Cages

Somewhere between Lucas cutting our ropes and being dragged away, I passed out again from a concussion most likely or a contusion. When I woke up, I was tossed over a boney shoulder, trying not to toss up cookies over my captors back. Before I could psych myself up to doing just that to the fucker, I was out again. Surprised I haven't gone comatose at this point.

When I woke up and thankfully stayed up, I was naked on some cement floors and freezing so badly my nipples were in pain. Whimpering like a kicked dog I tried to get up on shaky arms, still blacked out eyes frantically looking around in hopes of seeing the light, color, anything! The hushed sobs in a corner told me I wasn't alone and I tensed up.

"Peach?"

I almost, almost laugh hysterically when they spoke, nerves shot to hell and back. My arms collapse under my own weight, but thankfully I wasn't far from the ground. Feeling for the bloody goose egg at the back of my head I was surprised to feel it clean with a few sloppy stitches closing the aching wound.

The surrounding hair was matted but clean of debris and from the aching of my scalp whoever did this probably tried brushing my hair but gave up halfway. God speed to them. An itch crawled over my neck, and I felt it up to find a freaking collar. For a dog. I feel the tag in the front and wonder hysterically if his name and number were printed on it along with a, "please return me home."

"Weeell now that you ladies are all up, I got a little game for you."

Lucas. His voice pitched lower and higher with manic glee. A tear squeezed out the corner of my eye as I wondered if the family was always like this. Are they the reason those people went missing? Were they always this fucking sick and we just never bothered to look deeper? Was I partially to blame for seeing his obvious psychotic tendencies as quirks and not tried to get him help?

"Don't think too hard baby, you'll get frowny lines!"

His childish voice giggles before becoming deeper. Serious.

"The name of the game, ladies, is that at least one of you have to die in there or that little gate over yonder doesn't open. There's a pot over there for any pooootty breaks,"

I hear a scraping sound before a clang.

"...and you'll be watered every now and then. If I remember that is. You see, I want you to break, just not that fast. What's the fun in that?"

I sneer and sit up a bit to hear him better.

"The lights won't turn off, not a problem to you huh, sweetheart?"

He snickers and continues.

"And you won't get clothes. No matter how pretty you beg or how much of a show you dykes in the corner give me."

"Mother fucker-"

A static sound came before the obscenely tight collar around my neck gave a controlled shock. At least I think it was controlled. This must be what getting tazed feels like, and after the minutes that could have very well been seconds, I was on the ground again, drooling a bit and in a puddle of piss that smelled like fear. He tsked over the speaker.

"Now, now Peach. Don't go cursing your fucking stupidity on me. I'm actually rooting for you to live through this."

I try to react to my given name being used by this freak, "bastard" on the tip of my tongue. But I know him. He won't let anything slip even after such a painful example. It's why his rat experiment died in science class. He grunted, and I heard another grinding sound.

"Go clean yourself up, Peach. Don't need you girls getting sick from ammonia now do I."

Blearily I remember his borderline obsession with cleanliness and try to crawl in the direction of the sound before my twitching muscles gave out. Already the piss is cold, and I wrinkle my nose as I have no choice but to lie in my own fucking filth. I'll get him back for that I swear to gawd. Soft hands help me sit up, a gentle Indian accent crooning in my ear as Asha rocked me. I didn't really care about the words, just the familiar sounds washing over me in this scary situation.

To be honest, I was never one for scary things and probably would have pissed myself just fine already if I could fully process this situation without the added help. I didn't even really notice the breast on my cheek as she held me close while Cathy cleaned up the mess. I wanted to sleep then and there, but with this head injury, I settled for the next best thing. I fucking cried.

I cried so hard and long that snot leaked from my nose and my headache grew 10x worse. I screamed at Lucas, at his family, at the betrayal I felt sinking into my bones. Sweat broke out of my face and under my pits, not even bothering to cover my honestly freezing boobs anymore as I raged at him. His only response, after what must have been hours of verbal abuse to him and the horse he rode in on, was a chuckle and chilling words.

"Baby, we're gonna have some fun."

It's only been hours. Hours of listening to Cathy pace and wordlessly scream after my honestly huge freakout. Hours of listening to Asha's calming breaths turn into hyperventilation as we held each other.

"Cathy stop. Please."

"Why?! The bastard has to break at some point! If we get him to talk again, maybe we can try to establish a relationship. Get on his good side."

I blink and try squinting in what I think is her general direction before giving up with a sigh. Biting my response to that (honestly, why does she think he doesn't have cameras on us right now? He always has cameras on every inch of this property!) I try to sound empathetic and soft. Kind of hard when I seemed to have cried out all my emotional energy for the next month.

"He doesn't give up Cathy. Then he wouldn't be Lucas."

They seemed to finally catch onto something bigger going on, and I relax as the annoying shuffle of feet against cement ceased.

"How do you know so much?"

Suspicion. I flinch back from Asha and try to rationalize it. She doesn't know me that well, and we're in a high-stress situation. If I wasn't so doped up right now, I might be panicking a little more too.

"I used to live here remember? I went to school with the Bakers, and I knew the parents from church."

"What about that creepy grandma?"

My veins froze, and my jaw dropped.

"Grandma Baker died a few months before I left. I don't know who you guys saw up there, but that wasn't her."

Blood drains from my face quicker than I thought possible. Who else is up there? Who was that little girl? I won't be getting answers from them, so I keep my mouth shut and hopefully keep my growing stress down. Doesn't help that I can't read their body queues. I don't know if I'm unloading too much or too little information on them. I do not need these two more freaked out. It'll become a chain reaction before exhausting us completely and our meager water supply. I can already feel dehydration nip at my heels and turn my attention back to the present.

"I used to be friends with Luc. He was my only friend really. The guy that made my Frankenstein computer."

I can't help but smile fondly at the memory not tainted by fear of more unknowns. I left it in the trunk of the car along with all my clothes and my tablet. Not to mention the phone Lucas has probably already taken apart 5 different ways. No. I force myself to think about him as he is now. He's probably glued to the monitors watching with unblinking eyes and a sweaty face. The image sticks and I forced myself out of soft memories.

"He-"

Caged.

I choke back a sob, done crying for this century.

"I don't know what's wrong with them. They were never like this before. Not even Lucas. Sure he was a sadistic fuck, but he never kidnaped people!"

I don't know what I'm vehemently defending. The man himself or the memories I still hold so dearly to. Are they one in the same and I never saw it? Or are they completely different? Or perhaps, he shares some qualities and something stronger here is at work. Tainting them. Twisting them. Lord, I hope so. I might feel less guilty and sick if I have to kill one. Purification. Church bells seemed to ring in my ears, and I almost scowled at one of the few good Christian memories that played out in my mind. The tiny cross branded on my hip still burns, hollow screams of little 14-year old me begging Uncle Benjamin to stop. He'd fucking love this, his little angel finally purifying the world, that sick fuck.