Oh, how noble of him, to spare me for these few extra moments, to find his conscience just in time for me to hail him a hero.
Everything he'd done, everything he was willing to do, and he hadn't even known why, only that it would make him money.
I felt so sick, so disgusted that I thought I might vomit. And maybe I would have, except that my stomach felt empty to the point of hollowness.
Jordan was pacing across from me, like a caged animal, a scowl twisting his open, kindly face. Observing him, it occurred to me that he moved in a similar way to Clyde, but that was where their similarities ended. The resemblance was so absurd that I wanted to laugh.
He was watching me, too, watching over me, but not because he thought I might escape. It was as if he thought I might take comfort in his presence, someone who might put his own desires second to me. Like he could protect me from those others and their intentions.
But I refused to look back, instead, focusing on a shiny black beetle that had been disturbed by the spotlight, its shadow cast long as it scuttled over the dirt.
My heart was like gun shots, sharp and loud, reverberating through my body, hammering in time with the pain that wracked my entire being. The image of Kyle's twisted, snarling malice was still burning in my mind when he hit, kicked, tossed me to the filthy floor.
My body was already a mess, my clothes torn, but that was only where the pain began, not where it ended.
Because I was at war with hope. The hope that Clyde might come for me, somehow get us both out of this. But the reality gnawed at me, the threat, the promise, still echoed around the derelict building; of what I was going to have to watch them do to him if he did come, and of what he would have to watch them do to me.
Of the cruelty and hatred I'd ever known in the world, nothing could ever amount to this, to what he promised, with so much malice, reminding me of how utterly worthless my life really was.
And I'd tried so hard to understand, to put myself in Kyle's perspective. But the cruelty of the world, his resentment, it was just too big for me to ever comprehend.
To him, I was small, worthless, no more important than the beetle I still watched, just as expendable. And why should I be anymore important than it? It was only trying to live, just as I was. Just as anyone was.
Any minute, I expected that third man, the cold, quiet one, to burst into the shed to hurry Jordan up, but the door remained closed tight, at least, as tight as it could be, swaying dangerously on hinges decaying with rust, slow, contrasting against my pounding heart.
Some merciful fate was at work, the slowest hour of my life deteriorated, the next began to drag by, and still, all remained quiet. Jordan didn't try to make conversation, but he came alive when, finally, Kyle returned, interrupting his restless pacing.
His eyes were alight, barely contained glee causing them to bulge and dance as he glanced first at Jordan, then let his gaze settle on me. And, although his words were for Jordan's ears, his eyes never left mine.
"He's here," he crooned to him, sickening, the quiet gentleness of his voice seeming so perverted against the violence in those burning eyes.
And then, there he was; Clyde, wild eyed, despite his eerie composure, manically alert, following behind someone new, blonde, clean shaven, though lighter than Jordan, and nowhere near as neat.
YOU ARE READING
Bonnie and Clyde
Teen Fiction'Monsters are real, as much as we want to deny their existence, and sometimes, when you close your eyes and wait for them to go away, they're still there when you open them again.' What would you do if you came home and found that your whole family...
