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Then I look solemn and announce.
“Honey, I’ve got more balls than any guy you know.”
He bursts out laughing at my sudden declaration. But why did I say that? Why am I so anxious to prove to him that I’m a match for his psychopathic cult? Why does my fucking curiosity always silence my reason?
“Only your mentor will judge,” he announces.
I almost choke. What’s this new shit?! “My ‘what?’ Wait, are you serious? You’re going to graft a mentor onto me who will have to tell me what to do to prove that I have balls? No kidding.”
Tucker stares directly at my inner thighs. “Yeah, I’m not sure you actually have any.”
My mouth hangs open in surprise as he finally steps out of my apartment. His broad shoulders cross the small hallway and move out of my sight.
“Wait!” I exclaim loudly.
He stops but doesn’t turn around.
“Who is he, my mentor?”
He tilts his head back slightly but I can’t see his eyes.
“Who do you think is it, redhead?”
15. Save Her
Iris
Blood. Blood everywhere. I bend down and, with my trembling hand, pick up the broken frame from the floor. A drop of blood has splashed onto the picture of my parents, my little sister, and me smiling at the camera.
“I know you’re hiding,” a male voice rumbles a few feet away.
I stick against the wall of the hallway. My heart misses a beat. The stranger passes by me. He doesn’t see me, the darkness hiding my silhouette. I don’t glance into our living room, I know what scene I’ll find there. Before I pushed open the front door, I heard from outside the house the screams. My parents were screaming. Then I heard gunshots. But I didn’t hear Agnes, she must be hidden. And I must find her before that man does.
I tiptoe through the narrow hallway to the stairs. I don’t hear any noise.
I try to ignore the panic that is growing in me. A part of me urges myself to go to the living room. But another part of me orders myself to save my little sister before it’s too late.
The police are coming. I must get Agnes out of danger. I reach the last step of the wooden staircase. It creaks gently.
Shit, no!
I stand still, feeling sick. My limbs tremble. Please.
I hear footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. A voice slams into my back.
“I love this game,” exclaims the man.
I turn towards him. He’s a stranger. His face is covered in blood. His orange jumpsuit is torn in some places. A serial number is written on his pocket.
My eyes fall to his. They freeze my blood. He seems crazy, lost in a world that is not ours. A proud smile curls his lips as I turn and start running.
“It’s no use,” he laughs behind me.
“Agnes!” I shout.
No answer comes. I hear the man’s footsteps on the stairs as I run towards my sister’s room. But my intuition tells me not to stop at that door, but to go to my own.
I remember those stupid hide-and-seek games Agnes used to force me to play. Her favorite hiding place comes to mind.
