| Chapter 14 “Good bye, Faison,” were the words Lucky spoke as he pulled the trigger in one irrevocable second. In the exact same moment, Faison, desperate to have revenge on his own terms, growled ferociously as he swung around, kicking the gun out of Lucky's hand. The gunshot exploded in the room, rattling everyone in it as they waited to see the outcome. The bullet lodged in the foot board of the ornate wooden bed behind Lucky's head, having just nearly missed its intended target. Lucky's hand spasmed in sheer pain from the kick. The pain acted as an anchor, pulling Lucky from his highly agitated state, back to reality. And, reality was nasty. He had the gun in his hand, but, he realized, he had waited too long to act. He was still alive... He let his head drop back onto the hard wooden floor as if he couldn't bear to hold it up any longer. The gun fell away, skittering across the floor. He began to cry, silent tears pooling from his blank blue eyes. He was completely motionless, lost in his mounting despair. He had failed himself. He had failed Emily. Towering above him, Faison's chest heaved up and down as he fought to regain his breath. He shot the guards a cautioning glare, as if to say that something like this was never to happen again. The men nodded, trying to fade into the background and await instructions, each one being careful not to look directly at their fallen comrade that Lucky had shot. The man still lay, unmoving, but making faint gasping sounds, near the door. Faison rubbed his head, still feeling the stinging from where the chair had made contact. This entire situation had gotten completely out of control. Faison knew he had underestimated Lucky Spencer. He berated himself for doing so, vowing it would never happen again. None of this would. He was going to redeem himself this very day, proving, once and for all, that disobedience was the greatest of sins. He shook his head, smiling sadly. "Lucky, Lucky, Lucky..." he drew the young man's name out, giving it a condemning ring of disappointment. "I thought you were smarter than this...I really did..." "I guess you were wrong..." Lucky muttered, covering his face with his hands. Faison laughed, squatting down beside his young captive. "You do understand that you'll have to be punished, don't you, Lucky? You've completely ruined the understanding I thought we had developed during our previous time together." "The only understanding we had was that I hated your guts and that one day, I was going to kill you!" Lucky blurted out angrily. It occurred to him that he was only digging himself in deeper, but he brushed the thought aside. Faison was going to do what Faison was going to do, regardless of what Lucky said or did. That was just the nature of Faison. Faison poked Lucky in the stomach with his index finger. "Well, you had your chance to kill me today, Young Mr. Spencer and you didn't take it." Faison reached out, picking up the gun from where it landed beside the bed. He held it in his hand, staring at it with interest. "You failed yourself and Emily...you remain prisoners..." "There's always a next time..." Faison smiled confidently. "Not for you." He stood up, holding the gun at his side. He walked over to the guards and conversed with them in low tones Lucky couldn't hear. He felt like he should get off the floor, but his back hurt far too much for him to even thinking about moving if it wasn't absolutely necessary. The crazed Dutchman returned to Lucky. "It's time for you to learn one of the most important lessons of all. Stand up, Lucky!" he ordered harshly. Lucky didn't move. Faison kicked him in the side. Lucky gasped at the wave of pain that floated through him. Faison kicked him again. "I said get up!" "Okay, okay...I'm getting up..." Lucky started to sit up. "Not fast enough," Faison smiled, kicking him again, this time, it landed square in the injured boy's back. "When I tell you to move, I expect you to do so straightway." "Oh..." Lucky groaned, doubling over. He could barely see straight, the floor and the walls seeming to collide together and then slide apart. He held himself in a ball on the floor, waiting until the room settled. Impatiently, Faison reached down, grabbing Lucky's arm and yanking him to his feet. He waved the gun in Lucky's face. "You're upsetting me, Lucky!" he stormed in his foreign lilt. "Do you have any idea how much my head hurts? I could have a concussion from your little stunt." "You'll excuse me if I don't give a damn," Lucky sneered. "You're exactly