The Worst Choice

When I woke up, my head was throbbing. It felt like somebody was repeatedly smashing a hammer against my forehead with an unimaginable amount of force. I lifted my head, whimpering as the movement only made my skull hurt worse. I tried moving my hands but they were taped behind my back, my feet taped to the legs of the chair I was sitting on as well. As slowly as possible, I turned my head left and right carefully, trying to keep from hurting myself worse and still figuring out where I am. The dimly-lit room had matching cement walls and flooring with a wooden door a couple yards to left. My eyes widened when I found a long plastic table not far from the door. Knives, box cutters and matches were sprawled out on the surface, a hand gun and hammer sitting at the other end of it. I tried to make a sound – anything at all – but nothing came from my mouth. I started moving my hands and feet frantically, hoping that a miracle would strike and I’d get loose somehow. But the tape was so tight it was practically cutting off my circulation so I wasn’t putting too much hope into getting myself free.

“Stop moving so much, he’ll know you’re awake.”

My head snapped to the direction of the familiar voice and the pain in my head was ignored when I saw him sitting to my right, his chair lined up perfectly with the door. How had I not noticed him before? “Nash,” I croaked out. “What is this?”

He didn’t look at me at first, instead staring at the door ahead of him. “You know, the few times I’ve been there when you were having one of your nightmares, it was bad,” he began, his voice quiet. “You’d make these whimpering noises that sounded like you were seconds away from death, you’d twist and turn like you were trying to break free from something. It worried me.” He chuckled but it wasn’t a happy one. It sounded dry and… sad. “But those are nothing compared the sounds you’ve made since you’ve been here. They never sounded so hopeless.” Finally, he looked at me with his jaw clenched shut and his red-rimmed eyes looking straight into mine. “I’m so sorry, Ashlyn,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“What is this?” I repeated my question, his last explanation only scaring me further.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, his voice angry but not as strong as it usually is. “Why would come to my house?”

My jaw dropped. “You told me to!” I responded. “You said it was important.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, his lips parted. It looked like he didn’t believe me. “Why would I tell you to come here?” he asked. “I’ve told you plenty of times to stay far away from here.”

“That’s not what the text I got from you said,” I replied matter-of-factly. He continued to look at me like I wasn’t speaking English, so I continued. “Someone texted me from Levi’s phone, claiming to be you, and that you needed me to come to your house. It specifically said not Levi’s house, too.”

Realization fell over his face. “Levi couldn’t find his phone before I left to come here. I thought he had just misplaced it because he had it this morning,” he murmured, sounding more like he was only thinking out loud. “He came into Levi’s house and stole his phone.”

“Why did you come here?” I asked him.

“He got Levi’s home number and called me, saying that he had you and the only way he was letting you go was if I showed up,” he explained. “I got here and, even when he tied me up and told me everything he was gonna do to me, I couldn’t feel anything but relief that you weren’t here.” He snorted. “You can imagine my anger and surprise when I woke up and found you there, passed out.”

“What is he gonna do to us?” I asked in small voice.

His gaze lingered on me, eyes full of sadness and fear. “I don’t know,” he admitted and as much as that didn’t comfort me at all, I was thankful for his honesty. “He wants to hurt me in every way he can and he knows what’ll…” he trailed off, his eyes leaving me and focusing on the door once again. He cleared his throat. “You’re gonna be okay,” he told me, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than me. “But I need you to listen to me. Whatever happens – whatever he does to me – please don’t scream or cry. Most importantly, do not beg. For anything. It’ll only encourage him.”

I felt my eyes burn with tears despite what Nash told me to do. “What am I supposed to do then?” I asked. What did he expect me to do, just sit there? Cheer his dad on, maybe?

“Nothing,” he answered as if it were that simple. “Don’t do anything. Look away if you have to. He isn’t going to do anything to you, Ashlyn. You’re here only because he wants me to stay and not try to fight back. I wouldn’t leave here without you and he knows that,” he finished his explanation in a monotone, which only baffled me. How could he be so calm about this?

“I won’t be able to just sit here quietly if he starts beating you or uses that gun over there and it’s not fair for you to tell me to,” I informed him. “We can yell for help or something. It’s two against one; we can find a way out of here.”

“I’m not risking you getting hurt so I’m not going anywhere. And we can scream until there’s nothing left but it’s no use. You can’t hear anything from down here,” he replied. “When I was a kid, my dad didn’t like me playing loud because it interrupted whatever he was watching on TV. My mom thought it’d be fine to make this my playroom but dad still thought I was too loud, so he soundproofed it completely.” There was a creaking in the ceiling and I watched Nash’s eyes widen as his head snapped to me. “Just please stay quiet,” he whispered in a rushed voice. As the footsteps got closer to the door, my heartbeat got louder and Nash’s features grew more worried. “Pretend to sleep,” was all he was able to get out before the basement door opened.

I obeyed, dropping my chin onto my chest and closing my eyes. I tried to focus on steadying my breathing rather than the footsteps coming down the stairs but the second I heard the bottom door open, telling me that he was now in the same room as us, my efforts went to waste and my heart felt like it dropped to my stomach and I could swear his dad heard my heartbeat. “Good, you’re awake,” I heard him say and I froze, thinking he was talking to me.

“Fuck you,” Nash spit out at him.

“Shut the hell up, boy,” he growled at his son. “What’s this, playing dead?” This time I knew he was talking to me. He had softened his voice a little and I realized I’d rather hear his harsh voice. I decided to keep my eyes closed. “Won’t have to be playing for much longer,” he muttered and I swear I heard a smile in his voice.

“If you fucking touch her I swear to God,” Nash warned angrily. I heard his chair scrape against the floor.

Nash’s dad laughed. “What’re you gonna do?” he asked. When Nash didn’t reply, he continued. “Alright, you wanna play big man and be her knight and shining armor? Save her.” With that, he backhanded me, my eyes flying open as I stared up at the man who had both mine and Nash’s lives in his hands. “Good morning, darling,” he greeted me in a sugary-sweet voice. He turned his back, walking away from me slowly. I looked at Nash and he was breathing heavily, his wide eyes following his dad. I turned my head to look at his dad also and found him standing by the chair, a genuine-looking smile on his face. “Now that we’re all awake, let’s get started, shall we?”