Dedicated to shotdeadkid.

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Chapter 38 | Where it All Began

"I think that some things are meant to be broken. It's the universe's way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. Only then you appreciate the good things."

-Sarah Desson, Saint Anything

• • •
(A few years ago)

Hope sustains life. For years, Mallory was a firm believer of it. Even though, she did not have a lot of experience, but the little snippets she could remember made her believe that hope always worked. Like when she was young, she hoped that her mother would recover from her father's selfish departure; and it took years for the pain and rage to subside completely, but it did, eventually.

A few years later, she remembered clutching by her mother's skirt even as she delivered the eulogy on her Nana's funeral. Whilst she heard her mother tear up, she wanted nothing more than her to stop crying. She had faith that it would pass. And pass, it did. Time did heal her wounds.

Also, when she was eight and her brother was down with a severe case of pneumonia, she could almost see herself sitting at his bedside table wishing him to be alright. It was only after two long days when he opened his eyes and whispered a weak albeit cheeky, "Smelly Melly." It was one of the best moments of her life.

It was a pattern, really. The best moments came right after the worst ones. Perhaps, that's what life was really all about. The prospect of darkness made other moments even brighter. And she wasn't complaining. She was fairly optimistic. And always had hope, hope that everything would be alright.

Until now.

As she stood there in a tiny red room, she could still relive what she deemed to be the worst moment of her life. In the past month, she had seen a lot she wouldn't wish upon anyone. She had been starved, beaten, locked up and scarred for life. And even when most injuries were superficial, the scars in her mind were perhaps permanently etched. But nothing that happened to her came close to what she did.

She could still hear the faint party music playing downstairs. She could hear the footsteps going up and down the stairs. She could feel the weapon in her hand. She could see the terrified look in Emily's eyes. She could hear the resounding of the gunshot. She could feel the recoil of gun making her drop the weapon.

She had killed someone.

And for the first time since her abduction, she felt like she deserved the punishment.

But that still didn't stop the formidable sense of claustrophobia that was sunk deep into her bones. It had only been a few hours but it already felt like it had been days. Incidentally, she had to spend three whole days without food and water right in that room. But that was somehow easier. Maybe because she could easily give in to unconsciousness. Maybe because she didn't have the guilt weighing her down.

But now, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Everytime she would close her eyes, she could see the redness which seemed to have seeped deep into the back of her eyelids. She didn't have any space to move around, she couldn't sit, she couldn't sleep, all she could do was look at the already tiny walls coming close.

So close.

And then even closer.

Until they seemingly touched the seams of her body and then...

"PLEASE, LET ME GO. PLEASE..."

Her own voice would echo all around her.

Please.

Please.

Let me go.

I am sorry.

She begged, again and again even when her voice became hoarse. Her hands desperately pushed at the walls as if, she could push them apart and get just a little more room. She used all her strength until her muscles screamed in agony and her blood was like fire in her veins. It was only then when she slumped against the hard wall wondering what did she ever do to deserve such a fate.

And it was only when her heart thumped so loudly hammering in her ears, when her clothes were drenched in sweat, when her fingernails ached after clawing at the back of the wooden door, when the tiny red bulb was rapidly going in and out of focus, when she was on the verge of much needed darkness, that her vision was flooded with painfully bright light.

And as her hand began to cover her eyes from the sudden onslaught of light, her body effortlessly slumped forward in the arms of her perpetrator.

• • •
(Present)

A knock on his bedroom door brought Andrew to the present with a distressing jolt. Much to his dismay, he found moisture at the corner of his eyes. Now, he knew why she was so afraid of closed spaces and it only fueled his ever growing rage. Perhaps, that is why his knuckles had clenched the little book so painfully tight. And the moment he let it go, it fell to the carpeted floor with a faint thud.

Was that it?

But why would she be punished for shooting Emily?

It didn't make sense.

"Andrew, can I come in?"

He heard another knock and muffled voice of his daughter's caretaker.

"Yeah, just a second." He picked up the journal, covering it with bed spread and spoke up, "Come on in, Julie."

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey, did you need something?"

"Yeah, I was just putting Evelyn for a nap and I wanted to borrow a pillow and blanket."

"Umm, yeah sure. Extra sleeping supplies are at the bottom of the closet," he pointed at it. "Do you want me to get them out?"

"Nah, I'll do it," she dismissed and walked over to the closet.

"Maybe, I should go downstairs and Evelyn can sleep here?" Andrew suggested.

"The girl is too lazy to move her ass all the way here," she grinned. "I'll just make her comfortable there."

"Okay, sure. Whatever you think is the best."

"Yeah."

"So, anyway, isn't she sleeping well at night? She hardly ever takes afternoon naps anymore."

"No, she isn't. That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Julie put the pillow under one of her arms and the folded blanket under another. "Tell you what, I'll put her down for her nap and be back here in fifteen or twenty minutes tops."

"Okay, yeah, sure." He said, his voice laced with worry and as Julie closed the door he returned back to the only other thing he could do while waiting. He uncovered the journal and began reading the dreaded part.

