Chapitre 27: Chapter 27th
…Dreams end.
I opened my eyes to the sound of his husky voice. It called for me – my name – and exhaustion's confusion almost saw me answering: I tried to stretch, thinking I was in my bed; I mentally visualized the source of the voice with the usual warmth, the usual adoration that followed from being near him… But then my movements were impeded. The air was thick, stifled, moist and moldy, and in a painful instant I remembered. Full consciousness rushed in, and my heart resumed its panicked race as if it had never rested: I was in the cupboard, in the dark basement, my cheeks were clammy with dried tears, and the fear was real!
"I should have known you were up to something…" he remarked calmly from his invisible position "…You were too quiet down here!"
I pressed my palm to my mouth to contain a gasp as I saw his shadow walk by me through the small gap between the cupboard doors. It seemed he smiled, amused…
"Where are you, huh? Show yourself, Abby. You know I'll find you."
Definitely I could hear it: the rare sound of enjoyment in his voice. It was all a game for him, wasn't it? He didn't have to move so slowly, so carefully… there weren't that many places I could be: he only took his time because he was enjoying it, enjoying the anticipation he created, the fear it spiked in me.
He made certain he paced around the entire basement in this hunting, unhurried stance; but when he reached the farthest wall, I heard his breathing change, interrupted by a huff of surprise. He crouched down – not so slowly and not so carefully now – inspected the hole in the ground - his great blue eyes fixed on it, struck with worry… but soon they eased, the light of amusement returned to them: the dirt had but been moved around. The idea was sound, but I wasn't skilled enough to follow through, and that brought a pleased smile to Chris's lips. His prey was too weak to gain its freedom back, and that deserved a chuckle.
"You really tried, didn't you? You tried so hard to escape me!" He could barely keep his voice from cracking "Desperately, too: I can almost picture it…Like a little mouse chewing its own leg."
He was out of sight now, but I followed the sound of his voice as he approached.
"I just hope you didn't hurt yourself. I wouldn't want any blood, not just yet… that would make a mess of things!"
I squeezed my mouth harder as I squealed involuntarily. My breathing grew out of control.
"No…" he reflected further "I want you whole. Not a scrape, not a bruise, not a single tarnish, accidental or otherwise... I figure I deserve as much, don't I, Abby? For all the care I've invested, and all the patience…"
I could see him now: he stood at the bottom of the stairs and tranquilly looked around himself. His muscular, tall body, his broad shoulders, his superior proportions which had otherwise enchanted me, now only brought home the horror of my impotence against him… my utter helplessness.
"And speaking of patience… I've ran all out of it. I don't wanna play games anymore. If you show yourself now and come to me willingly, I'll be so pleased I promise not to hurt you. Well? What's it gonna be? Once again you get to decide your fate, as if you were a big girl. Let's see if you can choose more wisely this time around…"
I can't lie: cowardice did spur me, did urgently beg me to jump out of that cupboard and surrender myself before he found me, to claim whatever mercy he had to offer – whatever 'mercy' meant in Chris's vocabulary - … But a more intelligent part of me told me it was just a trick, just another small torture he amused himself with. Questionable intelligence, though: he would find me. He didn't need my surrender, and hiding on would change nothing: he merely played with me. In a way, I guess he played with himself. His smile said as much:
"You won't, will you? You're hopeless, Abby. I gave you plenty of time down here – enough to tire your little fretting heart out and still have plenty left to consider your position and start doing the smart thing… but it seems you've done nothing like that. Must I walk you through it, Abby? – your choices so far, and where they got you?" He paced about again, slowly, smirking as he dictated "Starting with your lies, of course…".
It wounded me that he was as aware as I that this was all my fault. Strangely enough, it made me self-conscious to have my flaws scrutinized by him, as if I still wanted to impress him. Why though? Why, through it all, would I still want him to like me?
"You should be very remorseful about your lying, Abby – it is why you got here in the first place. You don't listen, you don't obey, you don't respect your elders – or anyone around you, for that matter. You think you're smarter than they are, don't you? You do…" he snickered "It's an age thing, I understand: to think you're better, brighter than everyone, immune to their mistakes. You think your mom is a loser for ending up in a shitty marriage – you'd never get stuck in a situation like that. You're better than your teachers who nagged you to work on your grades - I mean, what do they know, right? You're better than that one friend who followed you around, he knows nothing about you, really… he doesn't get it, he doesn't know the real you, that deep, dreamy, whatever it is you call it. But he just wanted to protect you. You know that now, right? But… most of the times we don't consider something bad might happen to us, and those who try to warn us are just… I don't know, scared cats? Whatever they are, they're not special. Not special like you… and bad things never happen to the special ones." He smirked as he mused, then a sigh followed:
"And finally… adoring as you are, you even think you're better than me. What, surprised?" He spoke as if to himself, but hitting the target as my eyes bulged out "You do believe it, in some subconscious level. Think about it: you went around making up lies about your life as if I was too dumb to smell the bullshit. Now, for example… you must think yourself SO smart for hiding, don't you? But honestly, how incompetent would I have to be to lose you in a basement this big? It's insulting, really!"
At last, he paced my way, not slowly, but decided – aggravated by his own words.
"Just… don't flatter yourself so much in those big, dramatic thoughts of yours. Your sacrifice won't be a great one; the world will not lose its light; their lives will go on."
I saw his open hand coming towards the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, held in my breath, wished I would be magically protected, teleported, saved… Instead, I heard the doors' hinges squeak as they were opened.
"Of course I knew you were there." He smiled "You're not a genius. You're not special."
Of course!
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone