the hospital. I feel like throwing up, but I don’t want to mess up this nicely polished floor, so I just walk as the man guides me back down to a holding cell. He removes my handcuffs and gives me a gentle push inside. Then the cold metal bars slide closed in front of me, and the only thing I have to do right now is sit down on the cot in the corner and think about everything that’s happened.
And everything that’s going to happen from here on out.
I sleep forever. My dreams can only be described as intense. I see Charlie’s angry face, screaming at me to shoot Justin. Justin’s weak voice sounds off in the background...telling me I’m better than that. That he loves me. And I tell him that I love him, and I try to reach for the hand he’s holding out for me to take. He’ll take me away, he tells me. He’ll keep me safe...
r32;“Wake up.”
The voice isn’t menacing, but it isn’t very pleasant either. I jolt awake when I feel somebody shaking me out of my slumber, and my eyes feel wet and runny. I wipe at them, and realize I’ve been crying in my sleep, before I look up at whoever it is that’s disturbed me.
It’s a woman this time. Her hair is blonde and pulled up into a tight bun, and by the looks of her grey uniform, I know she can’t be more than a correctional officer hired to work the holding cells here. She’s also staring me down like I’m the scum of the earth...not that I can blame her of course. I push myself up to a sitting position and lean my back against the wall, waiting for her to continue on with whatever she’s here to tell me, or do. “Is it morning?”
“Almost,” she grunts. “Come on, you need a shower and a change of clothes.”
“What about Justin?” I ask her, not quite looking her in the eyes.
“Just come on,” she snaps, with a roll of her eyes.
It occurs to me that she doesn’t care if I’ve been left in the dark, nobody does. That’s what happens when you’re a criminal, at least until you get a lawyer. It occurs to me that I haven’t even asked for one. I probably should I guess. I mean...they can help, right? Help me to keep quiet when I’m being asked the wrong questions. I should ask Bill, when I see him. “Can I see Bill soon?” I ask her as she leads me out of the cell and slaps the cuffs on my wrists.
“You have a visitor first,” she snorts, and pushes me forward.
A visitor? Who the hell is coming to visit me? I mean, fuck...could it be my parents? I seriously doubt it. But if not them, then who?
My mind fills with even more questions as I take my shower. I don’t even get to every body part, which is pretty disgusting considering, but I just dont’ have the time to care. I have to focus on the more important things. My visitor...if Justin is alive or not...if Charlie is going to condemn me to the high heavens, turn this whole thing around on me. The water wakes me a up a little, makes me realize that I shouldn’t be going down without a fight. Charlie is a fighter, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison. Bill was right, he probably will do what he has to...sell me out if that means he’ll be out of jail faster.
I owe it to Justin not to let Charlie get his way after everything he put him through.
I’m shaking when I come out of the shower, and I can’t seem to stop even when I wrap myself in the generously fluffy towel I’ve been provided with. It’s the shakes...the beginning of a withdrawal, and I know...I know things are going to get bad very soon. I change into the clothes provided for me, a bright orange jump suit...prison attire...
I feel right at home now.
Tamara, as the woman has instructed me to call her once I ask for her name, cuffs me again once I let her know I’m ready to come out of the little locked bathroom, and leads me back to where I was before I fell asleep...the interrogation room I guess I can call it. Bill steps out of a side hallway just as Tamara knocks on the door, and grips me by the upper arm, assuring her he can take it from here.
“Good morning, Samantha.”
He has that little smile again, but I don’t return it. “Morning,” I rasp.
“it was a rough night, but Justin will make a full recovery.”
I gasp, nearly fall to my knees but stop myself. “Thank...thank you,” I tell him, the tears escaping my eyes.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and opens the door. I start to cry harder when I see who’s sitting at that table. I don’t know what to think, except that I’m dreaming...that it can’t be true.
“Sammy...Jesus.” Craig stands up and rushes over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a long awaited hug.
I can’t believe it and I start to sob uncontrollably into my brother’s chest as the realization hits me that he’s back...he’s not dead, he’s not missing anymore. How? I don’t know, and right now...I don’t have the strength to ask him. All I know is that he’s here, and he’s not leaving. I have somebody to lean on through this aftermath, regardless of what happens to me.
As I look over Craig’s broad shoulder I see Bill staring back at me, his smile a little wider than it was before, and I know I would do anything for this man at the moment for bringing my brother back to me. That includes giving him the confession he wants to hear...the one that will put Charlie away where he can’t hurt anybody else ever again.
it's why Bill did this.
He wants to give me something to live for.
it's more than Charlie has ever done for me.
