Be My Dreamcatcher [girlxgirl]

Eleven

The pain wakes up before I do.

There's a throbbing at the back of my head, which can only be the effect of whatever hit me.

I'm rubbing at my head when I fully see where I am. This can only be the inside of Benjamin Ramirez's house. The inside is in a better condition than the exterior, but only marginally. I'm currently half-lying, half-sitting on the floor which is littered with broken glass shards. I look around to see where Eva is—

There she is. Her hands are tied to the leg of a table that has clearly seen better days, and a man is bent in front of her, tying her feet. Feet which she is kicking wildly.

"Who the fuck are you? We came here to talk!" she screams.

The man looks up and whoa!

I've seen him before.

He's the shoe guy from the museum. The blue eyed brunet.

"It's better you keep your voice down," he replies. Then his eyes flick towards me. "Look who decided to wake up. I was thinking that the Sleeping Beauty would require a kiss."

I try to stand up and he points at something shiny in his shirt pocket. "Don't try, honeybun. You came here for your friend Evelyn. What would be the use of that if you ran away and I slit her throat?"

"You fucking psychopath!" Eva yells again while he's fastening the knots on her feet.

"Careful there, sweetheart. You're using a strong word." He gets up from his position in front of her and points at me. "Onto you, mi amor."

I shake my head. "You can drag me there all you want but I'm not getting up."

He shrugs. "As you please."

And in mere seconds, he's looming over me. He grabs my feet and actually starts dragging me. Just as I had wanted.

The rough floor chafes at my back and I thrash my arms wildly, particularly my right one where the littered glass shards are.

Finally he sets my feet down and pushes my back against the same table leg that Eva is tied to, but on the adjacent side. He secures my hands and the feet the same way as hers.

When we're quite in the position he likes, Benjamin Ramirez steps away and admires his handiwork.

"Are you Benjamin Ramirez?" I ask him.

"You're in no position to question me," he gestures to our bonds, "but you look cute there, so yes I am the same Ben Ramirez you were looking for."

"And why the fuck are we tied up?" Eva is trying to lunge at him but unfortunately her ties contain her.

"Oh but of course," Benjamin mutters and squats down to our eye level. "So that we could have a civil conversation, simple."

He's completely focused on Eva, so I move the two glass pieces that I picked up between my fingers. I'm completely sure he doesn't know that I have them, so the only thing to do is to keep him engaged while I work my way through the ropes.

Being clumsy and dextrous are not mutually exclusive and I'm thankful for that now more than ever.

Good for us though, Benjamin himself wants to remain engaged; he says, "Now that you two are just where I'd like you to be, I'll go back to my drink. A drink that I spilled because I thought it was cops on my door instead of you two." And he waves at the broken glass pieces on the floor before going over to the place that must qualify to be his kitchen.

It's practically in the room that we're in—living room I suppose—and has only a very old-looking stove, some dishes, and of course liquor bottles.

Benjamin goes and takes a swig straight out of one bottle. I start picking my way through the ropes on my wrists gradually.

"Why would the cops be at your door?" Eva asks him.

"All in good time, my dearest. Let a guy savor his drink."

"I hope a horse peed in it."

Benjamin walks over towards us and sits down cross legged in front of us, with the bottle clutched between his hands. "That's not a very nice thing to say now, is it Evelyn Bridgers?"

"Cut the crap, man," Eva says. "What do you want from us?"

"A practical woman who goes straight to the point. I like it." He takes another sip then continues, "Lydia was quite the opposite, you know. Well of course, you do," and he grimaces after another sip, all the while glaring at Eva.

Eva's whole body is strung taut; I know it takes her a lot of strength to say, "How long were you two together?"

Benjamin puts the bottle down and stares at Eva, his head cocked sideways. "Pardon, sweetheart?"

"I said, for how long did you two continue the affair?"

And in the moment between the last word of Eva's sentence and Benjamin's reply, my fingers stop their task momentarily because now it's crystal clear to me that Lydia Ackles never had an affair with this dumbshit.

"Well," Benjamin says, "that imagination of yours has taken quite a turn."