Chapter Text
The silence lasts for what feels like hours, maybe even days. Time ceases to exist down there in the pit. Only the heavy thump-thump of her own heart pumping in her chest and the combined, slightly out-of-sync rhythm of their breathing — all of which grows erratic at times before steadying out again, based on outside stimuli or the state of their own internal turmoil — breaks up the muted, monotonous darkness they're trapped in.
"I'm so sorry."
Keith's voice is coarse and harsh as it pierces through the quiet — parched and rough from long hours of disuse, still not recovered from his frantic, petrified screams when he was first brought down into the tunnels. His words come out thick, sluggish. No doubt the swelling on one side of his face makes it even more difficult for him to speak.
"What?" Tess's reply is delayed, dazed even — his take a moment to words register. Once the initial surprise (fear), sparked by the abrupt break in their silent captivity, subsides. Her mind is foggy, her body numb. Distantly, she thinks this is some kind of trauma response, possibly shock, but that awareness doesn't fully sink in. Might not for a while.
(Might not ever.)
More noise now — the sound of movement, cloth dragging heavily over dirt. Hands touch her legs, fingers crawling up towards her own, and they clasp tightly as Keith settles beside her. The weight of his shoulder against hers is a comforting presence in the oppressive darkness of their subterranean prison.
"I'm so sorry, Tess. I should have listened to you. I should have believed you." This time there's a threat of tears in his voice — something broken and defeated.
You should have, part of her wants to cry. You should have trusted me. But I was just being hysterical, just an overly emotional woman, right?
Will it do them any good? Sure, it would probably give her a small thrill of satisfaction, of validation, to get it all off her chest. Just lash out and demand he explain why he didn't believe her, why he had to go see for himself, make him admit that he dismissed her because she's a woman, or she's black, and clearly too emotional. Jumping to conclusions, expecting the worst of people — or at least men.
And afterwards? When there's a fraught silence or Keith mournfully affirms everything she said? They're still trapped down here. Tess gets it all off her chest, and Keith — who probably, based on the way he sounds, already knows how he fucked up and that she was right — might only slip into a deeper downward spiral.
That just leaves them where they are now, scared and trapped and exhausted and starving, except worse off — desolate. Hopelessness is not something they can afford to wallow in if they want to make it. The two of them have to keep level heads. They have to try to keep their morale up.
In some ways, Tess has come out ahead in this hell they're stuck in.
It's an empty consolation.
Keith is suffering more than just the fear and exhaustion and malnourishment. The gash at his temple from where his head met wall hard enough to knock him unconscious continues to plague him. The bruised swelling around the wound and the throbbing pain that Tess knows radiates from it might (currently) be bearable, but they aren't going away. He needs real medical attention. Disinfectant, maybe stitches — not the awkward attempt by their captor to clean him up that has just as likely increased his chances of infection as it offered any actual aid.
At least he hasn't thrown up. (The nausea passed, he'd said, the last time they'd broken up the quiet.) At least their captor hasn't come back in a while to force them into her twisted reality where they are nothing more than fussy infants to be disciplined and fed.
Technically, Tess supposes, they're still trapped in it — it's just that, mercifully, right now is bedtime.
(She's not sure how long it's lasted. At least long enough for them to go through a few stages of shock and grief and come back around to numb (or at least Tess has). Long enough for her to try figuring a way out of here or to reach help while she works to keep Keith conscious — and long enough for each of them to give up on both of those endeavors.
They have no weapons on them — not even keys. Those got left upstairs, which might as well be another planet. Keith's phone is smashed, and Tess' has zero reception. They've tried sending 911 messages out, but it never goes through. Giving up was better for their sanity, so now they reserve the battery life for when they desperately need a little light again.
When the constant dark becomes too much.)
"You should have," she whispers, but her hand squeezes his. "But this…you could never have known this would happen. And it doesn't matter, not right now — apologize to me when we get out of here, okay?" she tells him instead of unloading all of her righteous hurt. There's a stubborn streak in her that refuses to accept this reality as something permanent and inescapable.
Keith lets out a soft noise, his body giving a small, brief shake. Laughter. Probably from disbelief.
That's fair.
"I'm not giving up. Not completely," she adds, and locks the fingers of her right hand through his left. "If you mean it, then please — don't give up either. And if you have to, if holding onto that hope is too much, at least don't ask me to do the same."
The quiet returns for another long stretch. Only their breathing and Tess' own heart beating drowns out the silence. What might be seconds — but is more likely minutes — pass by. Down in the dark, in the hole they've been forced into, it feels like hours again.
