————————— PART FOUR —————————

 

“How’s your head?” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Ah ah ah, that’s when you groan and say, ‘I guess it’s a little bit better now, Your Honor.’ Yeah, please, PLEASE start saying ‘Your Honor’.” 

“I wasn’t faking it.” 

“Good, that’ll help. Although, I wouldn’t have cleaned the blood out of your ears.” 

“I’m not pleading insanity, won’t I seem more guilty if I look like a mess? I should be fixing my hair right now.”

“First of all, let’s get something straight. You’re not fixing anything. I’m gonna fix this. You’ve just about shown how capable you are of fixing things. You need to take a double dose of ‘shut the fuck up’ and let me do some talking. You need to talk, but you don’t have to answer every question in 2.5 seconds. Don’t have another outburst. You understand that it will be the end of you if you do, right?”

I don’t want to have a conversation. Not with him, not with “Your Honor”. I’m so tired of talking.

“Cody?………… Cody, it’s a balance beam. You’re not playing the silent game, you’re playing calm. I want you to tell me you understand that………….. Goddammit, you lackadaisical piece of shit-If you want to incarcerate yourself just please let me in on it so we can be done with this quicker.”

Truthfully, I was thinking about the worst that could happen if I strangled him right here and presented his carcass to the jury.

“CODY………. ANSWER ME!”

It couldn’t be as bad as what I was facing.

My face felt cold. Actually, only the left side of my face felt cold. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I was awake. Every request of my eyelids to open was met with refusal. They currently had a similar demeanor to my foot immediately after crushing my bedside table. I couldn’t exactly feel the rest of my body, but I felt so incredibly tired. My arms and legs were so numb that I couldn’t even move them. They were…….. wait… no. They weren’t numb. I was tied up with my legs bound to chair legs, and my arms to each other behind my back. That was the only way my disoriented body could decide that it was in a sitting position. I painfully pried my eyes open, as an immediate splitting headache shot into me. Someone must have just got done bashing a screwdriver into my temple. This was getting a lot closer to the feeling of hell that I was expecting.

It took a couple minutes, but I was able to raise my head with a narrow squint more eyelash than environment. It was dark, with the only light coming from one small place somewhere in the hazy direction of what I’m pretty sure was in front of me. Just that one nanoscopic pixel of inlet was enough to make me grit my teeth in pain. Where was I, and why was I tied up? Trying to make out my surroundings, it seemed like the light portrayed a small room with patchwork concrete walls. 

“What in the fuck…..”

My throat was so dry that I could feel my vocal chords crinkling. I was sitting in front of the metal table where my head had just been, with nothing else in the room. Okay, even in my bewildered state, I’m pretty sure the clues came together well enough. Somehow, I had managed to become a prisoner. 

Fantastic. 

I was just getting comfortable with opening my eyes a little more when the small stream of light became the light of a thousand suns melting my corneas. I slammed my head back down into the table as I groaned.

“UGGGHHH…”

I had been hungover a good amount of times in my life. Not too many. I tried to steer clear of alcohol since I had never learned to use it responsibly. Drink like it’s your last day on earth, just be ready for the next morning to feel like the end of the world. This was worse than any of those times, if that's possible. Why was this so painful? It felt like my skull was a piece of firewood at a Boy Scouts retreat.

“You alright?” a strangely familiar male voice spoke from somewhere inaccessible to my wounded eyes. 

I was definitely not alright. I can’t remember anything hurting this bad in my entire life. On that note, I’m having trouble remembering anything. I can’t even remember what I was doing before. Most likely walking. How does walking lead to this?

“You need some water, right?”

The pain was passing in a brutally slow manner.

“So fucking bright….”

“Oh God, sorry. I didn’t even think.”

I heard a rustling, followed by a slam of metal that stung deep in my ears.

“Of course that would have destroyed you, I’m sorry about that. I know concussions aren’t fun.”

Concussion? What? 

“My ears…. they’re aching so bad.”

“You got an earache? Oof, me too. Maybe it’s in the air today.”

I parted one eyelid to scope out the scene. The light seemed to have dimmed significantly back to what it was before. I slowly struggled to lift my hundred-pound-head.

“What did you just-“

I lost my train of thought as I saw the face of the boy in front of me. It was the one from before, the one who had pulled me inside. Inside?

Inside…… that’s right. Not good.

It billowed out of me like a clogged pipe being released from its building pressure. It almost looked orange as it poured onto the table. All the memories of that night came flooding back, as well as my forgotten pre-IKEA Batman origin story. I had briefly been released from the constant hounding of those horrible thoughts, but they all returned in an instant, along with the existential confusion of my more current situation. Combine that with the already splitting headache, and I had myself a one-way ticket to seeing my guts shooting out of my mouth like a rocket. I finished after four three good waterfalls and a couple more sour and stinging dry heaves.

“Um….. wow. You definitely need water. Let me get some paper towels.”

I saw him turn around and bolt for what I now realized was a door with a square window.

“DON’T!”

My own yelling was almost enough to make my head explode, but he stopped to look back at me as I winced.

“Please don’t open that fucking door,” I begged through gritted teeth.

“R-…. right, sorry.”

What was his name? I couldn’t remember. 

“What happened to me?”

“You um-“

The boy sniffed the air and visibly gagged.

“Jesus.”

He reached for the door handle as I instinctively shut my eyes tight.

“DUDE!”

I heard it peel open.

“I’m sorry, I really am, but I have got to get that smell out of here. This place is a hotbox. I’ll be right back.”

I groaned as I heard his footsteps exit the vicinity.

“Goddammit.”

My throat was like a furnace of TV static as I spit the coating of my cheeks onto the table. I felt like I heard someone else’s shuffling somewhat close to me, but I couldn’t really tell.  My head sounded like a battlefield. There were, of course, a million screaming nerves that I swear were so silent for the other twenty-three years of my life, but my thoughts were still louder. I’m not trying to beef about being alive, but I feel like the victims of these sorts of events usually wake up in more hospitable places. On TV, if an injured traveler is taken in by an unknown civilization, they’re usually given a warm bed with a heating pad in a nicely decorated teepee covered in tapestries and spirit candles, waking up to a beautiful woman pouring them mineral water out of a mayan clay pitcher. This was not that. I was happy to be conscious and breathing, but I was not fucking happy. Looking back at the physical state I was in at that time, I don’t particularly blame myself for being irate. However, seeing as I’m a prestige master in taking my emotions too far…

—————

About a minute and a half later, his hurried footsteps returned back into the room.

“Okay.”

I heard the door being closed as I cautiously re-opened my eyes. He was holding two bottles of water and a roll of paper towels.

“I can um…. I can clean this……. I guess I should’ve brought a trash can in here.”

“Hey,” I interrupted.

He looked up at me nervously.

“Where the fuck am I?”

“A safe place. Don’t worry, those things aren’t going to get to you now.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

He froze, looking confused.

“Sorry?….…. I can’t really-“

“-Why am I tied up?”

“Oh, right. Well, it’s just a precaution.”

“Oh yeah? A precaution? Why is that necessary?”

“I mean… we don’t exactly know what you’re going to do. Plus, you did technically threaten one of us.”

“Untie me. Right now.”

I assume the trouble I was having with holding my tongue was because it felt like I had just spewed it out onto the table. 

“Yeah, I…… I can’t do that.”

“You can’t? What do you mean you can’t?!”

“Hey, calm down, everything’s gonna be alright. This is just a formality.”

“A formality?! YOU’RE TALKING TO ME ABOUT A FUCKING FORMALITY!? IS THAT A JOKE?! TAKE ME THE FUCK HOME RIGHT NOW!”

“I….. also can’t do that. Like I’m actually incapable of doing that, it’s not a decision. I’m trying to help you.”

I looked down towards my pants. I didn’t see the outline of my phone in my pocket. It certainly wasn’t in my hand. They must’ve taken it off of me.

“Hey! Where’s my fucking phone?!”

He fidgeted awkwardly.

“We had to confiscate it.”

“Confiscate it?! God DAMMIT, WHY?! AM I IN FUCKING DETENTION?!”

“Actually….. yes. Although, I’m sure you meant the juvenile concept of detention. I’m saying that you’ve been detained. You don’t usually let somebody have their cell phone when they go to prison. Obviously this isn’t exactly the same but-“

“-FUCK YOU!”

I didn’t mean it. Well, maybe I had in the moment, but remembering it makes me cringe. I didn’t want to mean it, but he was making me angry when my temper was already unequivocally short. The way he was speaking so calmly was lighting a new fire in the back of my throat. I wasn’t myself. Maybe I was… slightly myself, but even myself would’ve backed off a little after he said that. In the long list of things I was about to do in the next five minutes, back off was not one of them. There was something wrong with me. My synapses had scattered until forming a coherent reasonable thought had become impossibly difficult. Also, my brain was surely becoming more and more scrambled with each one of my own screams.

