Session 6

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A whole week passed with a shitload of nothing. Everything blended, really. I couldn’t tell a weekday from a weekend, I couldn’t tell pain from anger, and I definitely couldn’t tell if Keenan was human or not. I was leaning towards the not side of that, but I didn’t want to believe it.

I also got real good at pretending. I told myself that I’d save that woman, but I spent a week pretending that she never existed. I pretended that I couldn’t hear her screaming when Cillian touched her, and I pretended not to hear Keenan when he told me, “Don’t listen to it. Don’t puke.”

Most of all, I pretended that it didn’t bother me anymore. That granted me a lot of points on Cillian’s side. He put his fists to my face a lot less. That didn’t mean that he didn’t pound me when he got the chance, though.

I kind of understood why Cillian got angry with me a lot. I think it was mostly because I didn’t act my age. I was twenty-four then, but I still acted as if I was about thirteen. I still cried when he hit me, and I still shied away from a fight even though I wanted to believe I was tough. I kind of looked thirteen as well; my brown hair never stayed neat and my blue eyes were always childish, as Keenan put it.

I didn’t think that they were always childish, though. When people come to a conclusion about something, they think that it’s always like that. Even if my eyes got all serious, which I’m sure they do sometimes, no one would notice it. They’re too stubborn to admit that they’re wrong.

Keenan was doing just that on a Friday—or Saturday—afternoon. I got out of helping Cillian out in the field because he was still pissed off at me for the night before. I was stupid and asked if he would turn himself in. My jaw still hurt like hell from the punch he gave me.

Anyway, Keenan watched me intently, his eyes filled with confusion. He only gave that look when something was odd or off to him and my serious eyes was giving him that feeling. I ignored him, though, because I had greater things to worry about.

“Are you still trying to formulate a plan?”

I never did stop. I had many plans in my head, but all would either end up with me potentially dead, beaten, or wanted. Keenan swore that he wouldn’t help me. It’s not part of my job, he had told me, but he was always in my room when I tried to think. I had asked him to get out more than a few times, but of course, he merely ignored me. It wasn’t as if I hated his presence, anyway.

When I nodded, Keenan sighed and started to throw an old hacky sack against my wall, playing catch with himself. “I don’t understand why you’re even wasting your time. That woman ruined your family, didn’t she? Or maybe it’s because you’re an amnesiac.”

“That’s not true,” I rushed to say. “I remember some things now. Though they’re not so clear...”

I was telling the truth. Kind of. I didn’t remember that woman, but dreams granted me small scenes with a warm hearted woman who I assumed was my mother, and man who always kept a cigarette between his thin lips who I assumed was my father. The dreams were always quiet, short lived, and never made much sense. I shoved them back as much as I could most of the time. They scared me, if I have to be honest with you.

I hadn’t noticed that Keenan was staring at me until then. His eyes seemed drawn. He looked away from me after several minutes, throwing the sack slower that time. “Oh.”

I’m still not sure what he meant by that.

“Maybe I should talk to her first,” I finally said after the silence choked me. “I mean, I need to get her to trust me first, right? We’ll never get out alive if she doesn’t trust me.”

Keenan laughed at my idea, his expression of amusement trickling through the air like a melody on a harp. It had me in a trance for only a second, his voice knocking me out of it.

“You’re going to go down there?” he asked, laughing between words. “Cillian will have your head.”

“I’ve got to talk to her somehow, and it isn’t as if she’ll get out of there anytime soon. Not without me.”

Keenan folded his arms over his chest, grinning like a madman. “You’re really going to do this? You won’t chicken out?”

I hesitated. Keenan caught it. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for my answer. “My life isn’t the only thing on the line here,” I said. “Hers is too. I can’t be a coward now.”

Keenan’s smile only grew wider, a pretty row of perfect white teeth glinting in the light. “I admire that,” he mused. “Thing is, most humans are all talk and no action. But I see it in your eyes; you’re going to end up doing the craziest things.”

To tell you the truth, it felt kind of good earning his favour. Don’t bother asking why, though, because I wouldn’t know how to explain it to you. And even if I did, I don’t think I would want to go into it.

“Why do you always do that?” I asked him. A confused look rested on his face at that moment as he unfolded his arms.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like a plaything. As if I don’t have feelings, or I don’t get hurt, or I don’t get excited for all the wrong reasons.” Honestly, I would’ve shot myself right in my head just for saying that. I’m serious.

Keenan didn’t smile when he said it, but his voice was still teasing. “Because that’s all you are. A plaything. I don’t need to acknowledge your feelings or consider your pain, as long as I get my fun. Life is a game, Jack. You’ve got to learn not to play so seriously.”

“You aren’t superior. You live in a dingy cabin, just like me. Even if I’m not sure why you’re here, I do know that you don’t have the right to speak anyhow.”

He finally cracked a smile, but it was that type of smile that was supposed to scare you, you know? Some people can’t pull it off. Keenan could. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Your ignorance and folly is amusing to me, that’s all.” He sighed. “I’ll help you out with one thing, though, since you obviously can’t do it yourself.”

I looked away from him. The words he had said still stung, but I wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon. So instead I said, “I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Then you don’t want the basement key?”

That got my attention. I looked up at him with this stupid look on my face, like a boy who had been promised candy. “You’d get it for me?”