"Okay." Keith shatters the silence again. He still sounds like shit, but the defeatism of before is mercifully absent when he adds in a hoarse whisper, "I won't do that to you."
Gratitude blossoms in her chest, and the warmth of it is a comforting feeling. Not quite relief, but still a thousand times better than nothing but the stress and fear, the panic that hovers at the back of her mind. It waits in her spine, ready to seep past the numbness and seize control over her body. That happens, and she knows she'll be rendered frozen — helpless — in this hell she and Keith have been dragged down into.
Tess squeezes Keith's hand again. "Thank you."
Darkness and silence settle back into place, but huddled together, it doesn't feel quite as suffocating.
The creature ("Mother," Tess begins to think of her, starts to refer to her as, though the title is horrific instead of nurturing) seems to possess only a rudimentary understanding of basic needs and functions. A baby herself despite her size, just imitating what she's seen from an instructional VHS that she plays on loop (they can hear it in the distance when their hearts and breathing have mellowed out).
Nothing but a child playing house.
There's a part of Tess that pities her. Can't help but wonder how Mother came to be. Why here? Why all of this? Was she raised down here by someone, something, else? Someone like her? Is she simply parroting what little parenting she received before being left alone here in the dark?
The cages, the grate lid of their pit — the pit itself and these tunnels — all of it had to come from somewhere (someone) else. Somebody brought these things down here, somebody built these tunnels, as insane as and massive an undertaking as that had to be, and it was not the pitiful and temperamental creature holding them captive.
That — that is precisely what has Tess more on edge than Mother and her outbursts. Once the hysterical confusion simmered down, once the fear settled into a constant companion that never left but was no longer screaming and consuming her thoughts, that was the realization that jumped out at her.
Mother is violent but not entirely unpredictable — Tess and Keith have, over the course of their captivity, figured out how to manage her outbursts. They learned quickly how to avoid triggering them for the most part. They work together to keep her placated (as unpleasant as it might be) and so far it's been working.
If there's someone else down here, though, Tess isn't sure what they might be like. Someone more intelligent? Someone human? Someone capable of logic and reason and malice? Even if there's been no sign of anyone else, that doesn't mean there isn't — or there won't be.
She doesn't bring up these concerns with Keith. Truth be told, she thinks she might descend back into hysterics if she even tried.
(Tess had thought her fear when she set foot into this fucking house with a strange man was bad. It has nothing on the terror that hovers at the edges of her thoughts. The panic and despair waiting in her spine, behind her ribs.
Oh, to go back, back to that night — a couple glasses of wine loosening her tongue and relaxing her tense body that had been primed to bolt. Keith's goofy smile setting her at ease despite all the red flags. The optimism of the next morning, before she got back to the fucking house on Barbary Street.)
It's been roughly five days now. Tess knows this because every so often she gives into the frantic compulsion to pull out her cell so that the screen lights up and slices through the pitch black of the hole. Sometimes she tries once more to send out the SOS, but each attempt fails.
Keith sleeps (too much, it's the concussion, Tess is terrified every time he won't wake back up), and most of the time when he sleeps, he dreams. More than once she's had to wake him with her hand already over his mouth so he doesn't draw Mother's attention with his cries.
They've learned that any loud noises, any sign of distress, will draw her to them.
Tess knows she's dozed off a few times, but it's fitful and easily disturbed. Her eyes constantly feel like they're struggling to stay open, except every time she actively tries to get rest ("Please, Tess, you need to sleep at some point," Keith told her yesterday), the horrors refuse to let her drift off. Sleep only comes when she least expects it, and it deserts her as easily as an coward.
Dehydration hasn't kicked in yet. Small blessing there. Mother has kept it at bay, but Tess sometimes wonders if dehydration would be preferable. It's only a deep need to survive that ensures she stomachs the dirty bottle Mother brings them every few hours.
Keith especially struggles not to retch the stuff right back up — the splitting headache he's told her never goes away doesn't do him any favors.
They're still alive, though. And he's been sleeping a little less frequently, becoming a little more more lucid more often.
In fact, it's Keith who finally says, "I can distract her."
Tess blinks a few times, her eyes re-adjusting to the darkness after staring at her phone screen for a couple minutes too long. Even on a dimmer setting, her retinas feel seared, but she'd needed the artificial light for a little longer this time, even as the battery gets closer and closer to the red zone.
Clinging to hope is getting more and more difficult.
"What? No," she protests, the full impact of what he's suggesting hitting her like a sack of bricks. It's so easy to think of all the ways that could go wrong, and every single one ends with one or both of them bloody and broken and dead. "No, that's too risky."