“Listen…. that was bad word choice on my part, but even so, I can’t talk to you if you’re acting like this,” he offered. 

“Oh no, you’re gonna talk. I’ll make you fucking talk,” I reciprocated.

I didn’t know how I planned to back that up with my arms bound, but at that point, I think I was only talking to appear as if I had a leg to stand on…… out of the two legs that were also bound. 

“I’m sorry, you’re going to make me?”

“Yeah! You think I’m joking?! How did I get a concussion?! Did you knock me out or something?!”

The nervousness finally disappeared from his face, as I think he had a realization of what the inside of my skull currently looked like. 

“Me?”

“Yes, asshole. You.”

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“You know…… I understood where you were coming from that night. Sean can be a… bit … of an asshole sometimes, but I also never heard a thank you for-“

“-Oh, please please please spare me from that shit-I’m so fucking sick of people like you! Just tell me what this place is!”

“I’ve been trying to.”

“Bullshit! Then stop stalling and tell me in one sentence!”

“That is…. annoyingly impossible. What’s your name?”

My eye definitely twitched. I’m sure I had the look of an animal on my face. I was finding it shockingly difficult to not be a prick.

“If I break out of this chair before you tell me what’s going on, I swear to God I’m going to wring your fucking neck.”

I think I heard God laugh at that a little. I definitely heard somebody laugh, and it wasn’t my friend here. He didn’t look like he was finding the situation very funny. He calmly set the roll of paper towels down on the floor. 

“Aye yai yai. You’re a piece of work.”

I tried to pull myself up forcibly, but the chair seemed to be welded to the floor. As I struggled against the ropes. I noticed that one was tied to my waist and looped around the bottom. I was rendered completely immobile. 

I began writhing in the restraints.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!”

“Me? To be honest, nothing. Not anymore. But somebody else will now.”

“What?”

He backs up slightly and knocks on the door three times. After a second, the door opens, as… she steps in. Okay, there was way too much else to focus on before. There still sort of is now, but not enough to avoid describing this girl.

She was breathtaking. Breathtaking isn’t a good term, psychosis inducing was better. 

(You’re so gross)

Brunette bangs were like a veil over her forehead, and one longer than all the others crawled down to the freckles that only graced her right cheek. The rest of her hair was wrapped up in a ponytail to reveal her slimly shaped face, still with the perfect hint of cute chubbiness to it.

(Gross gross gross gross gross)

The slightest touch of natural tan to her seemingly hispanic skin tone.

(I swear to God, stop)

Her figure was a destructively alluring daydream. Long legs that shot up to sexy thighs and a perfectly curved waist. A slim torso which, with her shirt cropped up, boasted an incredibly athletic tone. The softer parts were…. um. I’ll keep my glowing description of them to myself but, it’s impossible not to mention. Especially with her outfit being as revealing as it was.

(On my way to punch you in the stomach, see you soon!)

However, the chimera of her was easily… those eyes. Those mesmerizing eyes. It was like the indigo tinge of a DVD was pirouetting around her pupils. Purple, violet, magenta, all three at once, and yet beautifully transcended the expressible spectrum altogether. They swallowed me so addictively deep. What an appropriate setting for a pair of eyes to be as infinite as they were. Cold and polarizing to make contact with, yet I almost felt like my headache disappeared when I saw them. Even as they stared back at me with a look that meant nothing good.

She took a bottle of water from him, drinking it slowly in the time it took me to uncomfortably stare at her. She threw the empty bottle out the doorway after she finished. 

“What do you want?”

Was she…. asking me that question?

“Hello? Are you suddenly deaf?”

I guess that’s a yes.

“What do I… what?!”

The anger was still in my voice for sure. I had tried to tone it back when I saw her, but I don’t think it worked very well. Her glare intensified towards me.

“I heard you in here. What makes you think you can talk to Elijah like that?”

That’s the name. Elijah. Sweet Elijah.

“Like fucking what?”

I’d swear to God, but…

She closed her eyes.

“Elijah, untie him.”

I actively tilted my head in confusion. Not how I had expected this conversation to go, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. Get me out of this chair.

“Alright,” he answered.

Elijah reached into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a pocket knife, flipping it open as he walked behind me. I felt the release of my waist and legs, followed by a pressure on my hands as they parted from each other.

“Stand up,” she crossed her arms and coldly commanded me. 

It seemed a little confrontational, but I did just curse them both out. I stood and rubbed my sore wrists, stepping around the table towards her. I stumbled what I planned to be gracefully, but I felt like I had one and a half left feet. 

“About time someone actually listens in here. Now can I get some fucking answers?”

She stared at me silently for about ten seconds.

“You can go, Elijah.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He walked towards the door silently. How… old were they? Maybe it was just a comedic title, but it was weird to hear Elijah call her “Ma’am” when they both seemed to be the same age. 

“Lock it behind you. Don’t open it for five minutes no matter what.”

“No problem.”

Wait, what? 

“What did you just say?” I asked.

I saw Elijah pause to look at her. She returned his look as he seemed to silently offer her the pocket knife. She shook her head. Elijah turned around and exited, closing the door behind him as I heard a second slam on the other side, leaving me alone in the room with this girl. I stared at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer.

“Dude, am I speaking in fuckin wingdings?!-why am I fighting to have a conversation-how hard is it?!-”

“-Did you even try to have a conversation with him? It seems like you’re just screaming for the sake of it.”

The tone of her voice was the equivalent of my headache being shot into my stomach. It was dangerously unnerving, yet so steady and calm. Given that, there was something about her that was undoubtedly just….. terrifying. Just so-

“You know, for someone demanding answers, you sure take your sweet ass time responding to questions.”

Anyone else having a hard time breathing regularly right now?

“I, wha-... Why should I be the one answering questions?! I’m the one who’s confused-I’m in the goddamn Twilight Zone. Am I supposed to be giving you a TED Talk-WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I BE THE ONE TALKING?!”

She uncrossed her arms, and stretched her neck a little bit.

“What’s your name?”

It was a simple question, but in the moment, it felt way too personal for my liking. It’s funny, at that point, I had yet to notice that my wallet was also not in my pocket anymore. You know, the wallet with my driver’s license in it. Of course, I still spoke as if I had the upper hand of information. 

I walked up and leaned into her face. 

“I’m. Not. Telling. You. Shit.”

It was fast, so fucking fast. Like-if the pain wasn’t immediate I might have not even known that it had happened-kind of fast. Her foot jabbed upwards, planted directly into my gut with ridiculous force, and immediately crumpled me to the ground. A retch of air exited me as I gagged on the pressure shooting up to my mouth. The wind was violently knocked out of me, as was a tiny bit more vomit. I felt like my organs had just been smeared around inside of my gut.

“What… what the f-… what the fuck is wrong with you?!” I coughed between my wincing.

She stood over me, looking down in disgust.

“Your name. What is your name?”

I clutched my stomach with my hand, using the other to hold myself up from falling backwards.

“I…… it’s Cody.”

She threw the water bottle into my stomach with full force as I groaned.

“Full name.”

“JESUS! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

She swooped down to the ground, grabbing my throat with her right hand. I was so shocked that I think I might’ve squealed. Gripping my throat tight, she dragged me like a toddler by the neck across the room. I slammed backwards into the left wall. She bent down on one knee and put her face directly in front of mine.

“Has anyone ever told you that ‘conversation’ means that more than one person is talking?”

For the first time in my life, I had truly forgotten how to speak. 

“I want your full government name. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I immediately saw her in a very different light. I was no longer addicted to staring her in the eyes. Within thirty seconds, she had become something that very much horrified me.

My shaky voice lingered out of its cave. 

“……. Cody Lewis Camargo.”

Her hand released from my neck as she stood. She walked back over to her previous spot and then turned to face me.

“How long have you been here?”

“…. I…… I think four days now.”

She kicks the water bottle back over at me, as I catch it directly before it smashes into my face.

“Why are you lying to me-“

“-I swear! I swear to God. It might’ve been three, it definitely wasn’t five-“

“-where have you been all of that time?”

“I…… I don’t know-“

“-Wrong fucking answer-“

“-I DON’T, I DON’T KNOW! Everywhere! I’ve just been walking! Trying to find help.”

“Not for four fucking days you haven’t.”

“I just said it might have been three.”

She put her forehead in her hands and rubbed her temples for a few seconds, then looked back at me.

“Drink that water.”

“W-… what?”

“Drink the water. Chug it.”