like your father. You never learn from your mistakes. Do you really think being insolent is going to win you any favor with me?" "I don't want any favor with you!" "Maybe not now..." Faison ran his free hand through his mass of tangled hair. "but very soon you will. Now, there's been quite enough chit chat. It's time to start." Faison signaled to his guards. The two burly men came forward. Lucky could his fear building as one pinned his arms behind his back. His eyes grew wide as the other one bent down and started unfastening his slacks. "Hey! What's going on?" The guard pulled the pants down over the boy's squirming legs. He didn't stop there. He quickly stripped him of his underwear and socks, dropping all of the clothes on to a nearby chair. The guard released Lucky and he and his co-worker retreated back to their corner. Lucky stood in the middle of the room, completely naked and exposed. Goose bumps prickled up on his skin, making the hair on his arms and leg rise. Faison stared at him, clearly amused by having him so vulnerable. The older man made no attempt to hide that he was openly devouring Lucky's body with his probing gaze. "Come to me, Lucky..." he said, his voice soft and full. Lucky was starting to worry, now. It now seemed possible that his punishment was going to be worse than he thought. Any lesson of Faison's that required him to be naked was guaranteed to be less than pleasant. He stood up straight, determined to handle this like a man. Faison could hurt him, but he couldn't break him. He'd maintain his rebellious spirit. He had to. For Emily... He could do this. He forced his feet to walk the short distance to where Faison was standing. He was expecting a beating of some sort. A slap. A punch. A kick. The usual Faison. "Turn around." Faison was smiling, holding the gun in his right hand, glaring at Lucky curiously. "Why?" "Because I said so." Faison could see Lucky tensing, the defiance rising in the boy's eyes. "Does everything have to be a battle, Lucky? Just turn around so I don't have to interrupt Emily's fun and punish her for your defiance." "Emily has nothing to do with this!" "Turn around!" Lucky didn't like the smug look in his captor's eyes. Slowly, he turned around. Immediately, he could feel Faison coming up behind him. He stood so close that Lucky shivered. The man ran the point of the gun gently across the darkening welts on the younger man's back. He moved the gun up, over his shoulder and across the well of his neck where he stopped. He pressed the metal against the tender skin, forcing it into his windpipe until Lucky gagged. He pulled backwards, making the boy stumble back even closer against him. Lucky's entire body went rigid. "What is the point of this, Faison?" "I'm trying to decide how much entertainment you are capable of providing..." Not at all what Lucky wanted to hear... Faison stroked the side of his captive's face with the gun. "You would be so much fun..." he cooed in a seductive whisper, "but we're pressed for time..." The Dutchman grabbed Lucky by his neck, griping him with a tight and unbearable hold, his long hard fingers pressing fiercely. Lucky instinctively tried to pry the fingers from around his neck. "Move!" Faison ordered, marching them both forward, towards the door. "You have things to do..." "What?" Lucky gagged as he struggled for freedom and breath at the same time. "I want to see Emily!" "You'll see her in due time..." They came to the door, stopping in front of the guard Lucky had shot. "I'm sure you remember Bernard..." Faison started to laugh. "I bet you didn't know this, but Bernard’s not quite dead, yet. The guards checked...there's a bullet in his brain but he's not quite dead yet...isn't it miraculous? " There was the smallest bit of hope welling up in Lucky that he wasn't really a murderer. "Please," he coughed out, "get him a doctor...they could save him..." "Listen to you! So worried about him, now...After you've already shot the man. Well, I know how fragile your little conscience is. I wouldn't want you to think you were a murderer..." "You'll get him a doctor?" Faison shot the man three more time in the head. Lucky closed his eyes against the sight. If he could have died with the man, he certainly would have. Bernard "No, Lucky, I'll get him a mortician. MOVE!" He forced Lucky out of the room and started walking swiftly down the corridor, the guards falling in behind them. The grip on his neck hurt almost as much as his back and his side. He couldn't quite manage to get