Everything hurts. The left side of my face is swollen, and probably badly bruised. I think one of my ribs is broken, but the pain is so intense I keep blacking out before I can tell for sure. The Crocodile gave me the pounding himself as soon as he’d gotten me safely back into the tiny cell. Punishment, he said, for running away. At least my nose has stopped bleeding for now. I could taste the fresh blood earlier. It hurt too much to move to wipe it away. Just breathing brings waves of fresh agony. Worst of all, they’ve taken Amy from me. Any amount of composure I had left is long gone. I haven’t stopped crying since the beating began. It only adds fuel to his rage, but it’s not like I can help it. If I had the strength to do that, I'd be escaping again to look for her. As it is, all I can manage is a pathetic whimper as a bucket of icy water is thrown over me.
“Wakey, wakey, Finny. Your mommy wants to talk to you.”
He hauls me to my feet, ignoring my shriek of pain at the sudden movement, and presses a phone to my ear. It takes a second for the chatter on the other end to make sense, for my mother’s voice to register.
“Mom?” I rasp, my voice hoarse. They still haven’t given me anything to drink, and it’s taken its toll as much as the beatings. She’s sobbing on the other end.
“Finn! Oh God, Finn! Where are you, baby? Tell me anything you can! We’re going to get you home, ok? Everything’s gonna be alright, I promise! Just tell me where they’re keeping you!”
I try to answer, I really do. But the words won’t come. Even if I could tell her, I don’t know where I am.
“They took her, they took Amy! You gotta find Amy, mom. Please!” I manage to choke out before the Crocodile takes the phone away, shoving me hard to the floor. The last thing I hear before blacking out again is his voice in my ear.
“Your girlfriend’s dead, pal. Her parents couldn’t pay up, so she wasn’t useful no more. Good thing is though, thanks to you, I didn’t even need to waste a bullet. She died slow and painful, begging me for water.” His gurgling laugh sounds, then the door slams shut behind him. I’ve never felt hatred like this before. It consumes my whole being, burning and freezing my insides at the same time. I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll kill him if it’s the last thing I do.
I lose track of time, of my surroundings. Sometimes he’s there, leering at me, sometimes I’m alone. Once or twice he tries to force feed me. I’m too weak to fight back, but the moment his back is turned I throw it up again. Hatred is replaced by an apathy deeper than anything I’ve ever known. I want to die more than I want to live. The pain is constant, never ebbing, never leaving. I don’t even feel it anymore when he kicks me. Eventually, as the black outs keep coming, I start to hope I won’t wake up. At least it would be an end to the nightmare, and that’s all that matters anymore. When they killed Amy they killed the last bit of hope in me. There’s no point in fighting it anymore. Dying would be a relief.
I don’t react as the door to my cell crashes open and I’m hauled once more to my feet. I vaguely register that someone untied my ankles, if not my wrists, and a black hood is being shoved over my head. There’s movement around me, and I’m stumbling forward awkwardly, kept upright only by several people pushing me on. I’m too numb to be afraid, too tired and in pain to try and make sense of the shouts. I’m tossed into what I think must be a car, then thrown to the floor as it rumbles forward. An image suddenly comes to mind, so clear I could touch it. Amy. Amy the way she looked before fear ever twisted her face, before we were captured, before we got stuck in the canyon. Amy yelling at me for something or other. What was it? It takes me a second to remember. The dare. She wasn’t happy about the dare. For some odd reason, the memory makes me grin. It was such a stupid thing. How did it go so wrong?
“Wakey, wakey, Finny. Your mommy wants to talk to you.”
He hauls me to my feet, ignoring my shriek of pain at the sudden movement, and presses a phone to my ear. It takes a second for the chatter on the other end to make sense, for my mother’s voice to register.
“Mom?” I rasp, my voice hoarse. They still haven’t given me anything to drink, and it’s taken its toll as much as the beatings. She’s sobbing on the other end.
“Finn! Oh God, Finn! Where are you, baby? Tell me anything you can! We’re going to get you home, ok? Everything’s gonna be alright, I promise! Just tell me where they’re keeping you!”
I try to answer, I really do. But the words won’t come. Even if I could tell her, I don’t know where I am.
“They took her, they took Amy! You gotta find Amy, mom. Please!” I manage to choke out before the Crocodile takes the phone away, shoving me hard to the floor. The last thing I hear before blacking out again is his voice in my ear.
“Your girlfriend’s dead, pal. Her parents couldn’t pay up, so she wasn’t useful no more. Good thing is though, thanks to you, I didn’t even need to waste a bullet. She died slow and painful, begging me for water.” His gurgling laugh sounds, then the door slams shut behind him. I’ve never felt hatred like this before. It consumes my whole being, burning and freezing my insides at the same time. I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll kill him if it’s the last thing I do.
I lose track of time, of my surroundings. Sometimes he’s there, leering at me, sometimes I’m alone. Once or twice he tries to force feed me. I’m too weak to fight back, but the moment his back is turned I throw it up again. Hatred is replaced by an apathy deeper than anything I’ve ever known. I want to die more than I want to live. The pain is constant, never ebbing, never leaving. I don’t even feel it anymore when he kicks me. Eventually, as the black outs keep coming, I start to hope I won’t wake up. At least it would be an end to the nightmare, and that’s all that matters anymore. When they killed Amy they killed the last bit of hope in me. There’s no point in fighting it anymore. Dying would be a relief.
I don’t react as the door to my cell crashes open and I’m hauled once more to my feet. I vaguely register that someone untied my ankles, if not my wrists, and a black hood is being shoved over my head. There’s movement around me, and I’m stumbling forward awkwardly, kept upright only by several people pushing me on. I’m too numb to be afraid, too tired and in pain to try and make sense of the shouts. I’m tossed into what I think must be a car, then thrown to the floor as it rumbles forward. An image suddenly comes to mind, so clear I could touch it. Amy. Amy the way she looked before fear ever twisted her face, before we were captured, before we got stuck in the canyon. Amy yelling at me for something or other. What was it? It takes me a second to remember. The dare. She wasn’t happy about the dare. For some odd reason, the memory makes me grin. It was such a stupid thing. How did it go so wrong?