Page 53 of The Spiral

He nods at the cage again, a look of comfort making me question the lucidity of all of this. He’s proud of these people and the state they’re in. Proud of himself for the fact that they’re here at all. Dogs, he called them. Nothing but dogs.

“They’re my present to you, for you,” he says, backing away a few steps. “Use them.”

The keys in my hand suddenly turn to ice in my grip, the freezing temperature making me jump and lose hold of them. They clatter to the floor, skating sideways, and I scurry to grab at them before it’s too late. The tall one’s hand has grabbed at them before I can get there, latching onto them and drawing them back into the cage with him.

He looks as surprised as I am as he falls back onto his haunches and fingers the steel in his hands, eyes narrowed, as if maybe this is the first chance at escape he’s ever had. I don’t know what to do, causing me to look at Jack for help. He doesn’t give any at all. He just stands there and waits for me to do something, a wry look on his face as if something is funny.

“What now?” I ask, turning back to face the tall one and resting my hands on the cage bars. The other two come forward, pacing a little behind the front one and making some noise that haunts the air with more visions of Selma. “Jack? What now?”

I feel entranced by the look of the three of them as the two scamper about behind the tall one, mesmerised by the sight of them acting like a pack of dogs. They don’t even seem to move like humans anymore. They’re lower, almost bent over as if ready to run on all fours. And the small one fidgets constantly, as if scratching himself and shaking all the time.

Crashing feet on the spiral break me of my trance, making me swing to look at the door again and wonder what to do. He’ll be here soon, his hands grabbing at me to make me go back to a life I don’t want. Jack said these men would help me, that I should use them. I don’t see how, or why. They’re just prisoners here, ones I’m sure will run for their freedom the moment they open this door.

“I don’t want to go back with him,” I muse, closing my eyes and resting my head on the bars. “I don’t. I want to live again.” The scampering about stops in front of me, their bare feet suddenly silent on the stale carpet beneath them. “I want a chance, you know?” Tears come from nowhere as I say those words—tears I’ve cried all too often as I remember my life as a teenager, the hope associated with that. “I just want him to leave me alone so I can live.” The gun hangs heavy in my pocket as I roll my forehead on the bars, trying to dismiss the idea of killing him. It’s not me to be like that, no matter how I want to end my life with him. I don’t even know if I can. I’m so full of Selma’s love I can’t think of anything but life with Jack. “I need help, Selma. I’m not a killer. I don’t know what to do.”

The gate in my hands unexpectedly pushes open, making me jump back and scurry to the corner of the room. Shit. I brace against the wall, my arms covering myself as I tug the coat tighter in and stare at the tall one. He frowns at me, the twitch in his brow the most human thing I’ve seen from him so far as he stands tall. The other two hover in the gate, seemingly unable to walk through it as they sniff the air around them nervously.

“Jack?” He doesn’t answer, just sits there still, his legs firm in front of him as he crosses his arms and watches on. “Jack? What do I do?”

The sudden burst of speed that comes from the tall one has me trying to climb the wall behind me, desperate to escape his potential hold on me. I go to scream, my mouth opening, and then remember Lewis and clamp my mouth closed as the man stops in front of me, barely an inch between us. He sniffs, nostrils flaring as he inhales close to my neck, then sniffs again as he moves his face around mine. My eyes squeeze shut, willing whatever is happening to stop so I can run, but nothing happens after that. Nothing at all in the minute or so I wait.

This could be the end of me, and perhaps it should be. Lewis could come in here and kill me for my misdemeanour. Or I could do it myself. Perhaps then Jack and Selma could be together, lose themselves in each other. She could take me over, change form with me somehow so this confusion could dissipate. That’s what seems to happen when we’re close. Maybe that’s what this is all meant to be, where it’s supposed to end up.

I smile at thought and reach into my coat pocket to close my grip around the gun again, relaxing. My eyes might still be pressed closed, but suddenly I’m far less confused about everything. Any form of death might be the right way forward. Mine. Lewis’. Either way, I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore, at least.

I’d be free then.

Free, Maddy. Home.

“Selma? Is this it?” I whisper, trying to avoid the smell of the tall one under my nose as I imagine them together, us together. It’s as warming to me in this frigid room as it always is. As heart softening.

