Thanks so much for the reviews, I hope you enjoy this part too.
7.
He doesn't think he can take much more of this. Watching Hanna sacrifice herself for any reason would hurt him, but watching her sacrifice herself to take care of his dead body feels like someone's delivered a firm punch to his stomach. If he was dead, he wouldn't care if his body was chopped into little pieces and never found, as long as it kept Hanna safe.
He knows the hell she's going through could be so easily avoided if only he could get free. He pulls against the restraints yet again but it's hopeless, he's completely trapped. If anything, the shackles feel tighter now. His right arm hurts from it. He's never felt more useless in all his life.
He watches as she drags a hand across her eye, smearing tears into her hairline. She looks a mess and it's not just the knotted hair, bloody lip and scarred shoulders, it's the way she's trembling violently, almost retching as she's hit by more sobs.
"It's okay, Hanna. Hanna, don't cry," he says, even though he knows she can't hear him.
He scrunches his eyes shut. She's the person he cares most about in the entire world and watching her fall apart is a torture of its own. He once knew every single thing about her and he's never seen her like this before. He knew her darkest secrets, the content of her nightmares, the way she prefers her fries cold and the exact length of the dimple in her cheek. He also knows how good she is at masking her emotions for the sake of appearances and that she wouldn't be crying this way if she knew anyone other than A was going to see her do so.
It only adds to his guilt that he's watching her without her consent, spying on such intimate moments, and he bites down on his lip so hard he can taste blood.
"I'm coming for you, Hanna," he mutters through gritted teeth, though he has no idea how he can make that happen. He's got to get free somehow. He's got to save Hanna.
"Time to get up, Hanna."
"I'm not moving until I get an answer."
She's scared but the thought of anything preventing Caleb being laid to rest, is more than enough motivation to defy A. She's not going to let him down now.
"Last chance to get up."
She folds her arms across her body and stays where she is. She can take whatever comes her way as long as she remembers it's for him.
The first time she hears it, she barely registers the noise. But then it comes again, and she realises what it was. A hiss. Tentatively, she lifts her head. On the floor in the middle of the room, there's a snake, swerving its way towards her, a forked tongue darting out to taunt her. She tries to stifle a sharp gasp.
She pulls her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible. She has no idea whether it's a poisonous snake but knowing A, there's every likelihood it is. She grabs a fistful of duvet and squeezes as hard as she can in an attempt to redirect her fear. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway, but at that moment she notices a second snake, just across from the first and moving much faster. Another two, are being fed through to her from the other side of the door.
She thinks of Caleb. He'd tell her she was brave and the crazy thing is, he'd have truly meant it. She takes a deep breath and tries to be the person Caleb thought she was. One snake is making vast progress at reaching her so she does only brave thing she can think of and throws a pillow at it. Surprisingly, considering the amount of high school P.E. lessons she skipped, it hits the target.
But the snake swarms out from beneath the cushion, lifting its body as it hisses at her. Crap, she's made it mad. It wraps itself around the leg of the bed and starts to wind its way to her. She jumps off the bed but she can't think of anywhere safer to go. There are snakes everywhere and they're all coming her way.
His heart is pounding. He's not usually afraid of snakes but he'll make an exception for snakes that are angrily hissing at Hanna. He can only hope she's got more sense than to try hitting it with anything else. If it's venomous and it bites her, it could be fatal. He can't lose Hanna. And he can't sit here watching her die.
Her eyes are darting around the room as she steps one way then the other, trying to find a snake free location. He clenches his jaw. He should be there with her, getting her to safety or stepping in front to shield her if safety wasn't an option.
He switches between two of the cameras to get a better view on the whereabouts of the snakes. It's pointless, even if he spots one Hanna has not, he has no way of warning her, but it's instinctive to try to protect her. The nearest one to the lens is a bright green, thin and long as it winds its way across the room.
If it didn't seem so utterly ridiculous, he'd think A had charmed the snakes to all gang up on Hanna. They're all winding their way towards her, the nearest, the one she'd aggravated with the cushion, still lifting its head to hiss at her. Hanna backs away. She's about to be cornered. Then with a moment of resolution, she darts to the wardrobe and climbs inside, shutting the doors, closing herself in.
