Warning: This chapter is one of the most graphic, in my opinion. But this and the one after are what I wrote first, so I suppose it's always going to shock me a little bit. Slight bloodiness involving Craig's stitches. But I have not intended to make you throw up. It's a bit gorey but also delirious. But I'm not on your end; I don't know what you'll think.
"Craig?" Ashley whispered. She was too scared to speak up. She felt like someone else was in the room with her. Or at least watching her and she knew it wasn't the camera. "Craig?"
She turned over his body so she could see his face. This movement caused a ring of two keys to fall out of his pocket. Ashley grabbed and clutched them as she kneeled over at him, surveying his wounds. Her first instinct was to take his hand. The scalpel in his other hand indicated that he had indeed succeeded in cutting into himself. The stitches on his wrists broke her heart. Had he made a suicide attempt? Then she noticed the tape player. She hit the rewind button but stopped the tape before she heard it click, signaling it had finished. She caught the tail-end of Craig's message.
"Sometimes bloodletting is the only way to rid yourself of the poison that is seeping in. The key is hidden underneath your own flesh," the male voice said in a coarse tone that was barely above a whispered. She tugged at her own hair out of anguish and then slammed the tape player on the ground. It clicked off. She frantically felt her own pockets and pulled out an envelope. She tore into the paper and then placed the tape in the player.
"You are a heartbreaker. Let's make it literal," the voice stated. She noticed that his tone seemed slightly accusing.
"No…no," Ashley heard herself murmur and stopped the tape. Her mind was flashing images of open heart surgeries she had only seen at a glance as she surfed through television channels. She held her head and tried to block out the flashbacks of documentaries on ancient cultures that performed sacrifices on virgins, cutting into their chests and removing their beating hearts. She tasted vomit in her throat, spat on the floor, and stalked over to the door. Ashley heard something snap, but didn't care much about it. Locked. She tried the key and nearly stopped breathing as she found that it worked. The door was open now. She yanked at the device on her neck. Now she just had this to deal with. Her hands were shaking violently and she could barely put the key into the lock of the device around her neck.
"No. No," Ashley whispered as the first key, the one that wasn't used on the door, failed to work. "Not real," she muttered as she tried the other and found herself still wearing the strange steel collar device with the chain.
She clicked the player on again, taking baby steps back over to Craig's motionless body as she listened to the message.
"Time and time again you have run away from your problems. You shut down and that breeds a wasted life. You are too scared to embrace what you have. As for the broken boy before you, the key lies within him, embedded somewhere in his wounds. This time you are splitting open real wounds. Break open his wounds and you will be able to escape. Don't worry; he won't feel a thing with all the narcotics in his system. Please do not feel any twinges of sympathy though; no force was involved on my behalf. Amazing what he would put up his nose or into his arm.
You were not around to be his love drug, so he simply began to substitute. Don't be reminiscing and start crying. Go on and confront this. This is one situation you cannot escape from. You once said you would not sacrifice yourself simply out of sympathy because he is sick and weak. However, this is one last sacrifice you need to make. Will it be at his expense?"
Ashley shook Craig hard, "Wake up!" Her scream was cut off as she felt herself being jerked backwards, much like how an owner tries to control their frantic dog. She coughed and then dragged herself back over to him. The device was tighter now. She pleaded with him more as she delicately touched his wounds and began to undo the last of the gauze on his right wrist. Another yank. This time she looked up and realized that if she did not unlock the collar like device around her neck, she would be strung up from the ceiling. Her first instinct again was to grip the steel and try to yank it in all different directions. She began to hyperventilate as she scrambled over to Craig again. Ashley grabbed the scalpel out of his hand and held it over one of his stitched up wounds. She tried to tell herself that it was like ripping the seam of an article of clothing while another part of her was reminding her of how much she hurt him before and now she was going to do it again.
"Can't feel a thing," she muttered as she delicately split it open. Upon seeing the blood she screamed. She felt another yank on the chain. Ashley scrambled back over,pressed on Craig's open wound, and watched as more blood poured out. She couldn't feel the key. Was she supposed to actually dig inside the one she cared about? Another yank. This time she had to grab onto his ankle and use his body to crawl closer to him. She struggled to pull him closer to the device on the wall that held the chain, hoping that it would buy her more time. Then she noticed his shirt had risen. He had a horrible scar that ran lengthwise down his stomach. Three other patches of stitches were by the waistband of his jeans.
"No." It was a bizarre game of finding a needle in the haystack. Hide and seek. A scavenger hunt.
Ashley gasped as she was pulled back towards the wall. Easter eggs were in his wounds, she thought deliriously. She frantically scratched at a wound on his stomach now as the panic had fully set in. Her nails dug into him as she was jerked back. She managed to grab onto his wrist and gave a firm tug. His body slid slightly across the floor. She gave another yank and felt resistance. She saw the shackle on his ankle as she was yanked up to her knees. She reached out into the air in protest, in desperation.
"Why is this happening?" Ashley screamed and frantically attempted to rub his blood off of her hands. She was taking the role as Lady Macbeth. She was the one with blood on her hands and guilt eating at her heart. She had never meant to hurt him, then or now. She would look at his face and drift back to memories. At this point, the painful ones were easier to manage than the pleasant ones. For some reason, their involvement in grade nine tugged at her heart strings the most. How innocent they were. They never would have dreamed they'd end up in a situation like this. All they had to worry about was first dates and what clothes defined you. She was staring at his closed eyelids now, desperate to feel the gaze that would penetrate hers and nearly knock her over. Ashley wanted to dwell on his cheating, her yelling before she had ran away to London, or even how Craig hadn't had much of an innocent childhood and deserved more and she failed him by not trying hard enough. But somehow she kept sinking into the softness of the good times, which only reminded her that future ones – with anyone – where being cut short. In an effort to keep from traveling back in her mind to a memory of performing their adaptation of Taming of the Shrew, she began to run through Shakespeare titles in her mind. Hamlet; but the only thing she could see was Emma lying in her watery grave as still as Ophelia. How could this be happening?
She couldn't fight him anymore. Taming of the Shrew; the first face that came into focus was Craig's as he took his place on the stage for a Grade 9 drama exercise. He was so clear to her then. He knew who he was. Now she could see herself performing, attempting to find herself. She wasn't in her own body anymore. Her mind spit out among thoughts of her family and friends as she was yanked upwards again. At this moment she noticed a metal rod in the corner across from the door. She twisted her neck to see the gears that were being used to hoist her up. If she had only…
Now the tips of her toes touched the floor. Her eyes widened as she watched as Craig sat up.