Dean found me in my parents’ storage unit. I was sitting on the old couch when the locked door opened. Jumping up in shock is the reaction when Dean’s standing in the doorway with his always-handy pocket knife.
“Well hey there.” He said too calmly for the situation we were in. I didn’t answer; unable to scream and incapable of response. And ever so peacefully, Dean walked inside the storage unit closing (and locking) the door behind him. So serene, so cool like he wasn’t about to kill me.
“I’m gonna kill you.” he said with a snarl. Finally, a reasonable tone and a confirmation I was hoping not for. “You see,” he began as if telling a story, “I talked to Seth yesterday.”
My eyes hardened as he took a step forward; I took one back. Damnit Seth, why couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut?
“He was curious about some things. He wanted to know why I threatened to kill you and I said, ‘let’s a play a little game.’”
He smirked and I cringed at those last words, backing further away until I was up against a wall of boxes. He pretended not to notice.
“But he didn’t want to play a game with me. Not like you always did. It’s a shame but oh well. I told him that I enjoyed playing fun games with you and his sister. He was PO’ed. But then I got bored so I kicked him out before he could get to his sister upstairs. Wanna know what she was doing?”
I shook my head quickly, my expression livid and my mind filled with disgust.
“Well, since you’re so eager … and this is stalling your death … she said she didn’t want to play anymore games. Stupid thing to say, you know of course. So, I hide her panties upstairs.” He chuckled to himself and I flinched. “She was trying to find them but really, they were stuffed in her purse the whole time. Ah, good times.”
“You’re disgusting.” I said. YES! Finally some words. I’m patting myself on the back now. I feel so great, what’s the word? Slaphappy. Sarcastic. Anything to get my mind off my final minutes of life.
“Now onto other things. You broke your only promise to me. One thing. It was so simple and so small but it leaves a big mess. Anyway, I want to make this moment … last. I want to enjoy it.” His eyes were sadistic just like his twisted mind. “Why don’t you beg?”
“Excuse me?” I asked with raised eyebrows and he glanced back at me like I was stupid.
“Beg. For your life. There are a couple steps to this kind of death. Slow and long. So beg, maybe show some skin. I don’t know. Whatever you think will help you live longer.”
I glared at him, unmoving, and he walked to stand right in front of me, the knife in his hand.
“I said beg.” He snarled, shoving my shoulder roughly. I took it. Anything to prolong these last moments of dignity. Dean pressed the knife against my throat and I swallowed loudly. “You know, Carlie. Sometimes you just really push your luck.”
But those were the last words he got out before I kneed him where it really hurts. The knife clattered to the floor and he fell over, grunting. Escape time. Take advantage.