I momentarily stopped asking questions. I shakily unscrewed the bottle, struggling to keep my hands steady. I started drinking. It would have felt like heaven if I wasn’t completely terrified. I finished and looked up to her in expectation.

“Stand up.”

I set the bottle aside and took my time to get up on my legs. I hadn’t expected to make it.

“How do you feel?”

“….. I…… okay?”

“You don’t feel okay. You’re recovering from a concussion, and you’ve lost most of your electrolytes. How do you feel right this second?”

I felt alive, but lesser so. I didn’t feel great. 

“Below adequate.”

She cracked her knuckles.

“Tell me right now if you think you’re too weak to fight me.”

I definitely had a dumb look on my face. I couldn’t have heard that right.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll take it that you’re fine.”

Fight? She wants me to…. fight her? Fight a girl…….. that’s…. complicated. Super complicated. Too complicated for me right now. Too complicated for me for a long time. I can’t do that. Should I ask her why she needs to fight me? We should resolve this in a more civil manner. It took a little wake up call, but I’m ready to stop yelling. I’m willing to calmly talk about this.

“I’m too weak.”

I see the smallest little smirk raise in her lips.

“You’re a really shitty liar.”

This is pretty bad. 

Bad isn’t a good word, unfortunate is better. 

How did I get here? Because of a bedside table? Obviously that’s putting it lightly, but goddamn dude, when does it end? Am I at least close to the tip of the iceberg? I have no way of knowing, but I kind of feel like I’m not even swimming yet. I realized I was waist deep about the same moment that she raised up her fists towards me. I had no idea what to do. I wanted to defuse the situation, but I was the one who lit it. The bomb was bobbing right in front of me, only a couple seconds from going off. I didn’t even know how to fight, not seriously. I was almost absolutely sure that this was about to be a serious fight. 

I was right. 

It escalated so fast. She dashed towards me as I jumped to the right, just simply trying to avoid her. She anticipated that. Her left hand swung wide and bashed into my face as I stumbled into the door. I was immediately submerged. I struggled to keep myself standing as the images flashed back through my head. My hands went into a shaking fit as I was overwhelmed by a devastating hysteria. I fought to pierce my attention through the familiar black fog. The girl reappeared in front of me as I gasped back to life. She was strong, and I don’t know if she was left or right handed, but I prayed that hand was her dominant one so it couldn’t get any worse. There was a writhing pain in my face and head, but that hit had psyched me up. I guess we were fighting. She dashed towards me again as I bent down to grab her torso. She brought her knee up into my neck, but the weight of my body had already entered the air. I blasted into her as she fell backwards to the ground. A distressing sting spread through my neck, but I was doing my best to ignore pain. Focusing on every ache would be much too distracting right now. Distracting enough to keep me from realizing that I had just put myself at the disadvantage. I felt her legs wrap around the middle of my back as her fist began to smash repeatedly into the back of my head like a wrecking ball. I felt the world around me ripple with every hit. I struggled to get up, but her weight was pinning me down. I rolled over, her stomach suffocating my face.

That was…. a different kind of distracting…

I had a moment of intelligence in realizing I had pinned her legs under me, and grabbed each of her arms, trying my best to pry her body upwards and off of me. I quickly threw her onto her side on the ground, immediately focusing all of my strength on prying her left leg off of my torso. Succeeding, I attempted to roll to my side, but she had already propped herself up on her elbow. As I looked over, I saw her forehead swooping towards me just a second too late. I felt her skull make solid contact with my own through our foreheads. The pain became difficult to ignore after that. I think that hit made me forget what my favorite color was. My senses were drunkenly leaning on each other to stay upright, but my sense of sight was about one bad impact away from praying to the porcelain God. I thought for a second about how the only way to motivate myself through that pain would be to pretend this was life or death. I then realized, I didn’t truly know if it was or not. I was severely outmatched. If she had the opportunity….. was she going to kill me? I had obviously made her angry, and I began recalling the others who had suggested throwing me right back outside. I’m suddenly extremely worried for my life. I guess I am a good self-motivator when I want to be.

I rolled away to safety, trying to eat the blow the best I could, but I was feeling unbelievably dizzy. I reached the wall, praising it as my saving grace, and pulled myself upwards with its support. I looked back to see that she had already been on her feet for a while. 

“You suck.”

Getting taunted on in the middle of a fight was not ideal. I was a lot better at fighting games than real life fighting. Akuma would be pretty disappointed in my current performance.

“Shut up,” I retorted. 

She smiled slightly.

“You shouldn’t be impressed with yourself or anything. I bet you think you’re so goddamn cool,” I added.

Her smile disappeared. I was not happy to see it go, for a multitude of reasons.

“Stop talking.”

You started it, but whatever.

I charged towards her this time. I didn’t know what I was doing at all, but I tried throwing my right fist towards her head. She blocked it easily with her forearm. I panicked a little and immediately threw my left fist the same way. The same result occurred with her other arm as she threw her skull through the opening I had made, head-butting me again. I stumbled all the way backwards to the wall, propped my foot on it, and ran right back at her. Let’s try that again. I threw my left fist again, and as she blocked it, I thought I had distracted her. I forced my right fist straight towards her face. She moved both arms inward and trapped it with her forearms before it reached her nose.

Are you fucking kidding?

She rotated sharply, twisting my right forearm to an awkward angle. I winced, and swiped for her head with my left in a panic. She saw it coming and leaned backwards, narrowly avoiding my fist. She leaned forward again in an instant, and sank her teeth into my wrist, immediately ripping a chunk of flesh and nerves out and away with her. A small red mist showered over us.

What. The. Fuck.

She let go of my arm as I stumbled backwards, gripping my bleeding wrist. Okay, she might be trying to kill me.

“GODDAMMIT! YOU PSYCHOTIC BITCH-ARE YOU INSANE?!”

She brushed some of my blood off of her mouth, and spit a piece of my skin to the floor. 

“Don’t be a pussy. There’s no rules.”

She moved towards me, slower this time.

“When are you gonna land an actual hit?”

A genuine anger began boiling inside of me. A horrifyingly genuine anger. This fucking slut bit me. Like, really hard. I can’t believe that shit.

I met her halfway, running towards her. I didn’t go for a punch, and instead, pushed her by the shoulders just trying to get her to the floor. She barely stumbled. With my arms out, she quickly punched me twice in the sternum, one fist after the other. I, on the other hand, barely caught myself as I stumbled backward from that. She continued forward menacingly. I thought of using my legs, but I was sure it would end up with me on my ass.

I jumped to the left, running back to get some distance. She turned and continued approaching.

“What are you doing?”

As if I fucking knew. I was just buying time to figure out what I should actually be doing. I was hopelessly losing, and I didn’t want to learn what would happen when I lost. Running out of my already minuscule list of options, I had an inspirational moment. It was a super dumb idea, but I assumed that the way to beat a smart fighter was doing things so dumb that they would never expect it. Terrible idea for sure, but I was hoping for a great execution anyway. I started moving towards her, trying to mimic her speed. I’m sure my version wasn’t nearly as intimidating, but I was hoping she would back off at least a little. Of course, she seemed unfazed. Oh well, let’s just get it over with. I shot towards her, keeping upright for the moment, not giving away my idea. She readied her arms to block me, but once again, I went for her torso. Or rather, I acted like I was going to. I waited until she dropped her arms to try and grab me, to shoot my head upwards, bashing into her chin. I heard that it’s supposed to rattle a person's brain, but you’re kinda supposed to do it with your fist. Whatever. Once I felt the pain of her chin meeting my head, I focused on putting all the strength I had towards my right fist. I tried to channel the same feeling of running away from the hoard outside the gates. Putting so much pressure on a part of my body that it felt disconnected. I swung out my arm, and let the radius of the joint do the job of snapping the weight of my fist around in a circle. It swam through the air and, unbelievably, landed exactly where I wanted it to: directly into the side of her face. She stumbled backwards, a real stumble. She held her cheek with her left hand. I did it, I had landed an actual punch. No, I had punched the shit out of her.

It…….. it didn’t feel very good. My fist felt dirty. My stomach slipped upside down. It should’ve been a moral thing, but I think it was mostly a cowardly fear of, “what now”? I watched her as she slowly looked back up towards me with hatred in her eyes. I can’t really remember, but I might’ve seen the slightest hint of amusement behind that hatred. I was stuck to the spot. Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t move. I definitely wanted to.

I definitely should have.

“Why’d you stop? You don’t stop in the middle of a fight.”

She bolted, so fast that I didn’t even try. I realized that she wasn’t trying to kill me, she was just playing with her food. Her knee came up hard into my stomach, as I heard a hollow crack.

Heard isn’t a good word, felt is better.

