Dickers’s is right, the guys outside could bust in here at any second, and if I want to get out of this, I need to delay these jerks for as long as I can.
“I haven’t done anything to you and you’re going to kill me,” I say more softly, trying to create more guilt and doubt in their heads.
“I vote we slit her throat,” Dickers’s grins.
Calvet makes a face, as if he finds it distasteful. “That would be even messier than a bullet. We’d have blood all over us.”
“Oh my god!” I shriek.
The pain in my head nothing now that they’re discussing how to murder me like they’re trying to figure out where to go out to eat.
Focusing my attention solely on Trent and Jacob, I try to get through to them. “Killing me won’t save you guys. You said it yourself, Trent, Dickers just wants me dead because he’s sick. Please don’t do this!”
“Strangulation it is,” Dickers nods in agreement.
“Who’s going to do it?” Calvet asks, looking at the other three. “I vote not me. This isn’t my fucking mess.”
Trent shakes his head and backs away from Dickers. “I… can’t…” Then he suddenly turns green and bolts to the back of room, heading for the bathroom.
I almost vomit myself when I hear his puke splashing into a toilet.
But that’s one down that can’t hurt me…
Rolling his eyes, Dickers turns toward Jacob. “I think you should do it.”
“What?!” Jacob nearly shouts in surprise and takes a step back. “Why me?”
Expression hardening, Dickers explains, “Because you’re the only one in this room who could blame this on us later.”
“I wouldn’t...” Jacob tries to argue.
“You say that now, but what about six months from now? When the guilt starts to eat at you?” Dickers presses and takes a step toward him. “The guilt over Cronin is already eating you up.”
“I was trying to save Cronin,” Jacob says in his own defense.
My blood can’t decide if it wants to turn hot or cold hearing him say that.
“Save him?!” I scoff in disbelief. “You got him killed!”
“Exactly,” Dickers nods, ignoring me. All his attention riveted on Jacob as he continues to drill into him. “You weren’t in with the Russians like us. You were just trying to cover for your son and save your friend. When this is all over, what’s to keep you from turning us in for a slap on the wrist?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Jacob insists and tries to square his shoulders.
Dickers grins and spreads his hands. “Then prove it. Kill her.”
Jacob starts to shake his head, looking like an older imitation of Trent.
And for a moment, I have hope that he’ll be the voice of reason in this madness. That it’s true what they said. That he didn’t kill my dad. He was trying to save him, and he’ll save me…
“Do it,” Dickers growls, done playing nice as he takes another threatening step toward Jacob. “Or we’ll all die here. You, me, Calvet, and Trent. You know what those men outside are capable of. You’ve seen their handiwork firsthand. You think they’ll simply put bullets in our heads after what we’ve done? Fuck no. It’s going to be fucking painful and messy. You want that for yourself? You want that for your son?”
Stiffening, Jacob just looks at Dickers for the longest time.
Long enough for me to pray for them to all suddenly drop dead, with their dicks falling off.
Then his shoulders slump and he says exactly what he said in the car when Dickers first convinced them they had to kill me. “Damn you, Dickers.”
Any hope I had that he would somehow save me turns to ashes in my mouth.
The only thing I can hope for now is that the men outside decide to do something.
Why aren’t they doing anything yet?
Dickers chuckles ruefully. “We’re all damned, might as well survive for as long as we can.”
Jacob shakes his head in disbelief.
“Stop stalling, Jacob,” Dickers says when Jacob makes no move to do what he agreed to do. “Do it now, before it’s too late.”
Trent stumbles out of the bathroom, wiping his mouth off with his arm. I can smell the puke on him from here and it turns my stomach.
Dickers nods at Trent. “Do it before Lucifer comes in here and tortures and murders your son.”
“Fuck!” Jacob curses loudly, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard him cuss this entire time.
In fact, it’s probably the first time I’ve heard him cuss in my entire life.
Turning to me, Jacob takes one step forward, as if it pains him to do it and says, “I’m sorry, Sophia.”
“No,” I gasp in disbelief and try to scoot back on the mattress. But I might as well be a fucking turtle stuck on its back.
“Please, Jacob, don’t do this,” I plead.
Tears fill my eyes as my death walks slowly toward me.
His face a twisted mask of regret and grief.
I’m not even dead yet and he’s already grieving.
“I have to, sweetheart,” Jacob chokes out with his own tears gleaming in his eyes. “I don’t have a choice.”
“You do, you have a choice!” I insist as he reaches the edge of the mattress. “You can do the right thing!”
Looming above me and pausing, Jacob says, “It’s already too late for that.”
“Oh god.” Trent gags, drawing Jacob’s attention, then he runs for the bathroom again. Retching before he makes it to the toilet.
“Do it, Jacob. We’re out of fucking time!” Dickers says angrily.
Sucking in a big breath to steady himself, Jacob bends forward and reaches down, wrapping his hands around my throat.
As his hands begin to squeeze, I kick uselessly at him.
“I’m sorry, Sophia. So sorry,” he croaks out, his grip tightening around me, cutting off my air.
Tossing my head back and forth, I try to shake him off.
But his grip only tightens.
Tightens to the point that my head starts to feel like it’s swelling up with unbearable pressure.
I can’t tell what’s more agonizing, the fact that my lungs are screaming for air or that his hands are crushing my windpipe.
My eyes burn, my tears becoming acid, as I stare up at him. Stare at his face as he literally strangles the life out of me.
Please, I don’t want to die, I silently beg, my head growing fuzzy.
I want to live and see James again. There’s so much I still need to say to him. There’s so much I need to do!
I want to snuggle Fluffers and brush Mitzy’s hair.
I want to meet Beth’s baby, and I want to play hide and seek with Charlie.
And I want to be around for Amanda! She needs help.
God, please, I want… I want to have my own family. I want to get married and have a baby. And maybe travel. And maybe do other things…
I don’t want to fucking die! Not like this!
In one last surge of adrenaline to save myself, I somehow manage to arch my back up, off the mattress, and plant my feet.
Determined to see this through, Jacob pushes me right back down with a sob, his stranglehold so hard and constricting, I swear my windpipe is cracking.