Faison's hand off of his, but he kept trying. He put his focus on trying not to fall as he was inconsiderately hauled through the hallway. Faison wasn't gentle. He purposely held the young man so that he would be rammed into doorways, or nicked by the sharp corners of antique tables. He had no protection, being naked and already sore from other injuries. Finally, they came to a door that looked like it led outside. It was opened and, much to Lucky's great surprise, he was pulled outside, his elbow scraping against the hard wood frame of the door. The sun was out and was warm against his skin. The gentle summer breeze stirred his hair. He was almost giddy to see the outside. It had been almost two days. Much too long... They came out the back door, into a garden, beautiful roses blooming all around them. Lucky had no time to appreciate nature. He was hauled out of the garden and down a hard stone path into a wooded area behind the grand house. Twigs and rocks scraped at his feet and thighs as he was pulled along. He could feel the tinniest bit of blood seeping from a cut on his arm. The canopy of trees blocked out a lot of the sun, making him feel as if the woods had swallowed them all whole. "Ah," Faison said as the entered a clearing, "we have come to our final destination. He tossed Lucky to the ground. He landed on his stomach in the dirt. "You're such a clutz, Lucky Spencer. Falling all over yourself....Get up!!" Faison demanded, clearly enjoying himself. Lucky struggled up to his knees. "What do you want from me?" he asked in a strained voice, spitting dirt out the side of his mouth. "Everything you have, I intend to take," came the immediate and chilling response. "When I'm done, there won't be anything left of you, Lucky. You might be alive, but you won't exist." Lucky's voice was full of conviction as he seethed, "That will never happen! You won't break me! You couldn't before, and you won't now!" Faison slapped him back to the ground, his shoulder length hair swirling around his face, mirroring the fury he relished in releasing. "I want you to be my pet...well-trained and obedient..." Lucky felt like he was going to throw up. The bile was rising, the gag reflex intensifying with each disgusting word that his captor uttered. "Even...even if I can't beat you...my father will. He'll save me and then he will make you pay!!" "I've heard that one before. The old 'Luke Spencer Will Save Me' garbage. When is everyone going to face the facts? Luke Spencer has yet to save anyone. He didn't save Felecia. He didn't save you the first time. And right now, he has no clue where you are. The question you need to ask yourself is if he's even crawled out of the scotch bottle long enough to know that you're missing..." "SHUT UP!!!! My dad knows, and he's going to come for me and Emily." Faison grinned wickedly. "If he does, we'll be waiting." He signaled to one of the guards, who came forward, a long shiny shovel in his hand. He gave it to Faison. "Where did that come from?" Lucky asked, standing. "The shed." Faison drove the shovel into the ground. He brought up a mound of dirt, then tossed it aside. He drove the shovel in again, this time, he left it sticking straight up out of the ground. Turning back to Lucky, he calmly explained, "I have an assignment for you, Young Mr. Spencer. I want you to dig a hole." "A hole?" "A grave." "For Bernard?" Faison began to laugh again in loud shrill whoops. The sound was giving Lucky a headache, and, if he didn't know better, he would have been sure that was the exact reason Faison kept doing it. "Dig the hole, Lucky." Faison turned and began to walk away. "NO!" Faison stopped. He looked Lucky dead in the eye. "I'm leaving the guards here, of course. I have given them orders to make you dig the hole. I don't care what they have to do, just as long as the grave gets dug. I'd advise you to cooperate. There's no way out of this." "Then tell me who the grave is for! Is this your idea of wit? Making me dig my own grave? It's really not funny, especially since I know you're not going to kill me." "Dig, Lucky." "Who's the grave for?" The sickest of grins crossed Faison's face as he softly replied, "Emily." * * * * * "I'm calling the police!" Edward announced, setting his empty snifter on the table. A series of groans went through the Quartermaine living room. "Don't you dare, Edward!" Monica shot off, springing to her feet, poised to tackle him if he made any move toward the phone. "That note said no police or Emily dies. Do you want her