I’ve never had a cracked rib before, but it’s pretty easy to figure out that you have one the second that you feel it. I fell backwards, clutching my side in pain. I could hear my own labored breathing through my clenched teeth. She walked up to me slowly, and stamped her heel into my stomach as I gasped for air. My posture quickly scrunched on the floor, and as my head shot up, she grabbed it from behind and smashed it into her knee. I felt my nose begin to bleed profusely. She kicked me in the chest, as I fell back down flat to the floor. She climbed on top of me, ripped up both of my arms, and forced her full weight through her knees to pin them down. She spat blood onto my forehead and looked down at me.

“That was a good shot. I guess I should try now.”

The next couple moments were rough. Without any hesitation, resistance, grace or mercy, she relentlessly bore her knuckles into my face again and again and again. My mouth filled with blood. I coughed up globs between punches to avoid choking. My face went practically numb around the tenth hit. What followed was only a hollow repetitive pressure, like a hydraulic press being rapidly fired down onto my face. I helplessly maintained eye contact the entire time. Her face was riddled with an anger that felt horrifyingly familiar, but her eyes gave off a feeling of unbridled rage that was almost inhuman. After what felt like two full minutes of excruciating retaliation, she stood up, grabbed me by the shirt and effortlessly yanked me upwards. She carelessly threw me face first back into the ground. I felt the blood from my nose and mouth practically explode, pooling on the floor and coating my face. The sweet metallic taste swam around my lips as I felt a weight drop onto my back.

“F-Fuck, stop… Jesus Christ please stop….”

Overruled. 

I heard my voice crack. Lying there on the floor, my body was technically resting. All of the pain returned to my mind. My entire body felt like it was collapsing to cinders. Her hands wrapped around my right forearm and brought it behind my back. I tried to struggle to rip it away, but she was easily stronger than me. It was almost just like being tied up again. Her left knee landed on my opposite wrist, and I found myself completely pinned. I tried to use my knees to force her off, to which she began pulling my arm backwards in a direction that turned my vision blurry.

“FUCK! LET IT GO-STOP!”

She didn’t stop. With every movement I made, the pain worsened. What a clever way to get me to sit still. I stopped struggling.

“Goddammit, please. What do you want from me?”

I didn’t realize that I didn’t want to know the answer to that question.  I heard a light audible chuckle from on top of me. She let go of my forearm with one hand, still strong enough to pin it with the other alone. She grabbed my hair and forced my head sideways so my ear was facing her. I could just barely see her in my peripheral as she leaned down to me. Mouth right next to my ear. Bang just barely brushing my temple.

“‘What I want from you’? You wanna know what I want from you?”

My eyes were definitely watering. It was impossible to hide it from her. When I spoke, my voice was shaky and high pitched.

“What, what do you want? Just tell me.”

I could hear her lips curling into a twisted smile against my ear. 

“I want you to tell Elijah that you’re sorry.”

“….. what?”

She twisted my arm violently as I screamed.

“AGGGHHHH-“

“-Tell him you’re sorry. Say - ‘I’m sorry for speaking rudely to you, Elijah.’”

He wasn’t even here. Why would I say it now?

“You’ve got five seconds to say it before I break your fucking arm backwards-“

“-OKAY, okay……. I’m…….. I’m sorry for speaking rudely to you, Elijah.”

Her hair left my face as she backed up slightly.

“Well, that’s very mature of you, Cody.”

I closed my eyes, the pain in my head completely overbearing any hope of freeing myself. I sensed an approaching difficulty to pronounce words, so I got out the important ones.

“P-….. please….. please don’t kill me….”

She had said something back, but I don’t remember what it was. All I remember was one final imprint of her fist on the side of my head, crushing it against the floor, followed by sweet and forgiving unconsciousness. 

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

Wow, if I thought waking up was difficult before….

Cody Camargo: Five….. um….. actually I’m not really sure how long I’ve been in this room for. Let’s call it one week in to be safe. 

I didn’t have the notebook at this point. I had abandoned it after my rude awakening from the IKEA welcome party. I didn’t open my eyes for about an hour, mostly because I knew where I was. I felt the same restriction of my sore limbs, the same cold metal on my blistered face. My memory was a lot better, and my headache was a lot worse. Fantastic combination. At least they had cleaned the table. My face wasn’t lying in my own vomit but, sadly, I could still kind of smell it.

It’s frustrating to know that I’m playing a game of how long I can stay in my right mind for. It’s just an IKEA. I just wanted to go to a fucking IKEA. I guess it’s more funny than frustrating. Not laugh-out-loud funny perhaps but, simply from an ironically comedic perspective, it is pretty funny how wrong that one simple objective could have gone. I’m also assuming that once I start losing this game of composure, everything will become laugh-out-loud funny. Cut open part of my head and I’ll start responding to everything with the word “Halloween”. It feels like I already have the cut open head part. Back before I’d left my real world apartment, I guess I had known deep down that I was altruistically panhandling to the universe for success, and that any feasible plan would’ve still ended up with Chandler and Toby seeing me as a total lunatic. Going to buy a new bedside table would never have been the solution to the situation I was in. However, when I thought of the worst case scenario of what could’ve happened when I left that day…

This uhhh…. this wasn’t it. 

Yeah okay, let’s go to IKEA, how bad can Cody Camargo possibly mess that up? Find out on the next episode of…

——————

——————

After doing a twenty minute exercise of opening my eyes every couple seconds to adjust them, I heard the door to the holding cell open. Just slightly illuminating the dusty room now made my exercise impossible.

“Hey there, Mr. Balboa!” I heard Elijah say.

“Fuck. You.”

My lips were swollen, but I didn’t find speaking to be too difficult outside of my bone dry throat. I probably sounded dumb though. I opened my eyes, the exercise yielding pretty impressive results. My head was splitting, but the opening of my eyes was no longer completely the cause of that. Maybe I’ll just have a permanent headache until the day I die. I wonder how close that day is, maybe I can eventually just get used to it.

“Are you having a nap at the moment?”

“…… I’ve got a hangover.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Need a prairie oyster?”

I heard him kind of chuckling. I let him laugh with himself as I sat silently.

“Do you feel okay besides that?”

I valiantly fought to prop my head up on my chin for the express purpose of raising my eyebrow at him.

“Okay? That Lara Croft looking bitch put a hole in my lip the size of a fucking golf ball.”

Elijah tried to stifle it, but I could see him cracking a smile. Not a malicious one, almost one that said “Yep, I’ve been there”. 

“Well, in her defense, I heard you weren’t being the most cooperative person in the world”. 

“What did she say to you?!”

“Nothing I don’t believe. I mean, there is a reason I gave up and called in the big guns. I actually heard that you went easier on her than you did on me.”

Very funny.

I notice he’s holding a plate of food. Even my stomach grumbling is painful. I can remember the exact number of times I was hit by how bad each part of my body feels. My face was definitely doing the rocky pose on the winner’s pedestal, and my rib was a damn close runner-up.

“What, is she not allowed to talk to me? You’re not jealous, are you?”

I turned my face back to the side to ignore that.

“Oh come on, I’m just joking.”

“You’re not funny.”

Elijah stayed silent for a moment.

“Do you want to eat, or not? I can just give this food to someone who doesn’t call my friend a bitch.”

—————

So annoying.

“…….. what is it?” I sheepishly surrendered. 

With my ear to the table, I heard the sound of him placing the plate of food in front of me. I looked up again, expecting a piece of stale bread and a cup of toilet wine.

It was not that.

It smelled like a meal to my hungry stomach, but it was just….. I guess it wasn’t exactly kosher. A circle of baked ziti surrounded a strange bran-like cereal filling with a Swedish meatball topping. Seven Swedish meatballs to be exact, the sauce of them acting as the milk to the cereal. Everything was decoratively presented, with a Cinnabon placed like a cherry on top. I slowly look up at him.

“What the fuck is this?”

“I’m going to untie one of your hands. Which one is your non-dominant?”

I blinked a couple times. I moved my wrists around a little. For the first time I took note that they were tied to each side of the chair rather than each other.

“Right,” I lied.

He didn’t try to hide his smile this time. 

“Come on, man. That was such a softball. You think that bruise on her left cheek believes what you just said?”

A blanket of self-disgust rolled over me. Shit. I had kind of forgotten that I’d truly hit her. I didn’t exactly intend to. I mean, I guess I did, but it was in the heat of the moment, and she had me up against a wall basically yelling at me to do it. Plus, I was angry, confused, and petrified by the hazy reality of my situation. I still am all of those things, but I wouldn’t do it again. It felt awful putting genuine force into it. It wasn’t an accident, I wanted to hit her and I did. 

It’s just that….

Elijah prodded my forehead with his elbow as he moved behind me.

“You ever hit a woman before?”

I didn’t respond to that.