He'd felt invasive watching her, but it's even worse now he can't see her. He doesn't know if she's okay or if she's crying or panicking, needing someone to help her calm her breathing. The thought reminds him to take a deep breath himself. He does so, but his chest still aches with worry. He wonders if this is the plan, to keep him and Hanna here like this forever, torturing her and making him watch. Or perhaps it's going to kill him eventually, turn its fib into the truth. He shudders at the thought. He's taken a bullet before, but he knows he can't survive getting shot in the side of his head, blowing his brains out. He can't let that happen. He can't let Hanna's torment be for real.
"Are you listening?" he says, staring at the ceiling as if A is looking down on them, "or are you too busy messing with Hanna?" He tugs against the clasps. "Let me go! Keeping me locked up… what's the fucking point?"
Suddenly the CCTV cuts out. The screens are blank. Writing appears, just like it had before.
Okay.
Let the games begin.
He blinks, not sure he's read it right. The words remain. He chews at his already sore lip in anticipation. Then the door opens and a masked figure enters. Caleb baulks. It looks just like their assailant in the barn, except it's a syringe in its hand rather than a cattle prod.
He recoils. As the person comes closer, he fights against the restraints, kicking and hitting as best he can. But it's no use, he's helpless, the intruder can easily overpower him. He resorts to his only defence and spits. Saliva lands on the black mask. A hand grabs roughly at his face, covering his mouth, fingers poking into his cheeks and turning his head to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he can just about see the needle coming closer and then there's a sharp pain in his neck. He feels the cold liquid trickle into his veins. His limbs feel heavy. Black patches fog his vision. He blinks furiously, trying to see clearly, but it's only a few seconds before the whole room grows dark. He slumps forward, held up only by the shackles.
When he wakes, he's on the floor. There's a strange taste in his mouth and a ringing in his ears. Everything hurts. But when he reaches to rub at his aching head, his arm is able to move. He's free. He struggles into a sitting position and waits for the room to stop spinning. He staggers to his feet. Whether it's the sedative or the days locked up, it feels like he's forgotten how to walk. He makes it into the corridor, using one hand against the wall to stabilise himself, and begins the walk back to the bedrooms.
"Hanna!" he shouts. "Hanna!"
She's in the wardrobe, shaking. It's barely big enough for her in there but somehow that makes her feel safer. It's only her in there. No A. No snakes. It's just a waiting game and she can do that, she's done it before.
But then she hears it. Hears him. Calling her name. She scrunches her eyes shut and the ever-present tears leak from her eyelids. She's finally losing it now. Hearing things, hearing people who can't be there. Maybe this is what grief and heartbreak does to you.
But it gets louder and louder and every detail is exactly how she remembers; the gravelly tone, the breaks mid-word when he's upset, the higher pitched inflections that show his desperation. She doesn't breathe as she opens the wardrobe door a fraction to listen again.
"Hanna!"
It's him. It's Caleb. She may be going crazy but she'll welcome it if it means she gets to see Caleb again. Cautiously, she climbs out. There's a snake not far from her, but it's settled now, and she scuttles past it without even getting a hiss.
The room door is open and she passes through it without a second thought.
He's the other end of the corridor but she spots him straight away. He looks a little unstable on his feet, especially when he clocks eyes on her.
"Caleb?" she whispers. She feels like she's about to pass out. "Caleb." She clasps a hand over her mouth and screams into it. She's hit by the intensity of emotion and no matter how much she wants to move, she's frozen to the spot, sobs ripping through her body.
He runs towards her and they collide in a mutual barrage of limbs. Her arms tighten around him, then one of her hands moves to touch his head, his shoulder, his hip, needing to feel him and know she's not imagining this. She's not sure whose legs give way first, but they collapse to the floor together, still wrapped in each other's arms.
She can't stop shaking. Every nerve is tingling with relief. She'd thought she was never going to see him again. Even though here's here, in front of her, in one piece, the grief crashes down on her all over again. Her sobs are noisy and uncontrolled. She can't stop reliving each terrible moment where she thought he was dead. She grabs at him blindly, gets his wrist, and squeezes as tightly as she can manage. She can't let him go. She can't lose him again. He was dead. She really believed he was dead. The memories clutch at her chest and stop air from entering her lungs.
