Plaything

Easy does it, in and out.

Don’t look around too much, don’t let your eyes fall on any of the movements. And, for the love of all that is good, DON’T look up.

A hard chest presses up behind me, a familiar scent of leather, wood and sand oozing into my nostrils. Tiny hints of sweetness so gently wafts around, it hurts not being able to look at whoever smells so damn good.

“You need to leave us, and this world alone,” he breezily whispers, running his nose down the back of my neck, “It could get scary.”

Yeah, no shit Sherlock. If it were so peachy I most definitely would not have followed your little satanic prayers cult through the woods trying to snap up some of the best pictures of the rich kids and their playthings. I cringe inwardly, playthings. Imagine having so much money, your toys really shouldn’t be called “toys”.

I suppose he felt my body tense as I thought about his toys, because he stopped circling around me. Breathe in, breathe out, he’s still here but not so close. My shoulders relax, my breathing evens out. What I thought was thin air suddenly feels so, oxygenating or whatever.

He swoops to my side, fisting my hair and cocking my head, I hear laughs. All sorts of guttural, animalistic laughter; masked faces decorated Kabuki warrior style slowly emerge from the depths of the darkness, “Do you want to play a little game?” a snicker. He drops my hair, my head throbbing. The air is thin again, my body stiffens, my head races, my blood pressure begins to pulse in loud thrashes... a game?

“When I say run,” he begins, sauntering around my body in circles, his head twisting and turning as if addressing a crowd, “you run. If we catch you, well, you’re no longer free.”

We. Free.

My throat tightens, and I desperately try not to croak out my response, “Who am I running from, and where am I running to?”

“That’s the spirit, she’s on board,” he almost laughs, “you know just who you’re running from, and it doesn’t matter where you run because you’ll never be free.” He whispers the end, harsh and freakishly alluring.

I do know, I know now. My hands reach for my hair, tie it in a knot. Zip up my hoodie, and try so very hard not to lurch around. Just keep it level headed Gabe, there’s nothing they can do that hasn’t been done to you before.

All for the sake of a picture, I remind myself. Of course, I went too far this time. My bag hoisted across my shoulder, and my Nixon D3500 DSLR hung around my wrist, I followed them closely, noting everything I saw in my black notebook. The “Golden Trio'' as I like to call them, lurk around in the blanket of night, what they did was a mystery. I learnt all of two things about them tonight: one, they had something important to do. They no longer just raced their cars at meets no, they freaking stripped them. Why? Well why would you strip the top tier of each model from the interior down, then burn it? I don’t know. And two, they trapped me. They’re dangerous, and not in the hot James Bond kind of way either. The kind that makes your veins freeze, and your eyes dreamily imagine the Devil instead of them.

I think they knew I was coming, I think someone saw me, but I doubt it. I think they just knew. After walking up the cottage like steps, trekking past the old Church where I swear you can still hear the bells swing, and onto the dirt path behind the Old Church; I lost them. Then I heard them, but couldn’t see them. I didn’t know my ways around these parts, it was tragic really. Spent my whole life in this town and barely knew it.

That’s when I felt it, the brute force striking me down. A swift motion, dragged somewhere with these boys. So many things could have happened, for one I’m not just average looking, 5”2 and long dark hair like a mane; ivory skin with bright green eyes, some say it’s like looking into a forest. People say I look feline, tentative. I wouldn’t know, I just know that I’m not exactly average. I guess that’s what made me panic at first, maybe they wanted something from me, but who am I kidding? These boys could have anyone for that.

The sinister side says they want something looks and money can’t buy, but a game? This is something different. Something darker, deeper, and dreadful.

“One….. two….. run.” He sings out, a heavy handed push to start me off. I run of course, forgetting how heavy my back pack now is, heavier than when I left home with it on. Forgetting that I saved for three months to get these Air Force Ones. Forgetting I straightened my hair, and that the top knot is more than likely going to create an actual knot.

Slamming face first into a tree trunk, I lose all sense of direction. I begin cursing because honestly, how did I miss it? The bark was hard and for lack of better words, spikey. I lay sprawled in the grass, trying to regain my wits. They could be anywhere, but I would never see them. I’d have to hear them, but if I can hear them, then it’s already too late.

I hear a crunch, a snap and a laugh.

“She’s got legs on her.”

Laughter, this time with a more ‘bad boy next door that makes your heart swoon’ kind of voice, “legs get my attention.”

“Pity she doesn’t have eyes.” Short and cruel, oh your voice I could pick out of a concert of mosh starved punks. Jace.

He kneels down, brushing the lock of stray hair from my face, cupping my chin, “What should we do with her?” He smirks.