“Either way, you certainly did not pick the best woman to try it out on, as the hole in your lip would concur.”

I couldn’t argue much with that. I had only ever gotten into one serious fight in my life, and it wasn’t exactly a fair one. She , on the other hand, had offered me a level playing field. I had gotten my ass kicked fairly royally. 

“What was I supposed to do? Take the beating?”

I shivered at my own words. 

“Nah, you were right to fight back. She doesn’t like giving or receiving mercy. She honestly would’ve beaten even more of the shit out of you if you had stayed stoic.”

More? Was that possible?

As my left hand came free, Elijah walked back around the table. I inspect my now bandaged wrist, to see a crimson stain jutting like lightning down its length.

“Hey, you better not insult that meal. My buddy made it pretty special for you, and she isn’t exactly working with a full kitchen.”

He opens the door as my life flashes before my eyes. He reaches down and grabs a book that is sitting just outside of it, closing the door again as a second slam is heard behind it this time.

“Well, actually, she’s working with what is possibly the nicest kitchen known to man, but ingredients are a different story.”

Was he locked in with me? Had she been sitting just outside again?

“Your ‘buddy’?”

“Yeah, you met her.”

“You mean the girl that was hugging you? Is buddy your way of saying girlfriend?”

He shot me an olympically unamused face. He slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor and sitting cross-legged directly opposite of me.

“She’s not my girlfriend. Do you call every person that’s ever hugged you your girlfriend?”

Bullshit. I assumed that if that girl was his romantic companion, he probably didn’t want to give me any information that could put her in danger. Me, the dangerous prisoner. 

I groaned as I sat up straight in the chair and pulled the plate towards me.

“Hey, I don’t have a fork.”

His newest smile is definitely malicious.

“You think the cavemen complained about that?”

Surely they did, otherwise why would we invent forks, but I don’t think he was trying to sound intelligent rather than funny. I wasn’t laughing.

“Fucking prick.” I whispered under my breath. 

I’m sure he hears it, but I don’t take him as someone that would do something about it. I also didn’t think he would call Chloe Frazer back in to teach me some manners. I secretly prayed I was right about that. 

He suddenly sits up excitedly.

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for apologizing. I forgive you.”

I slammed my fist against the table.

“I said fucking. Prick. ” 

His smile disappeared. 

“Yeah, I heard what you said. Enjoy the food.”

He opened his book and looked down to it. I noticed a second pink bookmark was placed much further than wherever Elijah had reached in the story. I briefly wondered if he had said something genuine just now, and I had only assumed it was him being an asshole. I was very much too unhappy with him to care.

I started with the meatballs, plucking them out one by one. They were just meatballs, but damn I hated Swedish meatball sauce. It especially didn’t taste any better mixing with my blood. My hunger overpowered the taste, but not exactly the pain. Every bite hurt, as I probably should have guessed. I prayed the cereal would be soggy. It felt like I hadn’t worn my retainer for a year, and was trying to force it in again one night. My tongue reported that all my teeth were surprisingly still intact, but it felt like anyone could drop out with just the tiniest bit of excessive pressure. Once I finished three meatballs, I had to take a break. 

I sat there, doing some good old fashioned wallowing before looking up at Elijah. He was biting his thumb, looking very comfortable and enamored with his book. That must have been nice. I gave some more thought to the person in front of me. Even if he was trying to be an asshole, which seemed unlikely, he had saved me. 

Okay, here it goes.

“Hey um….. thank you….. for saving me.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look up.

“Hey, Elijah?”

His eyes refused to leave his book.

“Dude, I’ve been excited about getting to this part for days. Can you decide that you want to have an adult conversation later please?”

To being reasonable I waved goodbye. Parting is such sweet sorrow. I picked up a meatball, made sure it was covered in as much sauce as possible, and threw it at him. It splattered on the back of the book. He immediately shut it, closing his eyes and putting his hand to his face.

“Okaayyy Cody. Is there anything else you need from me besides saying ‘you’re welcome’ in order to make you feel better? Or is that literally all that you wanted?”

Goddamit, I was sure he wasn’t an asshole, he couldn’t be! So why was he being such a fucking asshole?

“Okay, so I cursed out you and her, and obviously threatened you and the douchebag. Why was I tied up for that?! I didn’t even do anything!”

“It’s just a policy.”

“A policy? For what?!”

“For newcomers.”

I paused. I felt so retarded. My mind was so useless and jumbled. How is he so calm? Doesn’t he know how horrible this place is?! 

I see his expression soften towards me.

“She said you claimed to be in here for four days before you found us………. is that true?”

“I…… yeah. I don’t know when I….. really showed up in the infinite part but….. four is definitely the minimum.”

He looked at the ground, clearly pondering something.

“Where did you sleep? How did you hide yourself?”

“I… didn’t really. I just found a bed each night and crashed.”

“That’s ridiculous. You would’ve been killed in your sleep the first night.”

Not very fun to hear. 

“Is that your guidance spirit way of telling me that I did die, and I need to accept it so my soul can move on?”

He rolled his eyes and sat silently for a moment.

“……. if you give me fifteen more minutes to read, I’ll tell you anything you want to know….. as much as I can.”

I didn’t really feel terrible for everything I’d said to him, but I definitely wished I had been a little less of a dick to the guy that was obviously willing to be cooperative with me.

“Okay.”

He didn’t respond, just picked up the meatball from the floor and ate it. Then, after wiping off the cover, he continued to read. Somehow, I found it kind of calming to watch. I Everest’ed what was left of the meal. The cereal was soggy, thank God. That didn’t make it any less bizarre, but strangely, it wasn’t horrible. The baked ziti was pretty good, hard to mess that up. After flicking off the sauce from the bottom of the Cinnabon, it was a rewarding dessert. 

I moved the plate and rested my head in the fold of my arm. It was a much better pillow than the table.

——————

——————

——————

I heard Elijah closing his book.

“Yeah, that was truthfully pretty sickening.”

I groggily looked up to see him putting it aside and adjusting his position to hold his legs in his arms.

“Okay well, I promised. Ask away.”

I thought around for a second. 

“What’s that girl’s name?”

Unamused wasn’t even applicable.

“Seriously, dude? That’s what you’re asking? Even after the ass kicking?”

I felt my face turn a little red. Could be from blushing, could be from every single one of my pores bleeding. It was a less subtle question than I wanted it to be.

“I’m not allowed to tell you anyway, so try to take that as a hint.”

I looked away.

“You’re not gonna…. tell her I asked you that, are you?”

He smiled a little.

“I kind of have to tell her everything you say but…. I think I can leave out the part about you being a masochist.”

I smile back at him slightly.

“Thanks……………. how many days have I been in here…. In this room I mean…”

He looks up at the ceiling in thought. 

“It’s still right around lunch time right now…… this is your fourth day.”

Cody Camargo: Eight days in.

I’m growing less eager to distrust Elijah. Is that naive? 

“What is this place?”

“Um… do you mean this outpost, IKEA, or existence in general?”

Less ambiguous wouldn’t hurt.

“The first two.”

“Well, I wish I could give a good answer to explain the IKEA. Probably Hell, or something adjacent to it. Maybe purgatory. Umm…. ‘not a nice place’ is definitely a good answer. Anyway, this place is ‘Return and Exchange’.”

“Return and Exchange?”

“Yeah, they only chose the name because they started building it under the sign that said that. It’s just…. a get together of some of the luckiest people who’ve been unlucky enough to be stranded in this very not-nice place. Community. Supposed salvation. I guess I can’t say supposed . It’s certainly kept my ass safe for the last three years.”

My jaw dropped, and yeah, it was painful.

“You…. you said three years? You’ve been here that long?”

“Heh, yeah. I was a little mad that they didn’t give me a badge or anything for the third one. Maybe when I get to five.”

My head began spinning again. Three years inside of an IKEA. I had gone practically insane from four days. Surpassing a month sounded ridiculous.

“How have you guys survived for three years in here?”

“Pffff, oh dude, I hate to break it to you. I’m basically still a newcomer, too. You would be theeee….. I think, eighth person that’s showed up after me. It doesn’t happen very often.”

I thought back to the giant crowd that had gathered around me during the confusion.

“How many people are here?”

“Right now? Ummmm… I’m pretty sure you make….”

He looked away as his face went distant for a second. He suddenly looked extremely sad.

“Elijah?”

He looked back at me as he almost jumped.

“Sorry, um…. I believe there’s 129.”

That number didn’t even faze me like it should have. I felt awkward all of a sudden. Elijah seemed calm, enough to be making jokes, but I doubt that anyone inside this place could be completely fine. I tried to lighten the mood a little before asking more questions about this ‘hell adjacent’ place.

“What book are you reading?”

