Young Writers Society

The darkness is the worst. Not the warm, humid air that makes it hard to breathe, or the lack of food, water, and washroom. The total and complete blackness, is what slowly broke down Ash’s hope, spirit and dignity, hour after hour. All he can feel is Blair’s hand, tightly clamped in his, both shaking and sweaty. They now were now reliant on each other to survive, not only physically, but mentally as well. How did they get here, in this rotting, scorching basement, with enough hate in their hearts to murder?

“So,-” Ash started, his face blushing, as it always did when he tried to talk to Blair. Her long dark hair flowed like a waterfall down her back, and the bright, fiercely blue eyes always met his when they spoke. It was not just her beauty that made him blush. It was her entire persona, her confidence with herself, her pride in her intelligence, and certainness in what she knew. And yet, she was not arrogant, or self-absorbed. She amazed Ash completely. She smiled slightly, knowing that he was flushed, but nodded encouragingly.

“Um, how was your day?” He finishes, cursing himself at his own clumsiness. .

“It was, um, great. Thank you for asking.” She gives him a sly smile, and all he can see are her soft pink lips, pulling tight into a grin.

“And you? How was yours? Failing anything new?” Now she is teasing him, as she bumps her shoulder into his. They both stumble on the cracked sidewalk. Blair knows how hard he works for the average grades that he received, opposite to her perfect ones.

“How could I fail, when I have such a good tutor?” He is only half-joking, and looks at her closely. It was very true, without her, Ash would have been doing a lot worse that he was now. She meant so much to him, his best friend. But he wanted more.

It was the perfect walk home, after such a long day of school. Ash could not wait to get to the park, Blair's favorite place in the town. She was astonished by the connection between everything. He just loved anything that make her happy.

Nearly giddy with his excitement speak with her, he moved his long legs fast, with Blair in tow. They giggled with one another, laughing about silly things, and enjoying each others company. They finally arrived at the park, beautiful and colorful.

“So-” He started, as he stopped and grabbed her hand, and stared into her astonished eyes.

“I have something to ask you…” Blair’s eyes got wide with a mixture and excitement, anticipation, and nervousness.

“Well, you have been my best friend, for so, so, long and-” Heart pounding, he tried to get out the question that he had been wanting to ask, but he was interrupted by a strange feeling on the back of his neck, and a terrified look on Blair’s face.

Curiously he turned around, then felt his heart skip. Standing in front of him was a very thin man. His cheeks were hollow, but not nearly as empty as his eyes. The dark brown orbs were staring strictly down at him, with pure hatred. Ash tightened his grip on Blair's shaking hand. And nearly screamed when he saw what had been the source of coolness on his neck. It was a gun.

The man finally spoke, his voice rough and hoarse, “Follow me.” Fear was pulsing through Ash, and he glanced around, looking for anything or anyone who could help. There had been no one, nothing. Only the silent trees heard their cries for help. The man seemed almost annoyed at they feeble calls, but kept to gun on them at all times.

The man guided them back and forth through the park, off course and deeper than they had ever been. Ash felt his heart drop with every step they took, further and further away from safety. The walk took around half an hour, but felt like so many more to Ash, who could only watch as the gun was constantly pointed at him.

“Do you hear that?” Blair whispered to him, her voicing cracking. Ash stained his ears, but heard nothing. He suddenly felt a surge of anger at this skinny man, hiding behind the power of a gun, scaring the beautiful girl that he loved. He turned angrily, to face him.

Ash opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what he is going to say, but felt the need to yell, scream, protect Blair. Before he could say a word, his head was whipped to the side. He fell to the ground, for a moment not feeling the blinding pain that came a second later. Blair let out a strangled gasp, as Ash groaned. He slowly stood up, dizzily, and Blair held him up. He leaned on her, barely able to stand on his own. The gun, that had been used to smack Ash’s face to the ground, was no longer pointed at him, but at Blair.

“Not another word.” The man speaks, then pointed to the open door of the car. Ash stumbled, his hand on his injured cheek, but stopped when he saw the inside of the van. Cages. He stopped breathing.