“I don’t know hey, how much do you think she knows?” This one must be Rocky, he’s the joker of the three.

Tall and lanky, leaning across the very same tree I ran into, casually; as if I were in his room and he were at the doorway; not as though we were in the middle of nowhere, with a freshly hung moon shining down on us. He is also the one who did most of the talking tonight. Carefully stepping around me, Rocky comes face to face, unlacing the ribbons so carefully tied behind his head, his mask drops. The sly grin across his face, and the steady blue eyes carefully taking me in, all trouble. He is trouble, the kind that breaks your heart in one night.

“Leave her.” Lincoln. He’s just as pretty as the other two, except not. All hard facial features, and the respect that follows him is eerie. Just the sound of his voice makes my knees tremble.

“I didn’t do anything, okay. I just wanted to know what you guys do and-” I begin. It was a lie, kind of. I wanted to write a story, about posh kids with too much money and not enough brains. I wanted to crush my secret insecurity of being somewhat poor, and laugh because rich kids don’t have it all. That’s what I hoped, but now I see so many wonders and a world of fascination. What do they do and how did they get so much money?

“Why didn’t you just ask?” Rocky relaxes, flexing his hand against the trunk, “you didn’t have to follow us.” He smirks, the sides of his mouth revealing they really would not have told anyone a thing.

“Guys please, no more games. My head hurts.” I look up, Jace’s hand still under my chin, his eyes burning with distaste.

“Well, you take your bag, your camera and go,” Rocky says, so happy go lucky, “I look forward to seeing you next time we play.” He pushes off the tree, pointing to a path.

I look left to right, this has to be a joke. People don’t just knock you unconscious and drag your limp body around all for a game of tag. Some might, but this doesn’t feel right. Something else is going on.

“Here,” Rocky lends a hand, “if you come back through here well, you better run faster.” His eyes shone with a twinkle of mischief, I hope he doesn’t think I’m gawking.

Pulling me up, I cautiously look around, no something is most definitely not right.

“Uhm, okay. Sorry.” I run, a fleeting response, ah this must be the moment of failure. I found out very little, I was basically assaulted, forced to run and they seemed so easy about it all. They didn’t even seem to care. Weird. This is weird. He said I’ll never be free if I’m caught, and I was caught. I’m not free. But what am I not free of? Why am I even running, let’s be honest they’re all track and field stars; they could catch me at a jog.

This is too easy.

My car rumbles across the gravel, the dirt kicking up at either side. I was speeding yes, but I had to get away. None of the events of tonight lined up and I so desperately wanted to pretend it never happened. To leave, shower and rack my brain for being so stupid as to try follow these people.

Ding!

“Huh?” My phone ticks off, ‘I can see your secrets, and they’re all safe with me, but in return for this favour, play a little game with three’

You’re joking.

‘Stop. You said I’m free, I don’t want to play.’ My fingers type, a mixture of annoyance and concern erupting, how do they even have my number?

‘Oh but Gabe, it isn’t your choice anymore. Open your bag, tell us if you like what you see.’

I open the bag. What the fuck. There was enough cash in here that I would have to work for months at the theatre just to scrape up.

‘Our playthings get rewarded handsomely, you just have to run. $10,000 and we can have some fun.’

‘Run? That’s it?’ I don’t trust them, but- My eyes fall across my dashboard, it’s older than me. The dim light of my family’s trailer park home and the scratched paint job, coupled with the memories of trauma….

‘I can do that.’

Seeing them at school the next day, it was different. They didn’t even notice me. That’s a good thing, but it makes it harder to conjure up some reasonings as to why what happened, happened.

Face first in my locker, I skim the cover pages of my books. I lost my notebook as I ran last night, the black one with a leather finish… huh? It’s in here, right at the top next to my camera. Also, “lost” last night.

My hands grip the black notebook, and carefully, turn the pages, half of my work is gone! Across the first open page there’s writing, ‘Are you ready for game number 2? There’s $10,000 at stake here’

What the hell is the game here, I don’t get it. I slam my locker closed. Behind the door, is Rocky, watching me with eyes just as tentative as mine. How I didn’t hear his approach, I don’t know.

“That’s not the answer I was looking for,” Rocky whispers, nudging me with his elbow, “this game is much more fun.” He leans down, a whisper in my ear, my body freezes, eyes open wide in shock.

“What do you want me to do?” I whisper back, quirking my brow.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I just got 10K for running, this shouldn’t be an issue.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I can do this.

Breathe in, breathe out.

10 more for a game.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I am their plaything. And I, Gabriel Morningstar, will never be free.