His eyes kind of lit up a little. That felt good to see.

“Oh, um, it’s called ‘She’s Come Undone’. It’s pretty good.”

“Alright…….. what’s it about?”

“Just a girl’s dysfunctional life really. Not exactly a Sci-Fi or anything. It made Oprah’s book club…….. not sure what that means but, someone told me it means it’s bad.”

“What’s happening in it?”

“Well……… bad things.”

“Oh. Why do you keep reading it if it’s bad.”

“Nonono, it isn’t a bad story, just bad events. A guy wrote it from the perspective of a teenage girl, and it feels genuine and accurate coming from someone who’s never been there. Not that I’m a young adult female or anything.…. I don’t like what happened, and it’s weird that it did, but I especially don’t like that she’s a person who couldn’t prevent it, because it’s not her fault that she is. People are powerless to a lot of horrible shit like that, and it’s believable because people are helpless. To be honest, it kinda just felt like this was the first time that she acted how it seemed he wanted her to act, rather than what she would actually do as the character he wrote, like he wanted a necessary-“

Elijah continued talking for quite a long time as, truthfully, I stopped listening almost immediately. I started again in time for him to be done. 

“It’s like, he was the one taking advantage of her. The author I mean. Does that make sense?”

“I haven’t read the fucking book, dude.”

He rolled his eyes again. Dial it back, Cody. 

“……. what….. it kind of feels forced?”

He cringes a little. 

“Well yeah … for lack of a better term. Disingenuous if anything. Like I didn’t believe him, and in extension, her, for the first time. I don’t believe that she was that weak.”

Okay… I mean, it’s only so possible for an author to do that “genuinely”. People are sporadic. Most of the time even you don’t feel the way that you should or would usually feel, because that doesn’t have any definitive meaning. I could have said that out loud, but I had grown quickly bored of Elijah’s book club.

“So, you guys have a library here?” 

“Yeah. It’s somewhat impressive. Every once in a while, a bookshelf here will have a real book in it. Most of the time it’s just like 500 pages of random words scrambled around to look like one, so it’s definitely limited. Also, it’s almost entirely suited to the demographic of what a suburban wine mom would carry around in her purse, since the only reliable way we can get books in here is finding them on dead bodies.”

Both of our eyes widened at the extreme U-turn back to the previous darkness of our conversation. 

“Sorry about that. Thank you for steering away but, it is what it is. We’re here. I said I would inform you so….. it’s not gonna be the happiest conversation.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It is what it is. That was not exactly what I wanted to hear about this place.

“Is it really infinite?”

He chuckled a little.

“I doubt that anyone who knows the answer to that is here or alive.”

Fair enough. I was getting depressed again, but depression is strangely addicting. I still wanted more. 

“What are those things? The gray things?”

“Those ‘ gray things’ ? Lord knows. We just call them ‘The Staff’. Figured it was appropriate. It’s hard to look at those things and not think that this is some kind of sick joke. I mean, I don’t really have to think about it, I know it is definitely just a joke. Whoever’s playing it has got a pretty morbid sense of humor. Anyway, just monsters I guess, to put it gently. They’re not too much of a problem in here to be honest. We have people survey the walls and look out for them when they show up. They just pick ‘em off from above and take care of the bodies in the daytime.”

“So, it’s safe here?”

“Yeah, really safe. I think Robert, you know, the old guy that yelled at us, I think he’s been here for thirty-nine years now.”

I couldn’t believe that. I didn’t believe that. And yet, the fact that I didn’t, basically let me know that it was probably true. Thirty-nine long years trapped in this place.

“No wonder he’s such an asshole,” I said.

Elijah smiled wide.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

I smiled right along with him. It made me happy that he had said “yelled at us ”. His smile wavered a little.

“Truthfully though, I feel the tiniest bit bad for him.”

Oh God, incoming reason to make me feel like a piece of shit for calling a piece of shit with a troubled backstory a piece of shit. 

“His daughter went missing about three weeks back.”

“…….. in here? That’s….”

“Yep. Basically a guaranteed death sentence.”

“That’s right, I remember him yelling about……”

“Her name was Lizzie, she was only twelve.”

Ew. That left a bad taste in my mouth, besides the blood and sauce. A twelve year old girl, to die in a place like this, most likely more horrifically than any monster could ever deserve to die.

“That’s…… fairly horrible………… you said he’s been here for thirty-nine years so…… was she born here?”

“No, she had actually been here longer than me, but she showed up like most everyone else. She wasn’t really his daughter, but she showed up when she was only eight, so Robert had taken her in as his own. He had a little… arm candy back then that I suppose brought out a more family-man side of him. She um….. she’s not with us anymore either. Stroke in her sleep.”

Holy fuck.

“Well, I definitely feel like a piece of shit for yelling at him now.”

“Huh? Oh no, don’t. He’s a rude old bastard. Fuck that guy, seriously.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at hearing those words come out of Elijah’s mouth, even though it seemed a little inappropriate. Despite the entirety of only negative experiences I’ve shared with this boy so far, I had a moment of feeling like we were just friends talking casually. It was a really nice moment. My smile faded as I thought of the only other question that was begging to burst out.

“What are you going to do with me?”

Elijah’s smile faded just as quickly.

“….. I’m not allowed to tell you that.”

We both sat there in awkward silence.

“I…. I should probably go…. are you gonna try to kill me if I go to re-tie your arm?”

“No.”

I don’t know if he believed me, or just figured it would be an easy fight, but I couldn’t have done it even if I tried.

“Thanks.”

He re-bound me, took my empty plate along with his book, and exited the room.

——————

——————

——————

——————

Elijah returned a couple hours later to give me some water. I told him I had to piss. 

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I’ll have to go get a bucket and hold you at the point of crossbow.”

That was definitely ridiculous, but my need to pee was far more ridiculous. As dead as I already felt, I still cared about my body enough that I didn’t want to piss myself like an animal. 

“Whatever, fine.”

——————

——————

Elijah untied my arms, and let me untie my legs myself while he kept his sight on me. He looked incredibly out of place holding the crossbow, but I had seen firsthand how good he was with it. I assumed those weren’t lucky shots. I pissed into a plastic drawer. This place was definitely a joke. If Elijah hadn’t told me that this place was so old, I would say it was created by some lardass memelord millennial who found out he was God one day. 

I finished and zipped my pants back up.

“How do I re-tie myself without you thinking I’m trying to jump you?”

“Start with your legs, I can tell whether or not it’s tight enough.”

I sat down and handled the rope until Elijah approved of both limbs. 

“She almost broke your right arm, right? I doubt you could tie your left with that.”

“I can try.”

I reach behind the tiniest bit, hitting about halfway to the angle she had previously held my arm at.

“I can’t try.”

Elijah sighed and put down the crossbow.

“If I can keep the name thing a secret you can keep this a secret.”

He walked over without the weapon and tied me up himself. I didn’t try to struggle, and I didn’t feel like I wanted to. What would be the point in breaking out? 128 people would surely be able to handle me in my battered state with a crossbow I didn’t know how to use. I wonder who I would even be keeping his procedure break a secret from. That girl? Was she his boss?

“Thanks for cooperating. I mean it.”

“Thanks for helping me piss.”

Elijah strapped the crossbow around his back.

“Yeah you know…

He cringed as he picked up the now yellow sloshing drawer.

“My pleasure…”

——————

——————

——————

——————

Elijah gave me a loaf of bread. It wasn’t stale, but it wasn’t very filling.

I think that was my dinner.

——————

——————

——————

The lights went out outside the door awhile ago. The room is almost pitch black now. I can see the smallest amount of orange light through the window, but none of it is enough to illuminate this room. I haven’t seen Elijah in about six hours. At least, it feels like six hours, but I can’t tell time. Never before in my life have I done such absolute nothing. At least outside I was still walking and observing furniture. Being here with the same four walls, completely immobile, and nothing but my own internal monologue is challenging. 

Challenging isn’t a good word, grueling is better. 

I guess I should try and sleep. My cracked rib-side is killing me, it feels so hot. This table is certainly not as comfortable as the selection of comfy beds I’ve had in the previous days. I don’t feel mentally comforted enough to sleep, not even close. Focusing on the positive things seems to be on its highest difficulty setting. Being alive is the beginning and end of that current list. That is fairly big, but I’m definitely feeling like I’m in a pretty bad spot at the moment. I’m a prisoner, most likely awaiting judgment. How and when that judgment will come is surely impossible to know. Elijah says this place is safe, and I trust him, I really do. I want to stay here. What if I’m forced out there again, what would I do? I tried my best not to think about that. I didn’t know how closely I was being monitored, but I figured I was a little too mentally bogged down to care. So, I tried singing myself to sleep. Elliott Smith’s self-titled seemed like it would work the best. I think I got to Coming Up Roses before getting too tired to continue. I closed my eyes and waited to slip back into slumber.