death on your conscience?" "I want her home!" he replied, his voice cracking slightly as he slid back into his chair. "I won't just sit around twiddling my thumbs while this Anders fellow does whatever to her...we have to take action!" "Father's right!" Alan agreed. "We have no reason to believe anything this Anders man says. We could bypass the local police and go right to the FBI. There is no way for these people to know that there's even been contact. We'll be very discrete. We'll take precautions." Monica rolled her eyes, feeling her heart sink with every passing moment that her daughter was missing. She just wanted Emily back home where she belonged. If that meant doing nothing, then she would. "NO police of any kind. Not yet, anyway," she said. Alan stood, pulling his wife into his arms. "We're going to get her back, Monica. There is no other choice." Tracy held the note in her hand, a black rose balanced on her lap. From her seat by the terrace door, she watched the scene with disinterest. It wasn't exactly the homecoming she had planned. She was getting no attention at all. Instead, Emily was sucking it up. Not that she was jealous of Emily at the moment. If her hunch was right, the girl was having anything but a good time. She looked over the note again, feeling puzzled by portions. Emily’s real mother is aware of her disappearance and may be able to keep you informed-if you can find her. Emily's real mother? Not Monica. Not Paige Bowen? Who? "Hey," she said, looking up, "Maybe you guys should stop whining and work on figuring out who Emily's real mother is." "Damnit, Tracy," Edward groaned, "What are you doing here?!" "Visiting!" Alan smirked. "What are the chances of you going back where you came from?" Tracy took a sip of sherry. "Slim to none, Brother." "In that case, Tracy has a point," Alan replied with a disbelieving smirk. Him agree with his sister? It made him feel dirty all over. Monica pulled out of her husband's arms. "I am Emily's mother! I don't care what that note says!" "I didn't even know that Emily was adopted..." Lila said. Alan shrugged, saying, "Neither did we. Paige must have hid it very well. I can't imagine why she would go through all the trouble. It didn't really matter." "Unless Emily's biological family didn't want anyone to ever know..." Edward said. "Perhaps it was a stipulation of the adoption." "What's going on in here?" Ned asked, coming into the living room. He hadn't expected to see most of the family assembled. Especially his mother. He avoided her eyes, addressing his question to anyone and everyone but Tracy. "Did something happen?" Alan quickly filled Ned in on the details. Ned looked stunned, immediately filling a snifter of brandy for himself and sitting down on the sofa. "Someone's taken Emily? I can't believe it!" "Well, believe it!" Tracy said. She came over to stare at her son. "Hmmm...you're looking tired Ned. What are you doing with your life?" "I could ask you the same thing, Mother. What has possessed you to come crawling back to town, now. Where's Dillion?" Ned asked wearily. Emily was missing AND he had to deal with his mother. Life just wasn't fair. Tracy smiled, sitting down beside him. "I missed my family. I had been away much too long. So, here I am. Dillion is in school." "In the middle of June?" Tracy looked mildly troubled by Ned's observation. Quickly, her face relaxed, and she replied, "Oh...well, I guess he's at camp, then." Ned turned away in disgust. "How are we going to find Emily if we can't contact the police?" "Tracy thinks," Monica answered, "that we should try to find Emily's biological mother. Obviously, this man knows a lot more than we do. I don't think it would hurt to follow his suggestion. It can only lead us to Emily." Alan nodded in agreement. "Okay, then we need to access to Emily's adoption records. I have a couple of contacts in Arizona that might be able to help..." "I can't believe Emily was adopted by Paige Bowen and we didn't know..." Ned muttered, picking up Ander's letter and re-reading it, hoping to find some clue that might lead them to Emily. Emily’s real mother is aware of her disappearance and may be able to keep you informed-if you can find her. The same passage that had stuck out in Tracy's mind, also hit a bell with her son. Emily's real mother is aware of her disappearance... Hmm... He had to wonder who this person was and why she wouldn't have come to them. Surely she had realized that Emily was a Quartermaine, now. With that name, came all the resources