AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter has depictions of violence and self harm (I hate this term but...) trigger warning. if you don't feel comfortable reading these scenarios, please skip reading this chapter. I will make sure to catch you up to speed in the next one I promise. You have been warned!
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It had been three weeks. Three weeks since she had last seen him, heard his voice. She managed to keep track of her solitary days on the back wall, twenty one lines.
Ava grew more impatient with every day. Finally she decided she was tired of waiting, tired of not knowing. Her captor only opened the door while she slept. She would always wake to food and water and the bucket in the corner of the room would be emptied. He had yet to come today. She knew what she had to do. She sat and closed her eyes, faking her rest and she waited. It was the last time she would.
After twenty minutes in the silence, she heard the door creak. She opened her eyes ever so slightly. She saw him, mask in place, black gloved hands, he wasn't paying attention to her. She knew this was it. jumping up and lunging at the door, she was a split second too late. He slammed the door closed just in time for her to smash into it. Screaming, she banged ferociously on the metal door and demanded answers.
"Where is Henry?" She demanded to know.
Silence. He just stared back at her through the small window on the door, not even large enough to stick a hand through, but large enough to peak at the other side.
"What did you do to him?" She screamed.
He turned around slowly, and walked up the stairs. He no longer acknowledged her presence.
Turning away from the door, she slid her back down and rested her head in her knees. The tears began to fall, but then she looked next to her where he had been crouched down. He was putting her tray down for her to eat. She had just assumed it would be the usual stale, shitty, bread and murky water. Occasionally there would be some sort of canned vegetables or scraps of what she concluded was his meal. This time it was different. Chicken breast, a baked sweet potato, a glass of milk, and a bowl of strawberries.
She cried a bit more, a last meal perhaps. Her hunger took over her other senses, like an animalistic instinct. Quickly, she picked up the food with her hands, completely disregarding the utensils next to the plate. She had almost forgotten what real food tasted like. Sweet and savory flavors overwhelmed her and eventually she felt full for the first time since she arrived in that god forsaken place. Although her stomach, full and satiated, she still felt a dull aching emptiness inside. If he was dead, it would only be a matter of time until she was next.
She still had so many questions. Did he suffer in the end? Was he scared? Then she thought about herself. Why wasn't she scared for herself, her life? Why did the idea of death sound better...it was a terrible life but, it was something. She always, no matter how bad life got, took solace in the fact that others had it much worse. There would be a sense of guilt in her complaining when she had a considerably good life, but now that was no longer the case. She was living the "much worse".
She was sick of sitting around, crying, day in and day out. She was tired of being alone, not being heard. She wanted out, one way or another.
Then she looked at the tray, her milk. Glass.
Drinking what little had been left, she smashed it against the wall, hard enough the break it but not to shatter it.
She picked up a shard and held it to her arm.
She thought about it. Then she thought about her mom. Her smile, her laugh, their jokes, dancing in the kitchen and eating brownies. She thought about her friends, she thought about her favorite teacher. She thought about the little things, the feeling of her favorite blanket, the smell outside after a big rain storm, drinking hot chocolate. All the good things, all the reasons not to drag this shard of glass up her arm. They were all things of the past.
Then she thought of the reasons that the glass was even there. She thought about that day, walking home from school. She thought about waking up here, running from her captor, losing her only shot at an escape, she felt her hands bound, unable to move, unable to stop the sound of his screams. Henry, he was hurt because of her, now probably dead because of her too. She cared for him, and now she lost him. She thought about where his body might be buried, in the field maybe. How was he killed? What was his last thought? What was the last thing that he saw?
Her chest felt tight, her eyes were closed. Those images were racing through her mind, as she felt the sharpness prick her skin and draw blood.
All she had to do was drag it towards her, just for a second and this would be over. She would be free. She felt it move. Blood, trickling down. Dripping onto the floor around her feet.
She heard him, coming down the stairs. The sound of the glass shattering must've alerted him.
She thought quickly and blocked the door with the metal chair, used to keep her immobilized before. She moved back to the middle of the room, facing the door, placing the glass back into the wound.
'For once' she scolded herself, 'have the courage to do something for once and then it's over'.
"Hey, what's going on in there?" Came the deep, bone chilling voice.
She remained silent. Feeling the blood drip, trying not to think about the pain. She dragged it a little more, the wound, now at least two inches in length.
He pushed his face to the door to see through the small window. His eyes fell on her, swaying in the middle of the room, blood dripping from her arm. His eyes widened in fear.
"Stop it! Put the glass down Ava!" He screamed.
She looked at him as he struggled to open the door.
"Tell me what you did to Henry? Please, just tell me. I need to know." She cried.
"Ava, put the glass down. Let me in so I can wrap that wound and then we'll talk." He said calmly.
"Tell me what you did? Where is he? What did you do?" She screamed frantically as the sobs took over her body.
"Open the door Ava, I'll explain everything." He said, growing more impatient.
"You're not going to tell me shit, are you?"
"Ava, open the God Damn Door!" His voice grew thick with anger.
"No." she said softly, her eyes dim and determined. She right at his frightened face and dragged the glass the rest of the way. Warm liquid engulfing the rest of her arm, spilling onto the ground.
"Ava no!" He screamed.
He rammed his whole body into the door. It took him three tries before it finally budged. He rushed to the center of the room and held her in his arms.
"Ava? Stay with me Ava, please!" He shouted at her body as it went limp. The blood puddling around them as he pressed into the wound to force it to stop.
She looked into his blue-gray eyes. Something was so familiar about them.
"Ava please, I love you Goddammit!"
She reached a bloodied hand out for his mask and pulled down.
She gasped with what little breath remained in her lungs. The betrayal was in her eyes as her lower lip quivered and her heart broke.
"Hhhh....Henry?" her voice barely above a whisper.
She felt empty, waiting for death to come and bring her mercy. She could feel him trying to put pressure on her arm as her body grew colder.
"Ava! Look at me Ava, I'm right here. Keep your eyes open and look at me." She didn't comply with his pleading.
The last thing she saw, were his intense sobs over her body as her world went dark. She honestly hoped it was for the last time.