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

Came up for air knowing I was dreaming. A beautiful sky of fire burned above me. Nothing had ever burned that bright in my life. Years of fire all in one sky. Out of my peripheral, a wave was rising fast. Underneath me, the water was beginning to boil. Heat was sewing itself into my skin. Every bubble seemed to pop with a little cloud of smoke. An entire school of fish surfaced dead around my limbs. Remember how to wake up. Make yourself wake up. Everything is burning. Tens of thousands of years are burning. Eons are burning. Staying means you’re giving up. Tell yourself whatever you want, but you know that you’re just too lazy to wake up on your own. I can’t. Nothing is working. Giving yourself the command to wake up is just like your brain running in a circle. Trying to break out of that feedback loop is impossible. Enjoy the nightmare while you can. Something will wake up for you if you just relax. Take your time. Imagine that you’re a fire in the middle of the ocean. Nobody needs you to do anything but burn yourself out. Go ahead and burn for as long as you need.

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

Cody Camargo: Eleven Days In

Elijah and I had built a routine over the past two days of my full lucidity. More accurately, someone else had built it, and Elijah and I were just performing it. Morning piss, two bottles of water, see you in four hours. Lunch, prepared by his absolutely positively definitely not girlfriend, one more bottle of water, see you in five hours. Afternoon piss, loaf of bread dinner, see you tomorrow. It seemed more like fortitude construction for my bladder than imprisonment.

I talked through eating my dinner tonight.

“She wants me gone, doesn’t she?”

“I can’t talk to you about this, Cody.”

“You wouldn’t be telling me what she’s deciding on, you’d just be telling me what she wants.”

“I’m not ‘telling you’ anything, and She, is not the only person around here that makes a decision.”

“Do you have a say?”

He fidgeted in place.

“………… finish your bread.”

He tied my arm back up.

“……. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

He opened the door, stopping before he closed it again.

“I’m sorry.”

The room was shrouded in darkness within what felt like the hour, as that apology stayed playing in my head over and over and over.

Sleeping was difficult that night.

——————

——————

——————

——————

Cody Camargo: Twelve Days In 

Sometime before lunch, I heard a loud banging on the door that almost made me shit myself. I heard the handle being fumbled with furiously for a few seconds before falling silent. I couldn’t see anybody through the window opening.

“Hello?”

I heard the smallest grasp of the door handle before silence followed. I sat there shaking in expectant fear for hours, until the door opened with Elijah walking in. He must have noticed me jump.

“Hey…. you alright?”

“S-somebody was trying to get in here!”

I saw the color slightly drain from his face, though he tried to sound confidently reassuring.

“Don’t worry about it, nobody’s gonna get in here without the key. Sorry if somebody scared you.”

That didn’t feel very reassuring. This place was a safe haven, and all of the people inside of it surely praised it like a religious figure for their salvation. If there was something inside of that safe haven which threatened their safety, wouldn’t they want to purge it? I wasn’t exactly convinced. Why was I dangerous? Elijah and my never-named daydream were the only two people who knew I was anything more or less than slightly problematic.

I just feel like I’m breathing an unwelcoming air. There has to be a better reason. 

——————

——————

——————

I finished my lunch. 

“Hey, Elijah?”

He looked up over his book.

“What’s up?”

“….. everybody’s mad at me about that boy dying aren’t they? They all blame me for it?”

He closed the book and stayed silent for a moment, but didn’t look away from me.

“……. I think it will die down. Patrick was……. Patrick was a really good guy. He was a very… load-bearing personality to everyone here. Everyone. I’m sure they’re just looking for anything or anyone to blame, you just got unlucky. I honestly do believe it’s more my fault than it could ever be yours.”

Of course that’s why. I had showed up, killed a Saint, and called my saviors assholes. Who did I think I was? They probably thought I was the antichrist, coming to dismantle them from the inside.

“……. was he your friend?”

That was a question that I truly felt like Elijah would not answer.

“………. yeah……. he was my best friend actually.”

I felt like that girl had just plunged her knee into my stomach again. I was impossibly trying to formulate some way to properly apologize, when Elijah quickly got up and started rebinding my limbs.

“Elijah-“

“-Don’t. I don’t wanna have this conversation.”

He grabbed my plate and his book, and swiftly left the room.

——————

——————

I shouldn’t have seen him for another five hours, but instead, he came bursting back through the door after just fifteen minutes. He slammed it behind him. I was worried about the look that he had on his face.

“I want you to tell me right now. Do you have anything to hide about yourself?”

There it is. I had almost convinced myself that if I focused on the problems of this new setting, I could forget about the past. I had offered my soul to God in order to be saved that night. I guess I wasn’t getting off so easily.

“Wh-….. what do you mean?”

I saw Elijah curling both of his fists. He was pumping his heel as if he was boiling over with anxiety.

“She’s gonna talk to you. She knows if you’re lying. She always does. You have to be honest. Crystal fucking clear. If you’re not, everything is just going to be so much worse. You have to tell the truth, no matter what it is.”

Elijah was scaring me. I would come to find out that Elijah and I were very much not referring to the same thing I was possibly “hiding”. I had been expected to admit something very different, but in my mind, this was the entire awful scenario slowly playing step by step again. He didn’t wait for my response. He exited just as fast as he had bursted in. I was left feeling extremely nervous. Before that banging on the door today, I was feeling almost hopeful. My relationship with Elijah had made me feel comforted in such a bleak and tremendous confusion. 

I felt mentally back to square one.

——————

——————

Neither of us said a word through the afternoon routine. Elijah never once made eye contact with me. I’m sure I didn’t have to answer him earlier, he could probably tell by how nervous his warning made me. Innocent people don’t get nervous. There was a terrible darkness approaching me again. Elijah left me alone for the night as I drifted in a whirlwind of dread. I wholeheartedly believed him about the living bullshit detector, it wasn’t hard to tell that nothing could slip past her. I would have to tell it all. Every detail. I would have to unload that slow buildup to the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my life. She would know. She would know how horrible I was. I’m sure she would have to tell everyone, and when everyone knew, that meant Elijah would know.

I cried myself to sleep that night. I guess I was getting better at it.

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

——————

Cody Camargo: Thirteen Days In

Lucky number thirteen. I don’t know if I’m the only one, but I feel like people change whether thirteen is lucky or unlucky every singular time they mention it. Mine felt like it was very much unlucky today. Elijah and I didn’t talk during my water breakfast. I tried to say “thank you” before he walked out. I received no response. What a stupid feeling. It was like the feeling of coming into school after doing something dumb the day before, waiting for the call requesting you to the principal’s office.

Well, that, or sitting at home and knowing that you can’t run. Knowing eventually there will be a knock at the door from……

The door opened at lunch time. My lunch was not there, and it wasn’t Elijah.

“I’m gonna ask a question. If you say anything that isn’t the answer to that question, I’m gonna punch you in the throat. We’ll keep doing that until I’m satisfied.”

I assumed that saying ‘okay’ to that would get me punched in the throat, so I stayed silent. She was holding a notebook, similar to the one I was originally recording in. I saw the bruise on her face. She moved to the spot where Elijah usually sat and leaned back against the wall, crossing her right leg over her left. 

“What’s the password to your phone?”

Oh yeah, I had forgotten about it completely. What a great start. 

“It’s… uh… 022311.”

She started jotting, and kept her eyes on the paper as she moved on.

“Full name?”

I wasn’t testing out the “you already asked me that” route.

“Cody Lewis Camargo…… L-E-W, not L-O-U.”

“Age?”

“23.”

“Date of birth?”

I almost, almost , audibly ticked.

“February 23, 2011.”

She sat silently for a second, before going back to writing.

“Shitty phone password.”

I wasn’t very creative, sue me (please don’t actually).

She wrote extremely quietly. Her absent desire to even look up at me was making me extremely uneasy.

“Race?”

Was that important? I guess this was technically a screening but, does that sort of thing really matter here?

“Caucasian.”

“No shit, be more specific. Isn’t Camargo Hispanic?”

A storm was on the horizon. I could hear the wind slowly beginning to whistle.

The name Camargo was long removed from its roots in my family. The last person that looked even slightly Hispanic was my grandfather. I guess they were all into pale women. I didn’t share the same taste. 

“It is Hispanic, but…. I don’t really have much of that blood in me, my parents are white trash.”

Her face wrinkled for a moment as she jotted. I read her eyes. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Latest form of employment, and current status, bar the obvious?”

“I was a bookkeeper.”

“More specific.”

“What do you mean?”

My throat clenched as her angry eyes looked up at it, not my eyes.

