Stained Glass Souls (Wattys 2014, Collector's Dream Award Winner)

Charliegh: Drowning Lessons

From behind, Dom grabbed her arms back. Something slithered across her wrists, rough as sandpaper, itchy on her skin. "I didn't think breathing was a requirement," he said, voice catching upon the edges of her hair. He tugged the rope tighter, forcing her wrists together, and completed the knot.

She was so certain of death. Or something equally horrendous. So fixated upon that terrible happenstance that her legs moved of their own accord, following Nolan back to the mangled heap of his bike.

He picked it up and rocked it towards her. "One final ride?"

She swung one leg over the seat wordlessly. It felt so wrong, so far removed from the first time she had sat in front of him, pedaling down the streets of Downtown Redemption. Then, she had had a future. She had purpose - unfulfilled purpose, but purpose nonetheless.

Now, all that remained, it seemed, was destined to be stripped from her. She craned her head towards the wind as he got on behind her and began pedaling. The breeze caressed her face, rolling her memories back to the ocean.

Free. She had been free. At this - fate - was her caging.

***

They were going to the Endell farm. Charliegh could see the top of the silo, rusted and grey, poking through the top of the branches. A rundown set of barns came into focus as they biked closer, window glass flashing in the weak grey sunlight. Beyond was the lake, surface flat and murky.

So this was where Randall died, she thought. Her hair tangled in her eyes, obscuring her vision, but she could see the bare bones of the last sight of his short existence. Tangled bushes, broken trees. Swollen clouds and overturned logs, cigarette butts littering the ground like burnt candy wrappers.

When they reached the middle of the property, the barns curving in a semicircle around them, Nolan slammed his feet into the ground. He grabbed Charliegh's waist and hauled her from the bicycle. "Welcome to hell."

Her heart was lodged in her throat, turning her breathing to gasping. "Where are we going?"

He leveled her a wicked look. "Where do you think?"

Dom started laughing. It sounded like howling in the stillness. He bounded up to the nearest barn and pulled the door open. "Don't scare her, Nolan." He said. "At least, not yet."

Inside, the air was damp. Cobwebs and bird excrement were littered across the floor and in the corners. An abandoned plow and a few broken lawn chairs took up residence in the space across from the door. Charliegh squinted, trying to see in the darkness. Nothing unusual awaited. There were no bloodstains across the floor, or hedge clippers hanging from the ceiling.

But there were a few pillows, stuffing splayed beside them, scattered across the floor. Those were enough to make her pulse pound frantically. Was this why he had brought her here?

Nolan was prodding her, fingers digging into her spine. "Take a seat," he said.

She stood above the cushions, surrounded by his friends, arms wrenched behind her, thoughts tangled. Escape was useless. There was a scraping as someone pulled the door shut, and they were left standing in near-darkness. A broken window spilled some light across the floor, but only enough to illuminate faces.

She couldn't run. But she wasn't about to sit, and willingly subject herself to his gleeful revenge. "What does this accomplish, Nolan?"

He walked around her, arms swinging casually by his sides. He looked cavalier, as if they were standing among the throngs at town days, swapping cruel remarks over coffee. "What does what accomplish?"