Page 47

Dallas

“Garbage juice is right…” a voice drifts in and out of a cacophony of giggles, muffled by an old Skrillex song. “Drink a cup and it’ll burn your tastebuds off anyway.”

Seconds later, I’m laughing so hard that I can barely stand up, my eyes glossing over the Christmas lights shining outside the frosty picture window.

“Easy, Killer,” a deep voice cuts in, and I grab a fistful of their shirt as I stumble to the side.

I recognize the house, with its hardwood paneling and bronze picture lights showcasing all the original artwork along the walls. I know the people who live in this house. I’ve been here more times than I can count. I didn’t even have to lie to my mom about where I was going tonight.

I’m standing in the hallway now. The lights are off, but I can see everyone in the distance, milling back and forth between the kitchen and living room. Someone’s standing close, so close that I can smell the clean, familiar bite of their body wash. And as soon as I turn back to them, their lips assault mine with ferocity. But I don’t think I mind.

My eyes flutter open and I try to focus. I think I’m looking at the wall, but it’s still dark. Suddenly, I roll onto my back, across the soft surface beneath me. I try to look around, but I can’t move. My muscles feel like Jell-O, like I’m lying in quicksand. I lift my arm, but it only moves a few inches before my fingers hit something. I think it’s an arm, confirmed only when I hear the familiar voice above me.

“Is she awake?”

I blink a few times, but my vision blurs as a hand squeezes my jaw and holds my head steady.

A different voice drifts in and out. “I cut the dose…her size...don’t need a dead girl...”

I open my mouth and try to speak, but nothing comes out except a faint grunt. He releases my face and takes my wrist, pressing it down next to my head. I try to pull it away, but my strength is gone.

“You’re fine.”

I know his voice, but my head is swimming and I can’t focus enough to remember who it is. The last thing I hear is the voice I don’t recognize.

“Have fun…”

A door opens, shuts again, and everything goes black.

●●●

My temple is pulsing like a metronome, each beat bringing me closer to consciousness. I know this feeling, the one where I’m having a good dream, but it won’t end when I open my eyes. And now I just want to wake up so I can see Alex’s face and feel him fuck me back to life.

I’m getting closer, and at first, I can’t tell whether my eyes are open or closed. Is it still night? In the dim light, I can make out a wall made of wood planks that stretch too high for me to even see. Then I realize I can’t move my head. And I’m definitely not in my bed.

The dirt floor comes into focus and shadows crawl up the ceiling like demons out of my nightmares. Am I kneeling? There’s something around my neck, holding it in place, and I can’t move my hands. Now I feel claustrophobic, like I’m slowly being strangled. Thick straps dig into my wrists when I try to jerk away.

I’m naked. I start hyperventilating. And then I start screaming. I’m awake now, my eyes darting around as I try to figure out where I am. But my head is a chaotic jumble, and even though every muscle is screaming, I can’t move an inch. I can only look straight ahead, my neck strapped to a metal apparatus with my wrists bound in front of me. I’m on my stomach, my waist secured similarly with my legs straddling it like some medieval sawhorse. My position doesn’t hurt, per se, almost like it was constructed for this purpose. And that fills me with immense dread.

Every limb starts trembling as a shadow appears in my periphery. I don’t know if I want to even see who my assailant is. But then I realize I already have…standing at my car, waiting for me after the Rickhouse.

Austin crouches down in front of me, tossing his sandy hair out of his eyes. It’s longer, disheveled, but his caramel irises and sharp jawline are exactly as I remember. Except, now, a menacing shadow lingers behind them. I flinch as he reaches out and brushes my thick curtain of hair out of my bleary eyes, the sweat glistening on his bare chest as his sneakers scuff the dirt beneath me.

“Hey, Dallas,” he grins.

My gaze shifts from his radiant smile to the phone in his other hand, pointing straight at me.

“What—” I cough the phlegm out of my throat, “what are you doing?” I ask with a pathetic sob.

His smile evaporates into a loathsome smirk. “About to find out what you fuck like when you’re conscious.”

Game over.

Images flash through my mind at warp speed. It’s not such a distant and fragmented memory anymore. Winter break. Austin’s house. Did I drink too much? I only had one. There was another guy…Austin’s cousin… Trey. The blood and the pain the next day…

I have to get out of here. I have to find a way out, but I can’t even move.

“ Why are you doing this, Austin? ” I shout, tugging at the leather straps buckled around my wrists.

It’s almost like I’ve asked this question before, but not of him.