and clout that money could buy. This woman had to know that... Why would she risk her daughter's life by trying to fix this herself when she could have a very rich and powerful family backing her up? Unless she already had a very rich and powerful family backing her up... Ned felt a jolt of electric realization pulse through his body. He leapt to his feet, the letter falling from his hand to the floor in a weak rattle. All conversation stopped as they all turned to Ned. "What?!" Monica cried. "Did you think of something?" Ned nodded slowly, the previous night's events unrolling in his head. The phone ringing in the middle of the night. The crisp feminine voice on the other end, straining to sound professional, but with the slight edge of hysteria to it that others, those who didn't know her the way Ned did, would mistake for impatience. But it hadn't been impatience and she hadn't just called to chat. She'd wanted information. He hadn't seen it then. Had just wanted to get off the phone and go back to sleep. "She called me last night, very late...asking about Emily..." he breathed, his eyes open in shock. "I didn't realize anything was wrong..." Edward stormed across the room. "If you know something, young man, you had darned well better speak up! Emily is on the line!" "Who, Ned?" Monica asked, wringing her hands as silent tears fell down her cheek. "Who called?" "Emily's biological mother..." he replied, looking completely dazed. Tracy stood, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "Ned, honey, why don't you stop beating around the bush and just SAY IT already!" Ned glared angrily at his mother . "Alexis. Alexis Davis." * * * * * After leaving Lucky in the woods, Cesar Faison went back into the house. He rested in his office, quietly smoking an expensive cigar. He related the days events to Anders, taking care to thoroughly explain the next couple of steps. He left his study, running into Helena in the hallway. She placed a hand on his arm to stop him from pushing past. "I want to see Lucky." "He's busy," Faison answered curtly. If it hadn't been for their innate back-stabbing nature, Helena and Faison would have made each other very good friends. They were both smug and vengeful. They enjoyed the same hobbies: maiming, murdering, torturing, and chess. But, as it was, they were wary partners in crime. "Cesar, I intend to see Lucky at once! How else can I revel in torturing Luke if I haven't any proof that Lucky is still alive." "I assure you that he is." "I don't believe you. I heard gun shots." "He's alive, Helena!" "I want to see him!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "And I intend to." Faison threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine! But you'll have to wait in my office until the time is right. Anders will let you know." Helena huffed her displeasure, but nodded, going into the office. He strode off, going quietly into the room he had ordered the guards to take Emily to after her visit with Helena. Inside, he had his fill of touching and caressing his restrained captive. “Get off me,” Emily cried. “Where’s Lucky? Where is he?” Her voice was an octave below total panic. Faison bent down to speak in her ear, his hands stroking her nearly naked body. Emily trembled violently. “Lucky can’t save you today or ever again. He’s dead,” Faison told her. “He killed himself just minutes ago.” Emily froze, her mind drowning in hysterical denial, even while Faison started to have his way with her. This couldn’t be happening. Lucky! Lucky! He wouldn’t kill himself! He wouldn’t leave her! He wouldn’t. Oh God! Lucky! The door crashed open behind them. "This is not what Helena is paying you to do, Father!" Anders busted out, flipping on the lights. "Leave Emily alone!" Faison's hand lingered over the young woman's thigh. "How did a son of mine become so chivalrous?" he sighed. "I'm not in the mood for a confrontation. It seems you've received a reprieve, Miss Quartermaine. But don't think Anders will ride in to save you next time." He stood, winking at his son. He pulled Emily to a sitting position, yanking the blindfold off. Her tear stained and bleary eyes immediately went to Anders. Once again, he had saved her. Faison left. Anders bolted across the room, taking Emily into his arms. "Are you okay?!" