Messed Up (40 page)

“Seen Levi lately?” I asked as if I was making small talk at a wedding reception. Pushing James’ buttons was helping restore my equilibrium. I could feel my confidence build incrementally.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he growled at me.

“You know you even sound like Levi?” I said with a grin, “It’s kind of sweet actually. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, right?”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head backwards. It took all my concentration, but I managed to just laugh at this action. I could imagine how red James’ face must have gotten under his ski mask. The door opened behind me and my hair was immediately released.

“
Out,” ordered the unmistakable voice of Alistair Bennett.

“
See you around, James,” I said with mock enthusiasm.

Mr. Bennett moved around to sit at his desk; taking time to trace the back of my neck with the tip of his index finger on his way. I forced myself not to shutter at his touch. He sat in his chair, leaning back slightly and stared at me for several long moments. I met his stare with my own eyes.

“
Chelsea Mallory,” he finally said with a chuckle on the edge of his voice, “You have been quite a surprise to me.”

“
Thank you Mr. Bennett,” I said, hoping to sound casual, though my legs began to tremble at the sound of my name passing through his lips, “I’ll take that as a compliment. I doubt you are often surprised.”

He smiled crookedly at this comment, but his eyes narrowed as he spoke, “What exactly do you think you are playing at?”

Here it goes, I told myself, you’ve got to get this part exactly right, “Oh I’m not playing,” I said firmly, “You see, I have something that I know you want. And there are a couple things I would like in return.”
“I don’t make deals with sixteen year old sluts!” he screamed furiously. I sat completely still, refusing to move my eyes from his face. My relationship with Levi had prepared me for sudden outbursts such as this.

“
Then it’s your lucky day, because I’m
not
a slut, but I
am
positive you’re going to want to negotiate an agreement,” I paused for a split second and then added, “unless you don’t want the map, of course.”

“
How do I know you have my map,” he asked his voice sounding like he was struggling to contain a scream.

“
I have proof,” I smiled, “If I could get my backpack from my car, I’ll show you.” He picked up the phone on his desk and instructed the person on the other end to bring my things. Moments of silence passed and a knock sounded at the door. My backpack and a pile of my clothes were placed on the desk in front of me by a masked figure that I didn’t recognize.

“
So show me this proof,” Mr. Bennett hissed.

“
I’ll need you to untie my wrists,” I said keeping my eyes fixed on him. He pulled a large pair of scissors from the top drawer of his desk, and came around to where I sat, but instead of cutting the zip tie that bound my wrists, he suddenly forced the scissors under my neck. I could feel the sting as a warm trickle of blood dripped down my neck. I sucked in my instinct to scream in pain or alarm, and sat completely still.

“
I could kill you right now,” he said, pressing the scissors more forcefully at my jugular, his hot breath inches from my ear.

I inhaled slowly, “You could. But then you’ll never get your precious map,” I said between clenched teeth. In a flash the scissors were moved from my neck to my wrists and I felt the ecstasy of freedom as I pulled my arms around to the front of my body. My shoulders celebrating their release with a warm tingling burst.

Mr. Bennett returned to his seat behind his desk, while I stood up and retrieved my backpack. I could tell it had been searched thoroughly, which, having anticipated as much, did not come as a surprise. I
was
pleased, however, to see that the secret hiding space I had created was still intact. I used the edge of my car key to split the seam that held my backpack’s care label in place. I carefully pulled a small piece of folded paper from behind the label. I passed it to Mr. Bennett’s outstretched hand.

He looked at the tiny square I had cut from a corner of the map suspiciously, studying it silently. He eventually took out a magnifying glass to inspect it more closely. I was sure he was hopeful that it would hold some clue to the location of Charles Hawksely’s hidden treasure. This fragment of paper was my only evidence that the map existed and that I knew where it was.
For a long, unbearable moment while he looked at that tiny scrap of paper, I allowed myself to consider the possibility that I had gotten it all wrong. That maybe the map I’d found behind a cartoon polar bear at Yogurt Heaven was something else entirely. My heart began to pick up its thudding tempo as I considered that this might be the end of me; a painful and humiliating end I was certain.

