Chapter 15

Saturday

I wake but don't move in the sleeping bag. The hum dies, and I hear the door slowly swing open. From out of sight, I hear the sound of someone entering and slowly stepping over to me. 

I close my eyes, and wait.

They stand close, not moving. 

Did she see me? No way she saw.

Another moment goes by. I feel eyes watching me, then I gently feel my cover being peeled back from my face. 

The cool air hits my face, and I gently whimper for affect. Another moment and the sleeping bag is gently laid back across my face.

Her footsteps walk back to the entrance. I hear something hit the ground at the door, sounds open. I hear nothing for a moment, then quiet steps walk until I can't hear. I wait another couple of minutes before slowly looking over my shoulder towards the door. 

A backpack sets next to the open door. I get up unsure, looking out the window. It's early. So early, I see my breath. The sun is covered by a grey sky. No one is around.

I'm freezing, but I take my first steps outside my cell. I slowly take in the view of freedom. It's a trap.

But I'm alone. Completely alone. I walk around my cell. Taking it in, I see how it's camouflaged into the wilderness surroundings. It's shaped, and looks exactly like a large boulder made of clay. An art project? A very large, art project. Three other large boulders surround the vicinity.

"Smart." I say to myself, admiring whoever's work.

I walk back inside and take the backpack, and open it. Inside, an axe, a yellow GAP hoodie. Obviously females, but it's warm and fits, kind of. Two water bottles, some snacks, two MRE's, a pen and paper. Last but not least, a fresh pack of smokes, and a cheap gas station lighter. 

I put on my pants and thermal socks, considering my options. I could take the food, water and run. Try and make it back to civilization on what little I have. My feet reminding me how difficult it will be. Or I can take this opportunity to get fire wood for the cold night.

I chose the ladder. Not wanting to leave my captors. I try not to think they have a hold over me. My choice is free will. Not of lust.

It doesn't take me long to find dead and dying trees. Twenty yards away I begin chopping smaller victims. I break down three trees, dragging them back to my shelter. I cut them down, and sweat under my layers. 

It's chilly outside, and the sweat drops my temp. I cut the trees down to manageable chunks, stacking them inside. The pile looks like it could last me a couple of nights, but I don't know how much I should grab.

I return outside to grab the rocks for a small fire pit, and finish my makeshift heating source. I'm dirty, sweaty. Finally feel like a man. I gather wood. I make fire.

After completing, and being ready for tonight's cold, I head outside and admire the view restricted. I wonder the immediate area, grabbing an armload of small branches. I climb on top of my cell, and set on the fake boulder, enjoying my silent surroundings.

Mountain to my left. Valley that leads to another mountain range to my right. Trees and green grass in between. Almost doesn't feel like I'm in the lower forty-eight. 

I randomly notice a cactus tree, and the black circle in its center. Another camera. 

I fetch the pen and paper, then return to my spot. I write "not running" then a moment later "join me" and motion at the view all around. 

No response or noise, so I write another note, and another.

"Free smokes" and "bring marshmallows", still no response.

So I give up, and stare off, enjoying my new backyard. The pen finds its way to the pad, and before I know it, I'm sketching both sets of their eyes. My art skills have diminished since grade school, but my memory is razor sharp. 

I focus, and work. For the first time since I can remember, I draw like a child. The sun runs over my shoulder, and the breeze dips colder. I make my way back to my cell, working at the fire until my room is lit by fire and fading sun.

The sun drops past the mountain, and the air is immediately ten degrees cooler. Inside my cell, it's warm from the flaming fire. My picture is placed at the window, still attached to the notepad. Their eyes watch me wherever I walk. 

Fitting. 

The night comes, and I eat, smoke, and think. Setting in this purgatory, I have nothing but time to consider my decisions in life. I wonder if I was supposed to run, was this their way from letting me go? Did I just get myself killed? 

No. They wanted me to know, to see, I have options, I can leave. This isn't a real kidnapping. This is a game, they won't execute me.

Right?

Second guessing myself helps time slow down, and the night becomes darker as my mind takes me to places I'm unsure if I can swallow.

They're going to kill me. This is all part of the game. They don't love you. How could they? You're a man, the target. Everything you know, and seen, how can I think about trust? 

Everything is black surrounding me, trees the mountain hidden from sight looms as a large black mass behind me. I walk around, seeing only the valley lit up by moon and stars. My breath visible, I can't go far without returning to fire. 

I spend the night inside, sticking my picture to the wall with pieces from their chewed floor candy. The fire lights the room as my mind blinds me, I begin writing my thoughts, leaving them my heart on paper.