The heat blooms inside my chest, readying me for whatever’s coming as I start opening my eyes and squeeze the metal in my grasp. Whatever it is, I want to see Jack as it happens. I want to watch him smile at me and welcome Selma home, see the love in his gaze. Everything has been about this moment, about them joining. And I can feel it so deeply entrenched inside me, as if I never had any other option but to succumb to it. Lewis dead or me dead. That’s the way this works for them both. It’s why I’m here, so I can let them be together again in some way.

Footsteps echo in the halls outside, making my gaze swing to the door rather than the man in front of me. I don’t think I’m even that scared anymore as I wait for the door to burst open and draw the gun from my pocket. I’ll either die here for Jack and Selma, or I’ll shoot him myself when he enters the room. I doubt I’ve got the capacity to do the latter, even with Selma circulating my skin. I’m weak like that, fearful. Always have been. Maddy is as feeble in this scenario as she’s always been, no matter how hard I’ve tried not to be. But I’m damned if I’m going back with him again, not after this realm that’s shown me true love.

I’d rather die.

Fear begins to ride me again, anxiety rippling through my body as I wait and wonder what will happen when he sees me and Jack. Tears come from that thought alone, some latent thought of love for Lewis encroaching on me. It fills me with times gone by of my own, of the memories in Paris and the way he used to make me smile. Where did that man go? Why? I wish I had the answers as I raise the gun towards the door, barely able to point it for my shaking hands. It would give all of this some reason. It would give my life some reason before it ends or I become a murderer.

Free, Maddy.

“Oh god, help me.” The plea wobbles out of me, and I’m unsure who I’m asking for help. I can’t do this. I know I can’t. The gun that felt so secure when Jack showed me how to use it feels so frightening in my hold now. I’m scared, trembling, the metal juddering about as I try to hold it straight at the door and pretend I’m in control of this. I’m not. I’m terrified of him. Always have been. And he’s here now. I can hear him on the outside, hear his voice coming for me. “Please help.”

The door crashes in before I get another chance at breath, Lewis’ face immediately penetrating me as he storms a foot into the room. He stops and spins his angry glare to me, making me back to the wall again, then flicks it at the tall man still stood in front of me and around the room.

“The hell is this?” he snarls, scowling at the scene, as he fills the doorframe and bores those eyes into me again. I shake still, every ounce of fear I’ve ever had making me quake at the thought of what he’ll do to me. I flick a half glance to Jack and find him stood this time, his scowl as hard as Lewis’ as he returns the glare.

The gun in my hand vibrates still, now pointed at the back of the tall man’s head. He’s moved slightly, getting in my way, and all I can see is his back. It’s layered with filth and grime, bits of blood dried into what’s left of the shirt that once covered him.

“Come here, Mads. You’re coming home,” Lewis spits out, offering his hand to me.

Mads. Little Mads. Cute, easy going, forgiving Mads.

Still I shake and point the gun, unsure who I’m pointing it at anymore. I’m not going home with him, though. There is no home with Lewis. There is only pain and humiliation. Hatred and disgrace. The thought rouses my hand, the quiver in it diminishing slightly as I continue to point it towards the doorway.

“You burnt down my home,” I mutter, watching him scowl again at my noncompliance. The room stays silent as I watch him, an eerie hush taking over as the other two men quietly scuttle towards the tall man. They hover by him, one of them crouched low as if ready to launch, just as a dog would. The vision puzzles me, but somehow reassures me regardless of its incongruity. It about blocks my view of Lewis completely, allowing me to feel safe behind these men even if they do look like zombies with their absent gazes and mutilated frames. “You killed Callie.”

“Stop being a child, Mads. Come, now. Callie’s fine. She’s gone home. I talked to her. She couldn’t get hold of you on your cell phone, told me you’d come to a meeting here.” Did she? He must have threatened her to get that information. “I don’t know what the fuck you mean about your stupid little house.” I frown, trying to work out why he’s lying, what he really wants. “And put the damn gun down. You need help. Look at you.” I briefly glance down at myself, taking in my appearance. Naked apart from a fur coat, the front of it open as I stand here with a gun, showing off the hand prints of another man who’s been inside me. “What the hell are you doing here?” And my feet are covered with mud from running with Jack, laughing, loving. It makes me smile and embrace this cold air, enjoying Selma’s hold on my madness. I’m freer like this than I’ve ever been.

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