"Breathe," he says, tilting her head up to look at him. "It's okay, Hanna, I'm here."
She looks up at him and manages a breath. His cheeks are damp too. She wipes his tears, cupping his face in her hands. "They- they said…" She can't vocalise it. "I thought…"
"I know."
"You-"
"I'm okay," he tells her, shakily. "Everything's okay."
His arms wrap around her and he pulls her to him, holding her against his chest. She lets the material of his t-shirt soak up her tears. "I- I don't know what I'd do if- if…" she weeps into his shoulder.
His hand rubs circles on her back. "It didn't happen."
"You're really here?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it was all a lie."
She lifts her head from his shoulder and pulls back just enough to examine his face. She can picture it so clearly, the bullet hole in the side of his head, the shattered skull, the pools of blood. She shudders. "But I saw you. I saw you… dead. A photo. I… I really thought… I saw it."
"It was photoshopped." He strokes her hair. "It wasn't real."
Her fingers work their way inside his t-shirt, dancing across his ribs. The softness of his skin helps convince her that he's really there. Alive. "I've been going insane. I don't think I could live without you in the world."
"Babe, don't." He plants a kiss on her forehead. "Listen, you need to know… I- I saw it all. They made me."
The twinge of embarrassment at him seeing her in that state lasts only a moment. He's still crying in the raw, unrestrained way that she's rarely seen from him before, and it all makes sense now. "What did they do to you?" she asks, breathlessly.
"Nothing. Strapped me down, made me watch you. It doesn't matter. It was worse for you."
With her free hand, she strokes his hair. "Baby, I'm so sorry."
He traces down their arm until their hands meet and then joins them together. "No, I'm sorry. I'm never letting you out of my sight again."
"I don't want you to," she says. She feels another tear trickle down her cheek. "I really thought you were dead."
He reaches for her hand, still beneath his top, and moves it up to press against his chest. "You can feel that, right?"
Underneath her hand, she can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. "Yeah. I feel it."
They watch each other, no need for words, their eyes saying everything they need to. They move in synchrony to meet each other at the lips. At first neither deepens the kiss, the touch alone, being enough. Then Caleb starts to kiss her properly and she moves her lips against him in return. Her fingers knot in his hair and she pulls him against her, wanting him closer, needing to feel everything that she thought she'd lost. A salty tear trickles between their lips. She can't tell if it's his or hers.
She doesn't want to stop kissing him, now or ever, but with tears blocking her airway, eventually she has to pull away for breath. He rests his forehead against hers and she stares into his eyes. Although he's looking at her in the way that has always made her melt, the redness of his eyes and the purple bruise on his cheekbone remind her of where they are.
"What's going to happen to us?" she whispers.
"We're going to get out of here."
She wants to believe him and so she lets him kiss her again, but the magic is gone this time. She can't forget they're trapped in hell or that they shouldn't be kissing each other anyway. She can't stop agonising over what A has got planned for them next.
"I'm scared," she admits.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leaves his hand resting there, gently stroking her jaw. She can see him working through the possible responses in his head, discarding each one as implausible or a blatant fib. Eventually he sighs deeply. "Me too."
"Okay, I think I'd rather you lied."
He pauses. "I've been thinking. There has to be a way out of here somewhere, right? It's got to be in one of these rooms. We just need to find which one."
"Except A only lets us go where it wants us."
"Well, we can rule out the rooms we've been in already. If only there was a way to override the lock system. I tried a few things when I was on the CCTV but," he shakes his head, "it's a different set of controls."
"So how do we get to those controls?"
"I haven't got that far yet." He frowns. "Look, all I know is that whatever happens, we're in it together, okay? Wherever you go, I go. We sleep one at once while the other keeps lookout. It's alright to be scared, Hanna, but we're not giving up hope. Not ever. Understood?"
She can tell from his expression he means it but it's hard to feel the same when, as far as her emotions tell her, she's already experienced the worst thing imaginable and she's filled with dread that it could happen for real.
"Hanna?" he prompts.
"I- yeah," she says, limply.
"Promise me."
She rolls her eyes at the earnestness on his face. "Fine, yeah, I promise."
"Good." He pulls her back against him and a few seconds in, she feels able to relax into the embrace. "I love you."
"I love you too."