Page 63 of Caged
I jump and let out a scream. My phone clangs to the floor. I drop to retrieve it when Kieren grabs me by the hair, hauling me to my feet.
“Why are you down here?!” he booms in my face.
I clutch my phone close to my body as he yanks me from the small room and out into the basement. When he realizes I still have it, he snatches it from my hand.
His fingers are wrapped tightly around my neck like I’m an insolent child as we march in terrifying silence back to his room. Wrath oozes from his every pore, and my stomach twists with mounting anxiety as I ready myself for battle. Once inside, he slams the door hard enough for it to bounce back open.
“Get in,” he says, pointing to the cage in the corner of his room I had completely forgotten about. He shoves the bedroom door closed and this time, locks it from the inside with a key.
“No,” I shout at him. “I’m not getting in that fucking dog cage. Do you want to tell me what the fuck happened in that room tonight? Did you have sex with that girl who went back there with you and those men in the demon masks?”
He stalks over to his desk, leaving my questions unanswered, and opens the top drawer.
“Kieren,” I stammer, unable to find my breath when I see what he’s holding. “What the fuck? Why do you have a gun? Stop, put it down!” Tears stream down my face as he takes two steps closer. I get down on my knees, unable to stop my body from trembling.
“In,” he says, nudging my ass with his foot.
A sob shakes free as I crawl backwards inside the confines of the cage, wincing as the bottom wires dig painfully into my kneecaps and palms.
“Please, Kieren,” I beg as he latches the cage door shut and then secures it with a combination lock. “Please, don’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just… I saw you go in there with her. I thought…”
“Shut the fuck up,” he barks at me. “If you say one more fucking word, I’ll duct tape your mouth shut and your hands behind your back.”
I gasp for air through my sobs as I awkwardly try to lay down on my side, curling my knees into my chest. Kieren places the gun on top of his desk like a cruel reminder of my helplessness.
I watch him climb back into bed. Cold bites at my bare skin. My teeth chatter as I heave, squeezing my arms tighter around my legs as if they are scraps of a blanket.
A gun…
A fucking gun….
I have to get out. I can’t be involved in whatever this is anymore. Pointing a gun at my head and making me sleep in a fucking dog cage is where I draw the line.
He’s lost his mind, and I fear this time, it’s for good.
At some point, between convulsing because I was so cold and losing sensation in my legs, I must have fallen asleep.
“Kieren,” I call. My voice is hoarse from crying and spending the night sleeping nearly naked on the floor. “Kieren!” I call louder.
“Kieren!” I shout, banging against the door of the cage. “Let me out!”
He doesn’t move.
“Kieren, let me out! I have to go to the bathroom!”
He rolls out of bed at a snail’s pace, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before acknowledging my desperate pleas.
“Kieren, please,” I beg.
“Alright!” he shouts with annoyance, standing. He crouches down in front of the cage, twisting the combination of the lock and jerking it down to pop the mechanism open. The curved bar snaps up, and Kieren flicks the latch of the cage to the side, allowing the door to swing open.
I glare at him as I crawl free. My legs are stiff from sleeping in a tight ball, and it takes more than one attempt to stand.
He flops back onto his bed, unashamed by his actions. The black Glock sits on his desk, untouched. I know it’s a Glock because when your shitbag of a mom remarries a mobster who runs a racketeering ring out of your childhood home, you end up seeing more than your fair share of firearms.
My fingers curl into fists, but I resist the urge to slam the bathroom door in Kieren’s face. I don’t know what version of Kieren is out there this morning, and I don’t want to take my chances. Plus, now that a weapon has entered the chat and been pointed at my head, the stakes have, needless to say, escalated. I must tread carefully, at least for the next few hours until I can get out here. To distract myself, I rage-brush my teeth until they have a pearlescent sheen and start a shower.
Hot water streams down the crown of my head as I slowly come back to life. Every memory from last night I suppressed so I could get a lick of sleep resurfaces with a vengeance.