“No, no, no, no. This is not happening to me. This is not happening.” Ash repeated to himself, as he was shoved through the doors.

Ash pulls himself out of his thoughts, to focus on where he was now. After a very long, anxiety-ridden ride, full of harsh turns that threw the two captives from side to side, they finally stopped. The transfer from the van to the dark, moist basement was so swift, it did not occur to Ash until minutes later that it would have been the perfect chance to escape.

Sitting now, shaking and shivering, he realized how many times he could have run away. How many times he could have been brave, and saved himself and his friend. He played every possible scenario of his heroic escape through his mind, cursing himself at being too scared thought of any of them in the moment. They had been in this basement for hours, but without a clock, or phone, it was impossible to tell how long they had been gone.

“Ash!” Blair’s voice pulls away from his anger momentarily.

“I think he is coming back!” Her voice is shaking, and her grip on his hand tightens. Ash listens, and hears the quiet steps.

“We need to be prepared for when he comes down. We need a plan to-” A small shiver of light is cast into the basement, from the now slightly opened door. No one dared to move as the crescent of light grew larger, until the door is completely open, and they have to look away from the brightness. Their eyes had grown used the the pitch darkness.

Ash glanced a Blairs illuminated face, and paused. Her body was tense, and hard. Her eyes were narrowed in hate and disgust. There was no fear written on her pale face, only rage and contempt. Their eyes met, and both flinched slightly at the animosity in each other's eyes. A slight shake of his head is all he needs to pass on for her to comprehend his willingness to fight.

Neither of them knew how they could possibly overcome this man, with a gun, but the fact that they had each other made them both feel stronger. This moment, of fear and total uncertainty, reminded Ash of why he loved Blair so much. In this completely hopeless situation, she gave him the strength to fight. The man, moving painfully slow, takes one step at a time down the creaking stairs. In the back of his mind, Ash is relieved to see that he does not carry a gun with him but a bottled water. But he focuses on the man himself, noticing details that he did not before.

The man is wearing loose fitting jeans, with no belt, and a large ratty sweatshirt, oddly without the strings. His gaunt face is unshaven and his dark hair, thin and long. His lips are moving fast, muttering words that Ash can not quite hear. His brown eyes are wandering through the now lit basement, going right over the two shaking children, as though they are not even there. Though he looks the same as he did when he took them, his entire personality was different. Where his shoulders were stiff and straight, are sagging. His face hardened, now terrified and panicked. Even his lips trembled. The man’s complete change in demeanor is something that scared Ash.

Ash feel curiosity spring from his anger, and he releases Blair’s hand. He stands up slowly, as if to not startle the animal before him. The pieces are starting to fall together. Ash doesn’t think that this man even knows that they were here.

“...Finally got out… can’t go back… hostages…maybe… or no…can’t go back” Every word Ash catches he man mutter scares him more and more.

Then it all clicks. This man is crazy. He had escaped from somewhere, somewhere where he had been locked away, kept away from society for their safety and his own.

“He’s mental.” He whispers to Blair, seeing the realization click in her mind. She shakily stands up with him, her tight fitting jeans dirty, and torn. It hits Ash, just how much this has taken out of Blair. Her eyes had lost a bit of their light. That hurt him deeper that any smack to the face could achieve, even with a gun.

With a yell, Ash shoves Blair back, and jumps at the man. He sees, out of the corner of his eye, Blair hit hard against the cement wall near the door, looking hurt. Both emotionally and physically, in that little glance that he saw, he knew she was so confused. He was going to have to worry about that later, because he collided hard with the thin man, and they both went crashing into the grey floor.

“Run, Blair!” Ash yells. He hears her run, but he is not relieved yet. The man, in a state of panic and madness, is shaking frantically. His hands claw out, not as much trying to escape Ash’s grip, be seemingly to express his consternation.

