The Tombstone

Truth

  He finally awoke from his mild concussion a few hours later, while it was still dark outside. But from where he was, you wouldn't be able to tell the time of day; for in the basement there were no windows.
  "Mmmm," he exhaled in pain as he turned a bit, his head throbbing the more he moved. And the swelling coming from his left temple bumping like it had a heartbeat of it's own. A fierce and strong heartbeat at that. He was lying on his back as he turned his head from one side, to the other, to the other. On a repetitive note. Feeling the sweat he had mustered in the fight he had with Stephanie.
Stephanie.
Where was she now?
He thought to himself, remembering what had happened before he was knocked out.
Did she escape? Is she gone? Did she find the police? Are they on their way here? Am I going to be arrested? What's going to happen?
All these thoughts came to mind as he still tried to wake up more. Gain more consciousness.
If she did get out, I have to leave. I have to get out of here. They could be on their way here now. I need to leave. I need to run. Get away.
Get away Rick. Get away now!

  Without even opening his eyes, he tried to get up. Or move around at least. But every move he made his head pounded even more.
Don't move then. At least open your eyes. Open your eyes and wake up a bit, and then go on your way.
He listened to himself carefully, figuring out a plan as he opened his eyes for the first time. But where he was was not what he was expecting. He was no longer in the hallway, where Stephanie knocked him out. Instead he was in one of the rooms. The rooms he put the girls in. In the basement.
What? How? How did I get in here?
He looked around a bit, studying the walls, floor and ceiling. The roles switched, feeling like he was the captive now. The captive in his own cabin. In his own game. As he became more awake, he began to sit up and study his surrounding, and the liquid he was drenched in. It was not sweat like he thought before. This liquid was poured and splashed all over the room. On the floor, the walls, dripping down from the ceiling. He moved his hand—which held most of the liquid—up close to his nose, smelling deeply, and then coughing.
It's gas. Gasoline.

  "Comfortable in there?" A voice startled him as he turned to his right where it came from. The door was closed, locked, concealing him in. And looking through the tiny slot on the other side of that door was a girl.
Stephanie.
She stood there, as if not having a care in the world. As if acting like the cute, bubbly girl who lived next door. He stared down at her in disbelief. Disbelief that a tiny girl like her could have pulled a big man like him into that room.
Maybe she was stronger than I thought.

  He tried to get up again, positioning his feet under him and tried to get momentum, but as soon as he made larger movements, his head throbbed again. A large, painful ache, demanding attention. And the ache caused him to sit back down as he held his head. "Aww, does your little head hurt?" Steph spoke to him in a mocking voice, then laughing a bit in spite of herself. She was teasing him, playing games. Something she had wanted to do for awhile now. But he didn't react to this, only paid attention to his head. "You know if I were you I would take it easy for awhile. Sit down and relax," she spoke again to him, waiting for his response knowing he couldn't hurt her anymore. And she was quite enjoying the role reversal. She enjoyed teasing him, getting back. But at the same time, she hoped the other girl would be back soon with help.

  "How....can I relax....when I'm....locked up like....this?!" He spoke in a more angrier tone as he continued to hold his throbbing head. And this sent Steph off, off in shock and disbelief. She laughed to herself a bit, but the laugh was more mocking than enjoyment. And then, that laughed was shut down as she became more serious, not showing happiness at all.
  "Yeah, now you know how it feels," she spoke as she narrowed her eyes at him.
How could he say that? He shouldn't be talking about being locked up at all! He has no idea what it's really like! This has only been for a few hours! He should try nine months! Or longer! He is an ugly piece of shit! Inside and out! Just kill him already Steph! Kill him now! And then walk away! Run away! Get away from here and say he started it! Tell them it was his fault! That you were only fighting back. They will never know! He will be dead! No one will ever know! And they won't, not even for a second, blame you! They have to understand you were just trying to stay alive. Survive! So do it now! Now!