“Because, Dallas,” he drags his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the tears, “you don’t fucking listen, even to the people who care about you. I told you that you’d get in trouble messing around with strangers on the Internet. How much do you think your fans would pay to see you learn your lesson?”

My brain short-circuits, sending my panic response into overdrive. Flooded with adrenaline, my muscles jerk in short bursts, trying to break free from my restraints. But it only serves as entertainment for him.

“You think Ghost will try to find you?” The corners of his mouth curl. “Maybe he can crowdfund the search.”

My heart sinks as it dawns on me that I don’t even know where I am. How long was I unconscious? Does Alex even know that I’m gone yet? With Austin’s resources, we could be anywhere.

He grabs the back of my hair, clenching it tight. “Don’t forget, Dallas, I was here first,” then he leans in close, “in every fucking sense of the word.”

He smashes his lips into mine, eliciting a horrified screech as I try to jerk away, but to no avail. Eventually, he releases me with a cruel chuckle.

“Where is this place?” I creak out, my eyes darting around the dim structure.

A shed? A barn? A cabin? I think it’s night, but the stifling summer heat hasn’t broken yet, turning the musty space into a sweatbox. And now that I’m awake, my muscles are starting to fatigue and pain is radiating through my groin.

“Your friend, Bowen, gave me an idea.”

Bowen?

How does Austin know Bowen? Then I remember what Austin said during our last argument. How did he know what Bowen did?

“I even convinced him to let me store you here for the time being.”

Convinced him?

“I didn’t tell him about your side-gig, though,” Austin continues, “figured I’d hold on to that one.”

A million thoughts swirl through my mind, interrupted when I spy a metal table behind Austin, shoved haphazardly against the wall. A chain dangles above it, looped over the rafter. I follow it down to a pair of dingy handcuffs, hanging open at the end like steel claws. But my eyes are drawn to the planks behind them, a faint stain oozing down the wall like rusty tears.

“The night’ll come when you wake up in a safe place,” Bowen’s voice echoes, “where I can have fun with you whenever I want.”

This is Bowen’s barn. He kept his promise and it’s only a matter of time before he walks through that door and I never see the light of day again. Because he’s been watching us all, just waiting for a vulnerability to exploit.

“Dire Ridge’s star shooting guard, number 17…Austin…Bostwick.”

My eyes dart to Austin, my mouth twitching with fury as I glare up at him.

“What did he tell you?” I snarl through clenched teeth. “Do you even know who he is? He’s playing you. He’s fucking playing you!”

Austin’s silence suggests otherwise, because he’s unaware that Bowen Garrison doesn’t share what he perceives to be his.

My face contorts and more tears spill down my cheeks. “Who are you? I don’t know you anymore! He murdered Evie,” my voice crescendos, “ and he’s going to kill you, too! ”

Even after everything, I still don’t want to believe one of my closest friends could turn into this. But he’s not Austin. Austin is gone. Or worse, maybe this is who he always was, a thin veneer hiding the evil beneath.

“You’re dead!” I scream through the snot and tears. “You’re nothing! You’re nothing but a fucking rapist!”

I should probably shut up now, my neck is killing me and I’m in no position to be antagonizing anyone. And the more I think about what he’s about to do, the more I fight the restraints, trying to tear my limbs free.

“ Me? ” Austin glares down indignantly. “You should be thankful I’m here instead of one of your mask-wearing bondage freaks!”

Is he serious?

And I really hope that, wherever he is, Bailey the electrical lineman knows that he’s become such a popular talking point in my life.

Austin grabs the top of my hair and pulls my head up until it catches on the strap digging into my neck. “I’m doing you a favor, ” he growls. “Your sweet pedophile’s going to use you up and leave you, just like the last time. Except, now, he’ll get rich off your stupid ass in the process. Are you just mad that I didn’t video all those times before so you could sell them to the highest bidder?”

All those times before?

Every muscle tightens and the fear melts away, replaced by pure, unadulterated rage.

“It’s called consent , ” I snarl up at him through the fire radiating across my scalp, “and you’ll never have it. Because Alex has always been the one, and you’ll never be a fraction of the man he is! ”

Austin jumps up and kicks an empty metal drum across the floor with a crash. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for him to rain his next blow down on me, but it never comes. Instead, he stalks across the room and grabs an object off the dusty metal table.

To my horror, he starts back toward me, cocking a gun as he quickly closes the space. I let out a barrage of screams, realizing my entire life has boiled down to two possible outcomes; be executed by Austin or enslaved by Bowen.

Then, suddenly, a deep bang echoes somewhere to the left of me.

And I realize my time is up.