• • •
(A few years ago)

The next day when Mallory finally regained conscious, she could feel something was different about the atmosphere outside. The first thing she noticed was the sunlight beaming in from the grilled window. It was perhaps, the first day in a very long time, when she had seen the outside. The windows had been nailed shut right after her first escape attempt which was third day of her capture.

The second thing she noticed was that the door of her room was wide open. Her eyes widened at the implication of it; either it was the luckiest thing in the world or the most unfortunate, and knowing her luck, she would bet her money on the latter. But that didn't prevent her from taking a peak in the hallway.

That is when she noticed the third thing. Empty hallways. That was absolutely impossible! Even after the alarms, they had never left the rooms unguarded. With that thought she lightly stepped one foot out of the room, cringing whilst expecting the alarms to blare at any moment.

Silence.

Excruciating silence.

Stepping completely output of the threshold, she immediately treaded to her best friend's room and peeked through the unlocked door.

"Emily?" She called out in a hushed whisper.

"Emily?" She repeated with a knock at the bathroom door.

Emily wasn't there.

She could feel a sense of panic building inside her. What if they were punishing Emily for what she did? What if they had changed safehouses again and left her to die in the middle of nowhere? Only if she could control her stupid action, she thought, as the what ifs gnawed at her brain bringing with them a strange sense of nausea.

She had to look through the entire building and see if she was truly alone. And then, she will run to the nearest city and get Emily help. She'll either save Emily or die trying.

Or so she thought.

• • •

"You know, when I woke up strapped to this target, I knew what was about to happen. And it would have been so easy for you to shoot me right in the face and get it over with. But this, what you trying to do to her, it's just sick." Mallory heard Emily speak making her stop dead in tracks.

She had inspected all the floors and now when she was on the ground floor of the building, she finally heard Emily's voice. And she had mixed feelings about it. She was relieved to find her best friend alive but tied to a target? She had no idea what that was about. What she did know was that it certainly was not a good thing.

"Wow, thank you, Emily. I rejoice in sick. One of my many character skills," Antonio replied in exaggerated glee. "So, tell me, Em, any regrets?"

"No. None at all." She replied confidently.

"Ah, I can appreciate bravery. I liked you girls, we are all kindred spirits, really." He winked.

"Never. You are a killer! We are nothing alike!"

"I have never killed a single soul in my entire life. Gotta keep my hands clean, you know. Your friend on the other hand? Not so much."

"It wasn't her fault. She did not mean to kill him." Emily protected her vehemently bringing a smile on Mallory's face. And just as she was about to push open the door --

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" His voice bellowed.

Mallory cringed.

"Don't you see, it doesn't matter," he composed himself. "What's done is done. And someone has to pay for it."

"Even when we are actually innocent? How is that fair?" A tiny voice argued.

"Emily, let me tell you a story, okay? When I was eight, my mother died, got killed because some asshole thought it would be a nice way to make my father pay for some shady business. Now, while my dear old man was planning a vengeance spree and began one of the biggest crime syndicate of the country, do you know what he left me with?"

He paused for a moment.

"A dysfunctional brother and an infant sister. While he was out there plotting elaborate schemes, he forgot that he had kids back home. He left for weeks at a stretch, leaving me to fend for myself and my siblings. Have you ever gone without food for days? Believe me, it's not fun. At one point your body starts eating itself. Do you know how difficult it is to watch it happen to your brother or your little sister? I have done things you can't imagine just to put a piece of bread on the table. We were actually innocent. Do you think it was fair?"

"I didn't..."

"Of course you didn't. NO ONE DOES!" He breathed in and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, Emily? I hated my father! When he wasn't absent, he was an abusive asshole. He would lash out at the simplest of the things. You break a glass? Punch in a face. You serve dinner late? Kick in the ribs. You get a detention? Cigarette burn."

"And do you know why I never said a word? Why I never stood up to him? Because, even though there isn't much left of my family, but I wanted to keep the pieces together. Then, I found out that you testified against him. That's when I realized that all those years of hell were for nothing. You and your friend have managed to destroy my family piece by piece. And after what happened yesterday, you still have the nerve to call yourself innocent?"

"Mallory didn't know. Sh--"

"You know what? I have had enough of your bullshit. Elle, be a sweetheart and tape her mouth."

"NO. Pleas--" Emily's protests turned into muffled words as the thirty something woman slapped a piece duct tape on her lips rather unceremoniously.

"Now, Mallory, I think you have heard enough. Maybe, it's time you come inside? Let's have some fun, shall we?"

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Don't forget to press the star! 🌟

Hola amigos!

How you doin'? Thoughts on chapter?

What do you think of this? It's perhaps one of the most important piece of Mallory's back story. Just a few more chapters and then I'll finally start working on the climax part of the story.

Anyway I'm tired and sleepy, so I'll keep this short. Next update, sometime next week.

Until next time! 🌸

-Ridhima