Lost Highway(17)

Dropping the bat, I know what I need to do next. If Quill was angry before I hit him, he’ll be absolutely homicidal when he wakes up and sees what I have in mind for him.





Chapter Seventeen


Quill




I was wrong when I told Odessa I feared nothing. Being caged terrifies me. I don’t realize this fact until I wake from the head injury to find my wrists chained to the wall. Yanking at the restraints, I learn what Tom’s trophies did long ago. There is no escape.

Odessa stands in the shadows, swaying and humming. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s losing her humanity.

“Unlock me,” I say, keeping my voice calm.

“This is the only way you’ll let me.”

As Odessa inches out of the shadows, her fair eyes dart around the room before focusing on me. She seems smaller now.

I don’t know the proper response to this situation. She’s clearly dangerous. I know I can kill her if she gets closer. If she dies, though, no one will unlatch the chains. Spending years or an eternity in this basement does not interest me.

“What do you want?” I ask as she steps closer.

“You push me away. I need comfort.”

Odessa straddles my legs and lowers herself onto my lap. Her movements lack the jarring nature of the unhinged Death Dealers. She’s still in control enough to move smoothly. Her gaze on mine also shows a hint of sanity lingering around the edges.

“Does it hurt when I touch you?” she asks, cupping my face. “Were you hurt as a child, and affection bothers you?”

Answering her with the truth isn’t the correct response. I realize my need to be correct does make me seem like a robot. Human contact is natural, and Odessa wants to feel safe. I can give her enough comfort to get free. After that, I’m not sure what happens.

“I’ve never known affection,” I tell her.

Odessa nods and lowers her cheek to my shoulder. Resting against me, she shudders and relaxes.

“I miss hugs,” she whispers. “I never realized how good they felt before.”

“If you unchain me, I’ll hug you, but it’s not safe to have me locked up.”

“You’re lying,” she says, lifting her head and staring at me with her glassy eyes, “about the hug. I’ll let you go when I’m done. You can kill me and go back to your old life. Everything will be fine then. For now, no lying.”

Odessa presses her cheek against my chest, and I attempt to be patient. As much as I want to break these chains, my freedom will come from soothing Odessa before she goes mad and uses one of the nearby tools to end me.

“My mother never hugged me after Athena died,” Odessa says, wrapping her arms around my waist. “She never told me that I was to blame. She never said she hated me. I still received gifts for my birthdays. They still helped me with my homework. They still told me they loved me, but my parents never hugged me after that day. I think pretending they didn’t blame me was too difficult if I was in their arms the way Athena never would be again.”

“Adolescents are naturally impulsive and easily distracted. You made a mistake, but you didn’t make it out of malice. You made it because you were at the age when making mistakes is common.”

“Did you make mistakes as a teenager?”

“Yes,” I say, thinking back to my training. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Like the way you brought me here,” she whispers in my ear, taunting me.

“I needed a distraction, and you provided one. I didn’t make a mistake.”

When Odessa sighs, her warm breath on my neck sends a shock of heat through me. The feeling both invigorates and enrages me. I want to push her away, but my hands can’t reach her.

“My little sister wanted to raise ponies,” Odessa says, caressing my cheek with hers.

I feel her tears against my skin. Her fingers play with my shirt, and I fear she will undress me next. How far will I need to go to gain freedom from the chains?

“Did she have your eyes?” I ask.

Odessa stares at me, and I see more of her returning. She thinks for a moment, struggling to remember. Nodding, she smiles slightly.

“The voices down here will only show you the negative moments of your life,” I explain, gaining her attention. “They won’t let you recall how your parents loved you. Or how your sister enjoyed her life. Or how you suffered for your sin. They will only want you to die, so you can join them. They’re petty and cling to this world rather than moving on.”

“Maybe they can’t move on. Maybe no one in the Lost Highway can move on. We might be trapped here forever.”

“I killed Tom in the kitchen, but his voice doesn’t haunt me. How many trophies died in your room? Did you hear them?”

“Maybe they can’t move on because they died down here,” she says, glancing around the basement’s bloodied walls.

“Or maybe they cling to the suffering of this place in the same way you cling to your sister’s death. It defined them as much as your guilt defines you.”

Odessa stares at me, but her expression is muddled between my words and those in her head. She grips my shirt, searching for an anchor. The electric charge she infected me with still tickles my flesh. I want to break free and shove her away. Instead, I lean forward and press my lips to Odessa’s.