Keenan shrugged, pulling out a dime from his pocket. “Heads, I’ll get it for you. Tails, your plan goes to shit.”

Heads, I live. Tails, I die.

Call it.

 ***

Keenan had the skeleton key for me by the next morning.

I feigned illness to get out of picking corn for the afternoon, and Keenan got out of subbing for me by saying he would nurse me back to health. “He’ll be on his feet soon enough,” Keenan told him easily. “Don’t worry about it.”

Cillian bought it, only because it came from Keenan. As usual, he went out into the fields by himself. A minute later, Keenan entered my room, holding the key like a trophy. I’m still not sure how he got it since Cillian locked it in his room, but I learned not to ask questions. I figured that it’s best not to hurt my head over it.

“I won’t help you anymore after this, though,” Keenan told me as I headed down the stairs. “I’m still regretting getting you that key.”

“But you did anyway,” I said, grunting as I pushed the bookcase out of the way. “Because I’m something more than just a plaything. I’m something spectacular.”

I expected him to have a smartass remark, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t even crack a smile.

Keenan helped me move the book case out of the way without making too much noise to startle Cillian. He slipped two pieces of toast in my hands, nodding towards the door. I didn’t bother saying anything about the food as I unlocked it, slipped the key into my pocket, but hesitated at the top of the stairs.

“Are you going to waste my efforts?” Keenan asked, flicking on the lights. “Get in there.”

He pushed me in and I lost my footing; I nearly broke my damn neck because of him. I walked down the wooden steps carefully. One wrong move could set her screaming for help. One wrong move and I’d be lucky if I came out with a limb still attached.

I reached the foot of the stairs. Even though the light was on, the black walls made everything dim. Eerie. The smell of rotten meat was still in the air, but now it was mixed with the stale scent of blood.

I walked into a wide open space, where I saw her. Jesus, I had never seen anyone look so close to dying. She was chained up by her waist against a steel pole, her half naked body broken and bruised by Cillian’s fists. Her black hair was in a tangled mess, her milk chocolate skin stained with her own blood. She had her head hung low, sitting so still that I thought she was already dead.

But then she moved; a slight twitch from her big toe. Her pretty heels were long gone, lost somewhere in the big basement. I gripped the two pieces of toast.

Did he even feed her?

I took a small step towards her. She became tense. Tears splashed onto the cold cement she sat on, her throat probably too hoarse to scream again. I stopped a few feet away from her, switching uncomfortably from one foot to another.

“H-hey. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not like him.”

She didn’t answer me. I watched as her body tensed up, her chest drawing in air just to hold it. Please don’t scream, I thought to myself. I would’ve died right there if she did.

But the woman didn’t do anything, just sat there holding her breath. So I went down on my knees and slid the toast near her as I could possibly get. I now realise that it was a supposed to be a trick when she held her breath, trying to get me scared enough to let her free, probably.

She was smarter than I thought.

“I wasn’t sure if he fed you or not, so I decided to bring you this.” I relaxed a little when she took my offer, devouring it in seconds.

“He feeds me. But nothing like this.” Her voice was so quiet, so frail that I could’ve imagined it. I remember that I didn’t like hearing it much because of that.

I sighed and sat on the ground, watching as she ate. She didn’t even bother crying for help or screaming for me to let her free. She didn’t pull against the restraints that held her or deny the food I gave.

She lost her fight.

“I’ll get you out of here,” I told her. “I’ll get the both of us out of here. I just came here because I need you to trust me first. I mean, I haven’t gotten a plan yet, but I will. I just need your support and I’ll—”

Her head whipped up suddenly, causing me to nearly choke on my own spit. I stayed perfectly still as she watched me ever so carefully, like a snake to a human.

“Are you really Jack?” she asked. “The Jack I knew two years ago should be at the bottom of the ocean by now. Or maybe they hadn’t done anything like that. Maybe you got out.”

She ended up talking more to herself than to me. I didn’t have the slightest clue of what she was talking about, but I didn’t have the guts to ask. So instead, I pulled my eyebrows together and said, “You’re acting like you know me. But by the way you speak to Cillian, it seems as if you’ve just met him.”

She wiped her lips with the napkin as if her looks still mattered. “I knew the both of you before, yes, and I know the reason I’m here. I didn’t accept it at first; I wanted to pretend like I did nothing wrong. But I get it. Bad things don’t go unnoticed.”

She was a lot stronger than I thought she was.

“I know that we’ll both get out of here since you’re the one he spoke of the most. He was so devastated when you left; didn’t even drink a single drop of water for days. He praised you a lot, so you must’ve been a good kid. Good kids keep their word.”

“He?” I asked. “Who’s he?”

“Your father. He—”

She was cut off by a small tinkling noise that came from the stairs. Something rolled towards us and dropped right beside me. It was a dime; it stopped right on tails.

“You’ve got five minutes. He’s coming back.”

Keenan didn’t have to repeat himself twice. I grabbed the napkin, dusting away any trace of toast left around her or on her. “We’ll speak again,” I said before rushing towards the stairs.

“Good kids keep their word, Jack.” The woman’s voice was still quiet, but I heard her anyway. God, I wish I hadn’t.

Good kids keep their word.

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