“Just describe your job in detail. Setting, salary, day to day.”

“I…. It was at a chiropractor in Eastover. It was a place called ‘Spinal Tapioca.’ $16 an hour with dental insurance. I only went into the actual makeshift-office three days a week.”

“What days?”

“Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. I worked from home the other two. I would just prepay invoices, make excel reports and send them to our owners.  Anything else was returning miscellaneous voicemails that the manager on shift didn’t have time for, or any other random busy work that somebody like an intern would do. There was a lot of time at home where I was…. not very busy.”

“You were doing intern work as a business’s bookkeeper?”

“It was a small business.”

“I can tell by that horrible name.”

I smiled a little. She didn’t look up to return it.

“You were still working there before you came here?”

I paused.

“Umm, no. I had been fired a few weeks prior.”

She stopped jotting for a moment, but didn’t look up.

“Reason?”

The beacon is pulsing in my stomach. The storm door is slamming on my porch. Wind chimes are flying off their hook.

“Legal allegations.”

She looked up at me as I met those eyes for the first time since that day. They spread a solvent of bittersweet yearning through my veins. I was much too distracted by them to notice her confidence waver, as she was so obviously not expecting me to say what I had just said.

“………. Go on?”

I didn’t want to.

“….. they…. didn’t like what they heard, so I was fired.”

I knew she could tell that I was stalling with that answer. Surprisingly though, she backed off.

“How many members of your immediate and extended family are currently living?”

“.. uh…. Mother, father…. two brothers…. step-father….. probably step-sister… I think that’s it…”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot. Do you know what extended family means?”

“Ummm….. my dads cat might still be alive…”

She looks up at me angrily. That was an honest to God attempt at a joke. I feel a phantom pain in my throat. She doesn’t move, but eventually looks down again.

“Significant other?”

I felt myself squirming in the chair. Not only because it was her asking that awkward question, but because….. well……

“No.”

She looks up.

“Ever had one?”

———————

———————

“…….. yes.”

“How many?”

“…….. just the one…..”

“When did that end?”

“…. A couple weeks prior…..”

“Wouldn’t happen to be the same ‘fired from your job’ kind of couple weeks prior, would it?”

I guess she hadn’t really backed off. Maybe I’m just that stupid.

“I don’t know how you want me to answer that question.”

She pushed up from the wall and began walking towards me. She threw the notebook and pen aside to the ground, stopped in front of the table and glared down at me.

“Legal allegations, huh? For fucking what?”

A window in my living room explodes. The wind is so full of rain as it’s fucking the interior. Vases are shattering. Pictures are falling from the mantle.

“Murder.”

She didn’t seem to jump or even flinch from that statement. Instead, she just stared at me. Just stared deep into me as her eyes overpowered my perception of time. I could feel her thought process gauging into my skin like her teeth, ripping through my nerves. 

After what felt like five minutes…

“Verdict?”

“……. Not guilty……”

It wasn’t a lie, but I knew she wouldn’t accept it.

“You ever killed someone?”

“…….. yes……”

“Was that what you were on for?”

I saved her some time.

“…………. They ruled self defense………”

She crossed her arms and turned around, walking slowly back towards the wall. She rocked back and forth, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

She spoke without turning.

“Was it your girlfriend?”

“……… her sister……”

“How and why?”

“………. She walked in on us…… she got angry…. started hitting me and wouldn’t stop…….. I got angrier……..” 

That was a lie, but it was easy to say since it was just as ridiculous as the truth. She didn’t call me on it, because she doesn’t know shit, and she’s full of shit to pretend she knows when someone is lying to her. The same way Elijah was full of shit for trying to make me scared of her. She turned around and looked at me. Not exactly disdain, more like intrigue.

“Anything more to that than her not approving of you?”

The wind carelessly guts my summer home, as its astronomical spiraling source slowly creeps up the driveway holding my housewarming present. 

I spoke with a new voice that was stoked with anger.

“We were in a bad place… her sister knew it. They told each other everything…..…….. one night I came over uninvited and….. forced myself on her…. I wasn’t trying to rape her… I just dreamt in my head that…. if we had our first time…. It would fix everything…. She would love me again……”

Now she looked at me with disgust. If she ever did in the first place.

“So her sister sees you with her, probably screaming, and comes to help…….”

I prayed to God that she had enough as I felt myself on an edge.

“How’d you do it?”

I wanted to say it to her, but pulling it out of myself was like extracting a vital organ. There was so much attached to that bloody memory that I didn’t want her to know, no matter how angry I was.

“…. I……. I smashed her temple into the corner of the bedside table……. it just…….”

I wanted to be done.

“No. Say it. Describe it.”

I wished I could start crying. I tried to talk through the iceberg in my throat.

“It just…… caved….. I know that we’re fragile but……. It just sh… shattered immediately…… I felt it get crushed in my hand….. she…… she just went limp…………. I knew what it was….. I knew what happened the second she dropped…….. I had never seen…. I had never seen someone die, much less been the reason but…. it… it wasn’t like unconsciousness….… it was like she was double her body weight instantly the way that she fell……..”

I sat there heaving, getting more antsy by the millisecond as she stared at me, probably wishing she had thrown me out the second those two had originally requested it.

“Why were you in a bad place…. You and your girlfriend…. was it equal blame…….”

The tornado is forcefully prying the foundations from the dirt. Slowly, one piece of wood at a time, the house deteriorates in place, becoming one with the mass of its predator.

“………… she said I was being obsessive……… she wanted space….. I didn’t want us to have space…..”

“You didn’t want her to have space. You didn’t want somebody else to have her-“

“-SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!

The house is gone.

I didn’t care if I was punched in the throat or anywhere else. I had reached a tipping point of insanity. I had to scream simply to distract myself from telling the whole truth. Even as I was white-lying through my teeth, that statement had made me see red. I extracted the non-essential emotion.

“YOU DON’T KNOW! SHE WRAPPED ME AROUND HER FUCKING FINGER! SHE KNEW HOW EASY I WAS TO MANIPULATE AND SHE TREATED ME LIKE AN ANIMAL! SHE MADE ME OBSESSED WITH HER! SHE’S A MANIPULATIVE LYING POWER HUNGRY WHORE!”

“Heh.”

I was shaking as she started laughing. Not laughed, started laughing, and continued laughing, hard. She put her hands on her knees, as her stomach heaved again and again, laughing as if she had just lost her mind. My fists curled as it felt like her hyena howling was so massive that the roof was about to cave. She cackled through her mocking words.

“And yet….. you were obsessed with her.” 

I began writhing in the ropes like it was an electric chair. Her laughing grew even louder. I had never said I was obsessed with her. I didn’t even have to worry about telling the truth as my mind focused simply on my disdain for this woman in front of me.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! LET ME OUT OF HERE! GET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR! GET ME THE FUCK OUT!”

She slowed her laughing. After staying silent for about thirty seconds, she looked back at me with that same look of hatred I mirrored for her. 

“Don’t worry…… you’re not staying here.”

My storm is all there is.

“You sick little fuck.”

My storm is all there ever will be.

She exited the room, slamming the door behind her. Through the red, I looked down at the notebook on the ground.

Not a single word was written.

 

(Part Five Coming Soon!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey guys! Sorry for the long part, I didn't realize how massive it was as the outline of it was a lot shorter than the surrounding ones. I guess it went a lot longer with the dialogue taking a foot for the real first time. It took me a while to feel comfortable releasing this one, as it felt very divisive in my head. It's a somewhat big lore dump, but the idea of these first character interactions was always a huge pivotal moment in the story to me. This is where you really get acquainted with Elijah... sort of. It's hard to do a Reservoir Dogs-type leg of a story where everything you know is taking place in one room, so Elijah is kind of the flower that lights up that literary claustrophobia. I like the contrast of Jane Doe (I could tell you the name here, but that wouldn't be very fun) in these early parts as well. I'm sure you can piece a good amount of character arc together on your own for her, but I love the backwards anger that surrounds her from Cody. He's misogynistically angry every time that she speaks, but also is incredibly nervous around her for many obvious reasons. As much as I am in love with these first sparks of all three of them forming dynamics, their first interactions are almost equally just a vehicle to explore the idea of what "this place" is. It's cool to know that, even with the mountain of knowledge he has in comparison to Cody, Elijah is almost just as lost for answers as to the why of the situation. It's an addictingly overwhelming emotion to play with, and it makes this section of the story to be one of my favorites. I just love the droplets of context slowly becoming a framework of how scary the world is to personify for Cody's impractical mind.

 

Anyway, there's only so much I can expect you to listen to me talk. I think this one is really fun in its own way, so I hope you guys like it!

 

Thanks so much for reading, see you soon!