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "Did he hurt you? Did he do anything.." "Oh, Anders!" she cried, pressing her face against his firm shoulder. "He told me that Lucky was dead! Is that true...is Lucky really dead?" He pulled her back so he could see her face. Her eyes were wide saucers of terror, the tears freely flowing. "No, Emily, he's not. My father was just trying to make you upset so that it would be easier for him to have his way with you." "He's alive?" "For now..." Anders untied Emily's hands and feet. She stood up, rubbing her wrists. She embraced Anders, loving the feel of his strong protective arms around her. She felt safe for a long slow moment. "Thank you, Anders. Thank you for saving me and telling me the truth." "I...I only wish I could do more..." "What you've done already is more than enough. Oh...I want to see Lucky. Where is he?" Anders turned away. Without any emotion, he said, "I was on my way to see him when I heard your cries." "Please! Take me to him!" "I will...but I'd rather not." "WHY?" Emily demanded, sensing that Anders was in an awkward position, like he was doing something he didn't really want to do. "This is not something you're going to want to see, but your presence is mandatory. Everyone's is. Please, take my hand and allow me to escort you." Hesitantly, Emily took his hand. They walked out of the room. "Is it Lucky? Are you sure he's not dead?" "I'm sure he's not dead...though by the end of the day, he's going to wish he was." * * * * * The sun had gone down, leaving Lucky to dig in the dreary darkness, with only the stars and the full moon to illuminate the task. When he had dug six feet down, he tossed the shovel out of the wide hole. He positively ached all over. There wasn't a muscle in his body that didn't scream in agony. His back had gone numb and he was sure that wasn't a good sign. After hours of torturous physical labor, he could barely stand up. He slid down the dirt wall, hoping that the guards would just look the other way if he went to sleep. If he was really lucky, they'd start filling the hole back up and save him from having to live another day under Faison's thumb. Why shouldn't it be his grave? He dug it! Of course, Faison had said it was for Emily. Lucky didn't believe him, though. Faison was the king of mind games. He just wanted to rattle Lucky, to keep him off balance and coax him into doing something stupid. "What are you doing, Cesar? Really?" Lucky sprang up. Was that Helena's voice he heard? The guards reached down and pulled him out of the hole, tossing him onto the heaping mound of dirt beside it. Helena was startled. She came all the way into the clearing, her snug white and black suit giving her a regal appearance in the silver moonlight. Faison walked behind her, a cigar between his lips. Helena looked at Lucky and smiled. "How lovely to see you again, Lucky. I trust you like your accommodations." Lucky sat up, wondering why he hadn't already seen Helena's fingerprints all over this. Of course she was in on it... "Go to hell, Helena!" he spat out. Helena drew away in disgust. "Are you satisfied now?" Faison asked his employer. "I suppose. Is there a point to this show? Really, why is this boy unclothed and dirty?" "Fade into the back and watch, Darling. I'm about to teach Lucky a very important lesson." His eyes lit as he saw Anders pulling Emily into the clearing. "And here we have our instrument of learning. Emily!" Faison clapped his hands in anticipation. Emily's eyes immediately fell on Lucky. She broke free from Anders and raced to him. Lucky took her into his arms, ignoring the pain. "Emily..." "I was so scared, Lucky. I thought I'd never see you again," she gushed. She pulled back, touching his face. "Are you all right?" "Except for being naked in front of all these people," he whispered into her ear, "yeah, everything's just peachy." "What happened to your clothes?" "Ask Faison..." "Ask me what?" Faison dropped his cigar to the ground, putting it out with his foot. He took the gun from the waistband of his trousers. "Never mind. It's time to start." "Start what?" Emily asked, looking around in confused panic. The clearing was filled with large hulking guards. Off to the side, Anders was looking uncomfortable and edgy. Helena stood beside him. She seemed unaffected by the electricity in the air. Anyone could tell by the tense and pulsing vibe, that something was about to happen. Faison pushed her away from Lucky. She was seized by a guard and restrained. Lucky tried to go to her, but was stopped by the butt of Faison's gun against his chest. "This is your last chance, Lucky," Faison said. "I'm tired of playing games with you. This is your final opportunity to save yourself." "What