I've always been able to strike with pen better than mouth or fist. 

"You have stolen me from my life, and the heart from my chest. You may label it away, but inside, you know you feel it as well. We can't just go back to our normal lives. Not now. You know that, and you're questioning your next moves. Never give up on what if. We could make it happen. Look at what you've accomplished to this point. No one will ever know about this time. Regardless of if I'm wiped away or not. This is the most special time, in my stupid little life. I wouldn't trade this for anything. You are my angels."

I rewrite it, over and over. Throwing away edits into the fire until the final note looks perfect. I leave it attached to the notepad, setting it next to me so nothing destroys it. 

Before curling into bed, I refill the fire. Enough to relight and go when I wake. I'm unsure if I'll get another opportunity for wood, but something tells me to go with my heart. Trust in them. They could kill me at any time, and somehow I'm kept safe. 

I think about life without them as I curl up in my bag, I don't want to after feeling the depression in my gut. So I think of a better life, the fantasy life. Living somewhere out here, with my dogs. Not working for a corporation, college kids. Working at some mom and pop establishment by day. Going home to them at night. They could retire at this line, do something better. I could retire from my truth seeking, maybe write fiction. Never saying how we came to be, we just did. 

I imagine not having to worry about bills, money. Just being happy. Nights of kinky sex, and romantic dinners for three. Every man's dream. To me, it's not just the sex, it's the ability to tame and ride someone's crazy. To see them at their strongest, and weakest, and be there without batting an eye in fear. 

Somehow I don't see it as me getting more. Somehow I feel I deserve this. The pain and backwardness of it all. The glory and hard work. If, if I can somehow live through this, find a new life, a new love, I've somehow conquered life. The life I've ignored for so long.

My thoughts drift into oblivion as I believe on some level, I've already won. 

They wait for me at night when I close the world away; in my mind I hear their voices.

"About time young man."

"Are you trying to avoid us?" 

They say it like we've lived years together in this fantasy world. I picture them, pulling me to the bed. Wrapping their spider arms around me. Sealing me to the bed in a cocoon of blankets and appendages.

I imagine their warmth keeping me in bed during those cold early mornings. I would burn my sick days as soon as winter hit. I would work out, go all "He-Man". Quit smoking. Run. 

Get as much out of this shell as I can. Thirty years, if I'm lucky. Probably die sooner due to some night of kinky sex. If I'm lucky.

I see them older, both setting together, alone at my funeral. I see them crying, the scene is cast in a white hues, the sky orange.

This was my life. And I'm grateful for every second.

Chapter 16

Saturday, late.

"Glory Box"

She parks the cart plenty of distance and behind rows of trees, making her way by memory, she doesn't need the moon light, she could make her way out here blindfolded. 

So many men, so many targets. So many nights of torture. Coming out here in the middle of the night, was always for more pain. Tonight, could be the first in memory, she comes out, out of curiosity. 

She walks gingerly, stepping quietly along the rocks, until she sees the lit up cell. Funny, the first time she's ever seen it lit up at night. The first and only target that got an axe, a weapon, or tool. It must be taken, that can be the excuse. 

The truth, she wanted to see what he spent all night, writing and rewriting. What was so important that he stayed up till three am, killing his eyes for?

She tiptoes towards the open door; the campfire is burning bright, and his lump of mass moves up and down inside the sleeping bag. The notepad and his cigarettes lay on the ground next to him. The axe lies at the front door, in the open. Above him, stuck on the wall, something catches her eye.

She steps inside, still aware to look for any signs of traps, but the cell is bare. On the wall above him, he's drawn two sets of eyes. It's their eyes. Shaking her head slightly with a smile, she looks closer, and thinks, has anyone ever done this for me?

Looking down to him, his eyes closed, she leans close and watches his short breaths. His aura is passive, she can tell when one fakes, and he's completely at peace. 

Bending down, she takes the notepad, keeping an eye on him, she begins to read.

The last paragraph makes her read again.

"I feel again, and want to actually risk my heart by giving it to you. You are the first time I have attempted to do so in so long, I don't know what I'm doing. You have to help me. You have three choices, you can accept me, this, and we can find a way to make it work. You can release me back to "normal", to a world I don't exist in or kill me. 

There are only two choices. I don't want to live without you."

His heart, on paper.

Finishing his words, she imagines his fantasy, with every fiber in her body telling her no, she sees past and considers a "what if". The one in a billion scenario.

What if, they stayed, together? Undue everything she's been taught, everything she's worked for. 

"For what, a man? Another man, preventing you from your absolute greatness" she could already hear from professor Kurtz.

"Domesticated. Domesticated and obedient just like every-other!"

