Page 80 of Aperture

I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. Pain spikes through my nerves, from the top of my head to my toes. I can hear the shrill squeak of a chair being dragged across the floor. Finally, I manage to open my eyes and force myself to focus.

I’m lying on my side on the floor in what appears to be some kind of industrial building. I can hear footsteps and shallow breathing nearby. It takes every ounce of strength I possess to lift my head up four inches and look around.

“Look who’s awake,” a voice taunts me from nearby.

As soon as I hear it, I remember what happened and the nightmare in which I’ve somehow found myself. Only, I am not going to be waking up from this. I lay my head back down on the ground to stop the spinning.

“Nah, ah, ah,” he says. “We need you awake and alert for this. You are the main attraction.” Footsteps approach me from behind and suddenly I’m yanked up. I groan at the painful sensations traveling through my body as I’m dropped into a metal chair. I begin to slump over, but I’m jolted upright, my arms pinned behind the chair and fastened with something sharp behind my back. Probably zip ties, my foggy brain reasons.

I try to wiggle my hands but the plastic cuts into my skin. I feel the hot, acrid breath on my face, so I gently open my eyes, wincing at how even that causes me pain.

“Boo!” Johnny yells, three inches from my face, causing me to recoil in surprise and disgust. My brain starts to decipher what’s happening, and I slowly gain the ability to form coherent thoughts and speak.

“Johnny,” I say weakly. “What is going on?”

“What’s going on, Mills,” he says, void of any emotion, “is that we are going to have ourselves a little party.”

He walks out of my line of sight and I can hear him dragging something behind me. Suddenly he appears to my left, dragging the body of the man I love behind him.

“Wyatt!” I scream, but it’s useless because his limp body tells me that he is unconscious.

“Wyatt!” I try again, with no response.

“It’s no use. He’s out cold,” Johnny mocks.

I scan Wyatt for injuries. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding much, except for some scrapes visible on his arms and through the rips in his jeans.

Johnny walks behind me again, and the dragging sound is back. This time he is dragging Theo, who looks like he’s been fighting in a war. His eyes are swollen and he has a gash on his left eyebrow. His lip is split. His arm is hanging limply as if it might be broken.

“Oh my God, Theo!” I cry as Johnny drags him to the opposite side of the room. He is starting to come to, mumbling to himself. “It wasn’t him!”

With Theo on the ground in one corner and Wyatt on the ground in the other and me in the middle, Johnny grabs a duffel bag and drops it in front of me.

He reaches in and pulls out a small vial of white powder and sets it on the ground. Next, he reaches in again and starts pulling out items and laying them down on the ground next to me, one by one. First, more zip ties. Next, a large butcher knife. Then, a gun.

Finally, a red scarf.

He looks up at me and smiles sadistically. My body shudders and I begin to cry.

“Let’s get started!” he voices.

He grabs the vial and walks over to Wyatt. He lifts him up to the sitting position. Wyatt’s arms are tied behind his back and his head is resting on his shoulder. Johnny grabs him by the hair and lifts his head up, slaps him hard in the face, and places the vial under his nose. Wyatt inhales and his eyes open while gagging and coughing. I watch, with tears running down my face.

Then Johnny repeats the process with Theo, placing the smelling salts under his nose. Next, he walks to the center of the room next to me and yells, “Here we go!”

Wyatt looks at me, a mixture of relief and fear in his eyes.

“Millie,” he sputters. “Millie, are you OK?”

“Wyatt, I’m OK.” Although, my head is pounding.

Theo coughs and spits out some blood on the floor, causing us to look in his direction. It kills me to see him like this. I can’t imagine the extent of his injuries, but he looks like he’s in agony.

“Wyatt,” Theo says weakly. “I’m sorry.” Wyatt shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry, Theo. You didn’t do this.”

Johnny begins clapping loudly, bringing the attention back on himself.