are you talking about?" Faison flipped the gun around in his hand and cocked the hammer, placing it against Lucky's temple. "Who's in control, here, Lucky?" "Didn't we already do this today?" Faison's hand was steady, his eyes cold. "Who's in control, Lucky," he repeated. "I never thought you'd be so redundant." "Who's in control, Lucky?" Lucky was aware of everyone's eyes on him. He winked at Emily, slyly replying, "Why don't you do everyone a favor, Faison, and go f*** yourself!" "Do you believe this young man?" Faison chuckled. "His head is so thick...I need something to get through to him..." He lifted his chin, waving his gun towards the direction of the open grave. The guard pulled Emily forward, setting her on the edge of the hole. "What the hell are you doing?" Lucky stormed. Faison walked past him, going to stand behind Emily, who had begun to tremble. She said nothing, looking down into the deep dark of the grave. The dirt was soft and crumbly beneath her toes. Faison put the gun to Emily's back. "I am going to kill you, Emily. And when you feel the bullet ripping apart your flesh, when you feel the burn, the sting...you can thank your good friend Lucky Spencer. He thinks only of himself. I told him that you would pay for his defiance. He didn't believe me..." "Do what you have to do, Faison," Emily said bravely, her bottom lip quivering as the gun was forced further into her back. "But you won't turn me against Lucky." "You're willing to die for him?" "I'm willing to die if it will help Lucky. If I'm not here, then you have nothing to hold over his head. You have no leverage. So, yes, I am willing to die to save him." She let herself cry, the sobs tumbling from her lips. "Go ahead." Lucky began to cry too. Emily's words touched him deeply. There was no way he was going to let her die for him. Though he thought Faison was bluffing, he wouldn't take that chance. Not with Emily's life. "STOP!" he cried, rushing over to them. "Don't Faison...don't!" "You've had your chance," Faison said, shoving Lucky away. "You chose to ignore the lesson, so now, Emily must pay." "Don't be stupid, Faison! I'm willing to do whatever you want! Now!! I see what you're trying to do and I'll play along. I'll say whatever you want me to say. Just let Emily go back to the house," Lucky pleaded, swallowing his pride. "Let him do it, Lucky!" Emily shouted through her cries. "Let him! It's the only way you're going to get out of this. There's no way we can both get out of here!" "No Emily!" Lucky tried to touch her shoulder, but a guard pulled his arm back. Turning to Faison, he said, "Just let her go. Whatever you want..." Faison's eyes locked with Lucky's. "Whatever I want?" "Anything." Faison broke eye contact. "Too late." He pushed Emily down into the grave. She went flying forward, her limbs flailing as she hit the dirt floor with a thud. Her head throbbed, as she slowly moved a hand to feel it. She moaned loudly. "EMILY!" Lucky raced forward, but guards dragged him back to where Faison stood. "You bastard!" he yelled. "That's not what I want to hear! You just can't control yourself, can you? " "I can!! Please, just leave Emily alone." "NO!" Faison jumped down into the hole, jerking Emily up by a tangle of hair. She screamed as he forced her face into the dirt wall. He held her neck in a tight grip, using his other hand to stick the barrel of the gun down her throat. He pushed it as far down as it would go. "I'm going to kill you, Emily. Then, I'm going to make Lucky shovel load after load of dirt on top of your lifeless body." "No!! Faison, please, don't do this!" Lucky was in panic. It looked less and less like the Dutch madman wasn't bluffing. In the moonlight, he could see the crazed and determined look in Faison's eyes. The man would scream or laugh, but he was completely calm. He was steady. Lucky could see that this was more than just a game. As Faison held the gun in Emily's mouth, squeezing her neck, he was actually building up his desire to kill, cultivating it, feeding it on Emily and Lucky's fear. With him, killing was like making love. Once he got in the mood, he could go all night. He was ascending to ecstasy, Emily's gagging pulsing through him. The noises were soothing him. Her throat clutched in his hand was empowering him. He knew good and well that Helena wanted her alive, but he didn't give a damn. He was going to kill her. From his position in the hole, he could see Helena's disapproving face and warning glare. Don't was etched in the tight