Her words echo out of fear, while his out of love. She watches him for a moment, his sleeping; she's moved to touch his face. He moves in his sleep towards her hand after she pulls away, causing her to smile.

She quietly leaves taking the axe, and quickly tearing his words from the notepad, leaving it at the entrance, and closing the door. 

No need for electricity, we've obviously moved past that.

The trip seems faster, back to the mansion, her heart fluttering, almost like she's decided yes, and her body responds with endorphins. Time slows but the trip in darkness is sped.

Imaging accepting this choice, this life. His search for the truth, it would lead to wanting to know all her darkness. All her truth. 

This strange life of theirs. Hers, his, and hers. It could lead to something more than what society would accept, or could understand. Their wants, desires. Their shortfalls and weaknesses. 

Could it be the strange element missing, or the downfall of something she's worked for her whole life?

It hits her as she comes out of the wilderness to see the family estate. Everything she's worked for, her whole life could be thrown away. On a target, a man. 

Chapter 17

Saturday, smidge later.

"And All That Could Have Been"

The sound of a cart pulling up close wakes me from my sleep, and I look around confused. The fire still alive, the door is shut and the axe is gone. My notepad is moved by the door. Then I see her. The blonde.

She looks furious as she yanks the door open, and over to me.

"Stand up!" She yells.

My note in her hand, crumpled.

"What is this!?"

I try to stand in a hurry, and she shoves me back to bed. I almost laugh, but the anger on her face freezes me.

"Explain! Explain this shit!"

She shoves me back down again, my note shoved in my face crumpled in her fist.

My heart on paper, crushed in her anger.

"You want to strike my heart, and end it with love me, or kill me! You want me to go to sleep, knowing this idiot has fallen in love with us, and doesn't want to live without us! Get up! Get up!"

"I...I can't-"

POP! 

My face stings hard from her left hand, hitting my face blindly.

"No, no get on your knees. You want this, fine!"

She pulls a pistol from her waistband, and my heart freezes in shock. I stifle a breath, realizing, this is it. 

This is it. 

We stare at each other for a moment; both our eyes begin to water. I nod, closing my eyes. 

I get out of the bed, my eyes not wanting to open, not wanting to look into hers.

"What was that?" I hear from above, her voice wavering.

"It was the truth." I say into darkness. I have to swallow to stifle tears.

"You want me to live with that, knowing that. Knowing you would, you would rather be dead, than living without us? You don't even know us!"

I breathe a moment, before finally opening my eyes, "Let me in."

It's her turn to stifle a breath, tears running down both our faces. The gun pointed at my face.

I hold my gaze into hers, holding my hands up at my sides, I push her by standing back up.  She's on the brink of shooting or breaking, and I slowly point the gun into my heart, so our view isn't obstructed.

It's then I see her face is so pretty, so stoic, even when she cries. My gesture causes more tears. I wait for the flash and the feel of my heart exploding in my chest at any moment.

 "Last words?" She angrily questions.

"Burry me some place nice, and take care of my kids. Come visit me every once in awhile...think...think of the life...we could have had."

I can't hold it in. Closing my eyes, doesn't hold back the tears. Knowing I'm going to die, right here, right now. Going to sleep thinking I was safe, waking to this.

Ask and you shall receive.

I am receiving that moment of death, that moment of regret. Not wanting it to end like this. Not now. Not right now.

"Is this...what you want?"

I don't hold back, "God, no! I want you! I want your love, your eyes, your heart! I want to be the one, one of the ones, to make you smile. Every day. I want you to grow to love me, want to be the one to make me smile. Grow old together. White picket fence and all that shit! Why am I speaking s foreign language with you? Why is this such a no?!" 

"Because, it just is." She says with broken hearted sincerity. 

I feel it. She's not lying. She can't let me live.

There it is, and we both know it in this moment. So I take my final deep breath, and accept it. The life that could have been.

"Ok then solider, you have a job to do." My eyes never breaking from hers.

There is a moment, where both our eyes run at the same moment, and I think, I can live with that being the last thing I see, so I close them. 

And wait.

In the black, I imagine this happening all so different. Waking to both of them accepting me, taking me in. The three of us embracing. I see living out here, exploring the land. Bringing my dogs back. Enjoying the-

Then my face is in pain. Crushed, my face takes punch after punch. I feel her fury and rage unleashed as she punches me until I can't stand. I hit the ground, my head bounces off something hard and she's still on top of me. 

Yelling fists into my face.

I don't even fight back; I just feel her fists hitting me. Over and over. My head bounces off the concrete. Another fist. Ground cold. Then black.