As they roll and wrestle, Ash is mostly in control, but the man’s frantic demeanor causes him to act sporadically, which makes him much harder to control. Then a loud clank startles the both of them. They freeze, looking around to see the source of the noise. The man sees it first. His eyes go wide, and he looks at the object like he has never seen it before, though it had just fallen out of his pocket. The gun. Ash lunges toward it, grasping it with two hands. The gun feel cold in his hands, and the only thoughts in his mind is the fact that he has no idea what to do with it. What is he going to do, with this cold weapon in his hands? Will he shoot it? Does he even know how? He has seen all of the movies, all of the television shows. But this is his first time even seeing a gun, one that he assumes is loaded. A new horrifying thought flashes through his mind. Is the gun even loaded? It looks like a handgun, one straight out of his favorite cop show.

The man is lying on the floor, where Ash had left him. He suddenly jumps. He slowly stands up, oblivious to the gun that is now pointed at him. His back is straight and his shoulders back, in a very military stance. His face is smothered with confidence, and his lips are pulled into a demeaning sneer. This is the man that had taken Ash. This is the man he was afraid of.

“What do you think you are doing with that?” His voice is harsh and condescending. Ash feels immediately like a child, with his hand caught in a cookie jar. The man's voice is so powerful, so unlike the weak mutters that had been heard just a moment ago. His fast changes in mood, nearly makes Ash dizzy. How can someone live two different lives, two different people, combined into one? It terrifies him.

The man takes another step closer.

“Who do you think you are, to point a gun at me?” Ash’s hands are sweaty, and shaking.

“No respect for those who matter!” The man's croaking voice is nearly at a yell.

“I matter! I am important!” It is a cross between a screech and a wail.

“You are nothing. Nothing!” With every word, he takes a step closer to Ash. They are so close, with the gun pointing straight at the man’s chest. He had walked right to it.

“You did this to me. How dare you think you can disrespect me. I am better-” He is a crumbled heap on the floor. Unmoving. Not speaking anymore.

Ash doesn’t feel a thing. He is confused. What happened? The smell of gunfire is strong in the air. His shoulders feel stiff and sore. A pool of blood is spilling from the man.

But I guess he is not a man anymore. Ash thinks. The blood is making shapes on the floor, so Ash kneels down to it. It almost feels warm. The man looks pale. But he is not a man anymore. Ash took away his title of “the man”. He is now an empty vessel, lifeless.

But I took that from him. Ash feels dead.

I took everything away from him. He is gone, floating away. This is trash, what he left behind. His mind is moving fast, and he can hear nothing, see nothing. All he can think is that this thing in front of him was empty. He snached away what life it had once held, shot it out with the gun he did not want to use, wanted to use. Didn’t want to fire, wanted to fire. He didn’t want to kill the man. He wanted to kill the man.

He wonders if the life he took from the man, is inside him now, stirring up his mind and his rationality. If it is the man causing the pain in his chest and this static in his head. Ah feels lifeless too. He sympathises with the man. He feels like his life was taken too. He can’t feel. Can’t cry, laugh, die. Just this pain. Guilt, the man whispers from deep inside his head. Is it the man making those sounds?

He faintly hears sirens, shouting, crying. He realizes that he should put the gun down now. It seems to be morphed into his skin. Someone pries it away from him. Something cold clamps down on his wrists. And yet he feels nothing. Sees nothing. He thinks he hears Blair’s voice, calling out to him.

Blair. He jumps suddenly, as if shocked. Opens his eyes. She is sitting next time him, joling back and forth. They are moving, he realized. They are in an ambulance. Is he hurt? Can they tell that the man is inside of him, can they tell that his is tearing Ash apart? But, Blair.

She looks small. Smaller than he had ever seen her. He can see guilt written clearly in her eyes. Why is she guilty?

“I am so sorry, Ash.” She lets out rushed, cracked.

“I should not have left, I should have stayed, I could have helped. Then you wouldn’t have had to shoot him. It is all my fault. I can’t-” She can barely speak, she is sobbing so hard, but she still talks as though her life depends on her getting the words out.

Ash can’t speak, he has forgotten how. He can’t breathe yet either. The man will not let him. So Ash shakes his head gently, conveying as much as he can that nothing was her doing. He wants to tell her he loves her. That he wants her. But the man tells him that he doesn’t deserve her. So he stays quiet, and falls into his own mind, filled with blood and death.

Ash doesn’t open his eyes for a long time. When he finally does, his first word is “Blair”.