Page 21 of When Sinners Fear
“Not even fucking close,” Knox rages at him, and it makes me scared for what he might do if those bars weren’t in place. “You’ll still die, Reed.”
Reed turns his back on Knox, and you can see his anger and frustration in his stride. He circles the cage as much as he can as if trying to figure out what to do next.
I focus on his steps, the approximate length of each stride, and the speed at which he covers the ground to calculate his speed and then forecast and predict how fast he’d be able to run. The math grounds me. Given the particularly troublesome situation, running over familiar patterns, sums, or equations is soothing.
If I give my mind time to think about the predicament we’re in, I know I’ll lose it. There’s time enough in the future to come to that conclusion. Right now, I’ll focus on anything and everything I can to distract myself.
The distance between each of the bars of the cage provides an uncomfortable resting position, but I lean against them anyway. The ground is cold and made of old, crumbling concrete. The dimensions of the room are hard to conclude as the lighting doesn’t allow me to see where the far wall ends.
“What have you done with Naja? Is she alive?” There’s something in Reed’s voice that makes me look at him in the gloom. Why would he have to ask if she is still alive?
“Would it help me to tell you anything? You won’t be getting her back. Certainly not now.”
“You came for her and risked everything.”
“You killed our brother. That vengeance is owed. And if you think Logan can protect you forever, you might want to re-think your plan.”
I listen and try to digest their back and forth.
Knox’s brother was killed.
A girl called Naja was taken.
She was taken back.
And now Knox is here. With me. The consequence of taking Naja and threatening a priest, who seems to belong to Logan. There shouldn’t be talk of a priest in any of this. My mind travels back to the Sunday service. Is Father Michael the priest the first man spoke of? No, that doesn’t add up. Although, he did introduce me to Knox. He looked so proper. So handsome. And I had thought both our dates had gone well. I liked him. He gave me a challenge, and he’s smart and charming.
But as I look over to him in his cage, he’s almost unrecognisable.
“Seems we’re at an impasse,” Knox says.
“Not from my position. I’ve got nothing left to lose. You, on the other hand, have everything to lose. Think about that for a while.” He turns and leaves the room, the clang of the door sealing us in.
~
The silence is deafening. It’s vast and scary and brings back all the questions I can’t answer, so I focus on anything I can. The picture of the periodic table in my room has been ingrained in my memory since childhood. The elements it depicts make up everything I know, and that’s something to focus on right now. I run through each element in turn and recite all the information I have on each element.
It’s not long before Knox starts to yell. “Peyton shut the fuck up with the mumbling.” I ignore him and keep going, keeping my head turned to the side and focused on a small dent in the wall. The cracks splinter off in multiple directions, suggesting the integrity of the wall has been compromised far more than the dent alone suggests.
“Peyton, please. I need to think, and I can’t when you’re mumbling and talking like a crazy person.”
“I’m not crazy. I’m talking through the elements on the periodic table and all of the facts I can recall about each one.” I know he doesn’t want my explanation and that indeed, some might express what I’m doing as crazy, but I hope that he can understand, given where we are.
“Do it in your head.”
“Why? We’re not getting out of here. There’s no key, and the strength of the steel is far too great to break with no tools or equipment.” My comments aren’t helpful, but I don’t understand how he thinks he can magic up an escape.
“You’re looking at things in a very literal way.”
“Would you rather I start asking you questions? Like, who is Reed? And who is Logan? Who is Naja? And is she alive? I’m not sure I want to hear the answers, so I’m doing everything I can to distract myself. If that bothers you, I’m sorry, but right now, I really don’t give a damn!” My voice shrieks at the end, and I’m shocked to realise I’m breathing hard. I run over the obvious physiological responses to a situation like this. Stress, anxiety, fear, and everything they exert on the body.
Knox doesn’t answer; he just looks at me, and I don’t wish to scrutinise what he might be thinking now.
He shakes the frame of his cage before sitting down and tilting his head back, somehow managing to rest it between the bars.
A wave of fear and sadness engulfs me as the silence takes hold.
I was already late, way past the time when my family would have expected me home, no doubt disappointed in my choice to stay out a few extra hours rather than put their needs first. And now I’m here, where nobody knows I am. No phone, no friend to call and check on me. No emergency services. Nothing.