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“Where’sthecavalry?”Neil smirks like he just delivered the winning punchline at a standup comedy evening.
I hold a finger to my lips in the universal sign for ‘shut the fuck up’ and switch off the spy cam—at least that’s what I make it look like I’m doing. “There, that’s better. Now it’s just the two of us.” For good measure, I cross my arms and flex my biceps some.
Although Neil has had the upper hand and held all the cards in his hands, those days are over. And if it ever comes down to it, I know I can take him out without too much effort. It might sound cocky, but really, he’s just that pathetic. There was a reason he needed help to attack Mark and to hold me down, and now he’s a lot worse for wear.
In the time I’ve known Neil, he’s taken good care of himself. However, the weeks of being chained to a wall in a dark and dank place are taking their toll, and so has the time with a lack of nutrition and only the bare minimum of water. His hair is matted and lifeless as it clings to his skull, his skin looks rubbery, and he has this wild and tortured look in his eyes. A few scabs are visible despite his clothes, but I know more are hiding beneath the slashed fabric. Baby’s handiwork. All in all, he’s sickly and pathetic looking.
Neil’s eyes are trained on me in a way that tells me he’s afraid to look away, and that amuses me. He attempts to clear his throat, but his voice cracks from dryness every time he opens his mouth. I walk over to him, take his empty water bottle, and fill it up before gently pouring some water into his mouth. It fucking makes me feel as bad as he stinks to be nice, but I’m here for answers. Once he’s had his fill, he turns his head away from me, and I place the bottle on the floor.
“What do you want?” he asks, sounding suspicious.
I swallow back the smirk that’s threatening to spread across my face. “I want to talk, that’s all. Besides, I figured you might want to clean yourself and have some food.”
Before I went down here, Baby suggested I play the good-cop role. While she wasn’t sure it would help, we agreed it couldn’t hurt. If anything, it might make things more interesting once CJ and Baby start their games for real.
“I apologize, but there’s only cold water down here.” I deliberately keep my voice to an almost whisper, wanting him to think that the others don’t know what I’m doing. “Do you want to hose yourself down?” I ask.
Neil sends spit flying toward me, and I take a step back from him. “Do you think I’m stupid, boy? Of all of them, you wouldn’t be here to help me.”
Chewing on one of the rolls I brought for him, I agree. “You’re right, I shouldn’t help you—and it’s sure as hell not because you deserve it. You tried to kill one of my best friends, and you blackmailed all of us to get your hands on our girlfriend… I can understand why it’s hard to believe I don’t mean any harm.” I don’t add murdering Mark to my list. While it makes me feel shitty, I’m going to leave that to Baby.
“Why are you here?”
I take my time eating the last of the roll before I answer him. “Because I don’t believe in what they’re doing to you. Do I think you deserve anything good happening to you? No. Maybe this isn’t as much about you as it’s about me. I need to believe that I did what I could and didn’t just idly stand by while they’re… No, I’m not going to tell you. No one should have pictures like that in their head. Least of all you, you’d just keep watching the door, fearing when they’ll do it.” I theatrically shake my head.
Neil’s eyes widen, and it looks like he’s debating with himself. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it myself. Are those clothes for me?” He nods toward the clean clothes I placed on the washing machine. I ignore him and make a show of moving things out of the way before lifting a measuring cup, and I make it look like the key to his cuffs was in there. This was CJ’s idea, and it’s kind of genius to give Neil false hope.
“Yeah, I figured you’d like some clean clothes after. Be quiet though, they’re watching a movie upstairs.”
Our prisoner coughs before asking, “And they didn’t find it weird you walked by them with food and clean clothes?”
I chuckle as I say, “They didn’t see it. I stashed it in a cupboard near the basement door last night while they were all sleeping.” Then, in an irritated whisper, I add. “Now, are we doing this or not?”
Some of the hostility and distrust bleeds away from Neil as he agrees, and for the first time, I can understand the rush CJ gets from playing God. Seeing the once powerful Mr. Riley being reduced to this… To Neil, there’s something almost intoxicating about it.
Before I have time to do anything, the ‘Thong Song’ blares from the speakers making Neil howl, “Make it stop, please, Alec.” His eyes are bulging and twitching. His entire body spasms as if every note and word physically hurt him.
I quickly turn the music off before I unlock his left cuff so he can move to the side, then cut open the sleeve on his still cuffed hand, and I give him the hose and turn the water on. I purposefully turn my back on him after passing him the soap. It’s partly because I don’t want to see him naked, but mostly to see if he will try to do something. I almost wish he would. Well, not really, since I need answers.
Now that he’s washing himself, the aroma of citrus that’s palpable in the air is a pleasant reprieve for my nostrils. The stink down here is so bad I do not know how he can stomach it.
“I’m done,” he says, and I hand him two towels because I’m nice enough to bring more than one. That was Baby’s idea, and who am I to argue with that? It might not even be something he picks up on, but it can’t hurt on the off chance that he does.
Getting Neil dressed takes longer since I need to help him, and I refuse to free both his hands which makes it harder to get the sweater on him. But as soon as Neil is dressed in sweatpants, woolen socks, a sweater, and a hoodie on top, I move his sleeping bag out of the way. “Here,” I carry a stool so he can sit down while I spray lemon cleaner on the floor beneath it. I get down on all fours and properly give the floor a good scrub before placing a clean and new sleeping bag where the other one used to be. Then I throw open the tiny window down here, desperate for clean air. Neil waits patiently while I’m moving about, and it makes me want to smile that he’s so desperate for something as essential as food that he’s willing to behave.
I give him the buttered rolls and the glass of milk. It isn’t much, but his eyes light up like he just received the most decadent food prepared by a first-class chef, and judging by the sounds he makes, it must taste like that to him.
“Thank you, Alec.” Although his mouth is stuffed with food, I think that’s what he says.
Sitting down on the stairs, I look anywhere but at him while he’s eating. I don’t think I ever realized the restraint it takes to be nice to someone you despise, and I’m finding a newfound respect for CJ. I might even need to ask for pointers if I’m ever doing this again. Not if. I definitely will be down here again. There’s no way Neil will tell me what I want to know tonight, so I’m not even going to ask him.
No, I’m better off taking my time and continuing to do nice things for him, hoping that it’ll make him want to talk. I can’t stop thinking about how far I’m willing to go with this. Yes, I want answers—but to what end? My biological mom is dead. The last time I saw her was one week before I accidentally set fire to our home, and as far as I know, she never looked back. No one told me she came looking for me. Hell, I even had CJ look into my file to find out if she ever contacted social services about me. Surprise, surprise… She didn’t. Or, if she did, no one bothered to write it in my file.
So why am I so desperate for answers? I feel like that little lost boy all over again.
“I’m assuming you’re down here because you want to know about your mama?” Neil asks.
He’s done eating now, and from the strained look on his face, he’s not comfortable. Not that I can blame him since the hand that’s still cuffed is stretched.