As Mr. Bennett contemplated the tiny swatch of paper, I began to gather my clothes from his desk, quickly pulling my jeans on under the nightgown and my sweatshirt over top. “There’s your proof,” I finally said as I sat back down. I was eager to get this over with, whatever the conclusion might be.

“
How do I get the rest of it,” he asked his voice having become sickly sweet, condescending even.

“
You’ll get it in two years,” I said, bracing myself for another explosion, “When I graduate from high school with all my limbs intact, and every member of the Fanning family alive.”

“
Two years!” he thundered, “What’s to stop me from torturing you until you tell me where it is?”

“
The map will be destroyed if I die or go missing,” I said trying to sound calm, but I could hear my voice beginning to crack, “Time is ticking, Mr. Bennett. There is no way I can call off those instructions. So it’s up to you. You’ve waited this long. Can you wait a couple years more? Or are you so impatient that you would risk losing it forever?”

I watched him carefully as his face turned from white to red to a deep shade of purple. He grabbed a heavy crystal globe paper weight from his desk and heaved it fiercely at the wall behind my head. I could feel it pass my face in a quick burst of air. My body went motionless as the globe came into contact with the wall and shattered to the ground in a thousand tiny pieces. I closed my eyes for a moment to regain my focus. When I opened them again, Mr. Bennett’s face was inches from mine.

I nodded to my backpack where a copy of the DVD confession I had given to Conner sat, “Three copies of that DVD will be mailed if I ever to go missing or turn up dead. One will go to the District Attorney, one to the Police and one to the FBI. I’m pretty sure they’d all be interested in what I have to say about the death of Toby Fanning. Feel free to preview it if you haven’t already.”

Alistair Bennett stood up and began pacing back and forth in the room, “And that’s it? That’s all you want?” he confirmed.

“
I want to have the assurance that you won’t kill me or any of the Fanning’s,” I reiterated, and then added my final request; the piece that would allow me to go back to being the Chelsea Mallory of two months ago, “And I want to you to send Levi away for his senior year. And, it should go without saying that he should think that the move was your idea.”

At this he laughed his devilish giggle, “I’d already intended to do that after his insubordination last night,” he exhaled, “Fine. You have a deal.” What did he mean about Levi’s
insubordination?

We stared at each other for a moment longer; both wondering if the other had another card up his or her sleeve. Then we stood. I pulled the nightgown out from under my clothes and left it in a heap on the ground. I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door.

“
I’ll show you to your car,” he said, his smile turning to the gleaming white grin of his lawyer self. I followed him down the long dark, lifeless hallway, and through a side door leading out of the house.

The warm glow of the sun cast long shadows from the oak trees on the driveway. The day was just ending, bringing me to the realization that I had been locked in that tiny torture cell for an entire twelve hour period. Time sure flies when you are unconscious or immobile with fear. I could feel my body begin to tremble subtly as I got within arm’s reach of my car. Was this really working? Was I actually going to be able to pull this off? The taste of victory sent my body into near convulsions.

Mr. Bennett tapped my old Volvo, “You should have at least thrown a new car into our little agreement, Chelsea,” he smiled, almost warmly.

I climbed in not answering him. He was so much like his son, switching between moods like they flavors of jelly beans. My hand trembled, as I forced the key into the ignition. I half expected my car to explode, like in a gangster movie, but it started up loudly, as always, and I put it into gear.

Mr. Bennett knocked on my window and I grudgingly unrolled it so he I could hear him, “I look forward to working with you in the future, Chelsea.” I furrowed my brow at him. I hated the way he had to keep repeating my name.

I reversed my car quickly, nearly knocking him over with its sudden movement.