corners of her mouth and her rigid stance. He looked away. He'd do damage control later. His rage was enormous. Lucky Spencer had made a fool out of him. The boy had to pay. No one attacked Cesar Faison or made sharp remarks at his expense. It wasn't done. Lucky needed to know that. Faison pressed Emily's face further into the dirt. He cocked the hammer for the second time. "Faison!!! FAISON!" Lucky yelled, crying hard. He had to save Emily. "YOU'RE IN CONTROL!! ONLY YOU!!!" Faison looked up, the anger still contorting his features into a mask of red and swirling black. "Pardon me?" "YOU'RE IN CONTROL! I've learned lesson number one. I have no power. It's all yours. You can take anything you want...." Faison kept the gun in Emily's mouth. To the guards, he said, "Let him go." They did. On wobbly legs, Lucky walked to the edge of the hole. Tears poured down his cheeks and he was shaking, his entire body spasming with the mixture of physical pain and emotional diress. He was in such a rush to get the words out, that he talked too fast and his words ran together in a gush. "I...I...I learned my lesson, Faison. You have all the power. That's why I'm begging you to spare Emily. Don't punish her. She hasn't done anything wrong. " "But someone has done something wrong, haven't they?" Lucky nodded. "Me! I was wrong. I was...disobedient, insolent, willful, stupid...I'm sorry....please accept my apology!" "No," Faison smiled. "It's too late." "Oh, it's not too late!! I've learned. That's what you want! I have. You taught me! You're in control!!" Lucky's voice was incredibly high pitched, tears rolling and his face turning bright red. "I can be what you want me to be!! But not without Emily...I need her to help me learn better..." Faison took the gun out of Emily's mouth, tossing her to the ground. She writhed, choking and stroking her sore neck. Faison climbed out of the hole, standing before Lucky. "Why should I believe you?" "It's true! It's all true...I'm grateful to you...." "Who's in control?" "YOU!! YOU ARE!!" "Who commands you in all things?" Lucky nodded his head up and down, practically screaming, "YOU, Faison! You command me in all things!" "Get down on your knees before me." Without questioning it, Lucky got down on his knees. Faison exchanged unreadable glances with Helena. "Who do you want to please?" "You..." "Who else?" Faison barked. Lucky searched for an answer. "Helena!" Faison slapped him. "Wrong answer!" "Anders!" "Wrong answer!" Faison pulled him to his feet, only to push him back down onto his knees. "I don't know!" Lucky choked. He covered his face with his hands. "I don't know!" "Me, Lucky, only me." Lucky was rattled and completely confused. All he wanted was to keep Faison away from Emily. "YOU!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "You live to please me." "I live to please you." "You breathe to please me." "I breathe to please you." "Everything you do is to please me." "Every...everything I do is to please you." Faison smiled brilliantly. He slapped Lucky again. "I just slapped you, Lucky. How do you feel about that?" "I feel...I feel..." "WRONG! You don't feel anything without my permission. Because you belong to me, Lucky. You're my pet." Lucky nodded, the sides of reality caving in on him as he kneeled before Faison in the dirt. He had no idea what was going on anymore. All he knew was that Emily was safe. Faison slapped him again with an open palm. "Did you hear me, Lucky?" "Yes...I heard you...I belong to you. I'm your pet." "From now on, will you be good? Will you behave yourself and do as you are told?" "Yes! Always!" "You will learn obedience or Emily will end up in that hole again, Lucky. I will kill her. Do you believe me when I say this to you?" "Yes! I will be obedient. I will please you," Lucky muttered through his sobs. He began to repeat it over and over again, the words coating him in subservience. He fell over onto the ground. He twitched, whispering the words for a few more moments before finally overloading on trauma and passing out, losing himself to the darkness. Faison tucked the gun in the waistband of his pants. "Do you see, Anders? Can you see where the real men are separated from the mangy dogs?" Anders twisted his mouth in appreciation, but remained silent so neither Emily or Lucky would have reason to doubt him later on. Helena arched an eyebrow, tapping her hands together as if to applaud silently. She walked away without once looking back, satisfied that, despite his methods, Faison got results. |