It wasn’t until I was at home, and locked in my room, that I finally let myself begin to sob. Big fat tears of pure joy gushing down my face, like a levy had just been breached. You did it, I told myself. You made it to the other side of evil. And if you want to know the truth, at that moment I felt more powerful than any five foot three inch sixteen year old girl has ever felt in the history of the universe. I swear. I’m not even exaggerating. I mean if I could take on Alistair Bennett,
nothing
could stop me.

The whole event from finding the map, to constructing my elaborate plan, to breaking in and out of The Valencia, to being locked in the stark white cell of my nightmares in the Bennett mansion, all of it, took place in little more than twenty-four hours. Yet as I lay in my bed that night, looking up at the ceiling, the same ceiling I had stared at nearly every night of my entire life, it all appeared completely changed. In fact, my whole bedroom seemed to belong to a stranger; a version of myself I could barely recognize. The pink of my walls were a shade another girl would have selected, not me. The black and white photo of me and Hannah at my cousin’s wedding looked unfamiliar, as if a moment so carefree was impossible; those people simply could not have existed in this lifetime. It was like all at once I didn’t fit into the space I had inhabited so easily just days ago.

I knew there were people I should call, first and foremost was Bryce, who was still hiding out with Sam, probably fearful for his very life. And then there was Conner. Of course I should call Conner and let him know I’d made it, that I was alive, the DVD’s could wait to be sent. I was too exhausted to have either of those conversations. So instead, I shed my clothes, put on my pajamas, and collapsed into bed. I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.

It was utterly dark when I woke up. Since the last traces of adrenaline were gone, the pain on my lower back where I had been branded like livestock had begun to burn intensely. There was also the stinging on my neck where Alistair Bennett had press the sharp edge of a pair of scissors to it. I rubbed my hand across my neck and felt the rough line of dried blood. Stumbling through my dark room I made my way to the bathroom. I groped for the faucet, turning on a stream of coldwater. I splashed it against my neck, dousing my entire chest in the process, “Crap!” I mumbled, frustrated that I would need to change into new pajamas. I reached to switch on the light, and as I looked up at my reflection, a jolt of terror ran through my body.

39

Standing behind me, his face carved like a fiendish looking jack-o-lantern, was Levi. I had to blink my eyes several times to fully comprehend what I was seeing. On either side of his perfect mouth was a small slit, about an inch in length. The cuts were mirrored on the outer corner of his eyes. Spreading over his white t-shirt, like a menacing Rorschach ink blot, was a deep red blood stain.

“Oh my God, Levi!” I stammered, “Are you okay? What happened to you?” My legs became weak as the surprise of his startling appearance seeped through my body. He reached out for me and I reluctantly let myself be pulled into his arms. When he didn’t offer any explanation, I added, “Are you trying to give me a freaking heart attack?” I could feel his mouth turn up in small, albeit painful, smile.

The blood from his stomach was flowing heavily, and I slowly realized my shirt was becoming increasingly moist as we pressed into each other. I pulled Levi by the hand and led him to my room, where I switched on my bedside lamp and retrieved the once forgotten and now in high demand first aid kit. I carefully lifted Levi’s shirt and gasped audibly. The gash was at least two inches in length and spread open, gapping wide and red, “Jesus,” I mumbled, “This cut is beyond my expertise, Levi. You need to go to the hospital.”

“
I was on my way to my doctor, but I needed to talk to you first,” his voice was so quiet, he sounded fragile, like if he spoke any louder his whole being might crumble to small dusty pieces on the carpet.

“
I’ll drive. You can talk on the way,” I said forcefully. Levi and I had our issues, but I wasn’t about to let him bleed to death on my watch; I had enough guilt to live with for one lifetime.

“
Nah,” he said leaning back so his head could rest on the wall, closing his eyes in pain, “Noah’s in the car. I’ve got to talk to you about something,”