"My head isn't so heavy now, which means I can think a little clearer, move a little faster. I can distract her, and while I do, you get out. Get out, Tess, get to where you have a signal, call 911, call anyone, just get help — and get the fuck away from here."
Even though he can't see her, Tess shakes her head. Tears sting her eyes, burning hot, and she angrily wipes them away while taking a deep, shuddering breath. "No. No, I can't leave you," she tries to insist, but she already knows she's doing this.
They both know this is their chance. This is what they've been waiting for. Wait any longer, they risk neither of them being in any condition to do much of anything. And what happens if Mother grows restless, if she gets bored?
"You told me that you weren't going to give up, and you asked me not to either. This is me, not giving up. I need the same from you now, yeah?"
"Keith…"
Movement, clothes rustling, a body scooting across the ground. Keith's hands find her shoulders, and then her face.
(In the back of her mind, Tess notices how long his fingers are. How nice it feels when they cradle her head. How nice it feels just to be touched by someone else, someone who isn't that wretched, pitiful creature keeping them trapped.)
"You should have just left when I was a stupid asshole who waltzed down into the basement like you were being hysterical," he whispers. The weight of his forehead presses to hers. This close, she can smell the dried blood, the wet wound on his face, his sweat, his breath — frankly she welcomes it, because it means they're still alive. "You waited and then you came for me, and I was so scared and so stubborn that I got us both grabbed — and you have no idea how sorry I am for not listening to you or how much it means to me that you came back. But now? I need you to leave me."
Tess knows he's right, and she hates it. She's scared — for him, for herself — but he's right, and her mind is made up. She wants out. Maybe at least some of this wretched feeling churning in her gut is guilty — because all her protests that came after the first startled response were empty, even if she wanted to mean them.
This is their best shot. Probably their only shot.
She's not dizzy or suffering from blood loss or a concussion. Moving fast and steady will come a lot easier for her — and despite his injury, Keith is still physically stronger than her.
Which means he has a fighting chance if this goes bad. At least that's what she tells herself.
"Okay," she breathes out, shaky and wet. She hates herself for saying it. Hates how easily she gives in. Hates that she knew from the start she's going to go through with this — she will run until she sees the light and then she will run towards it, up the stairs and out the door until she's back in the sun. "I'll get help. I'll come back for you," she promises, for her own conscience as well as his comfort.
Keith trembles, she can feel it from their proximity, and lets out a hushed, nervous laugh. "I know. I know. I still owe you a proper apology, after all."
Tess feels laughter bubbling up in her, now — nervous and spilling out against her will, but there's a comfort in its release. She raises her own hands to touch his cheeks. In a moment of desperation, she leans in, until her lips are on his. She needs this. Human, physical contact — connection — something to soothe her nerves and embolden her in what they're about to do.
Warmth spreads through her when Keith kisses back. He lets out a soft groan, and they sit there, huddled together, allowing themselves to linger in the heat of the moment. There's a reluctance in both of them to break apart — fear trickling in, an uncertainty that feels like ice in Tess' veins — but putting it off any longer will only make it that much harder to push forward.
(A part of her wanted to end up here from the start. Mouth to mouth, hands on each other. Maybe just for fun, or maybe she wanted to prove that there were possibilities outside of Marcus. It's a desperate thing here and now, though. Less of a want and more of a need.)
The loss of Keith's hands on her skin is cold and lonely, and she wonders if he feels the same when she pulls back, when they scoot away from each other, and take a few, steadying breathes.
"I'm ready," she tells him, once the sounds of movement stop, once they're both backed up against opposite sides of their pit.
"Be careful," he whispers — and then screams.
It takes considerable effort to climb out of the pit after Mother comes and snatches Keith, dragging him up into the tunnels. It takes more effort to gather the courage to turn on her cell's flashlight, and ignore the muffled, frightened noises from Keith and the babbling of their captor.
Tess does it, though. Each and every step feels like it could be the wrong move, but she pushes past her uncertainty.
Standing there and fretting over whether this is the right way or not doesn't help. It's nearly impossible to get any sense of direction — the tunnels seem endless, and it's not like she had much chance to explore before being tossed down in the hole with Keith. What she does feel confident in is that, unfortunately, the way out is past the room that spills unsettling, purple-red light into the otherwise uninterrupted dark of the tunnels. The one where sounds of a TV and Keith and Mother are coming from. Meaning she must walk by that open doorway and pray Mother does not hear, does not see.
Whatever relief might be found at reaching the open doorway to that room is flimsy and fleeting when faced with the looming threat of Mother so close. One wrong move, and this whole endeavor is ruined. They might never get another chance if this one doesn't work.
Keith's muffled noises of protest and horror are louder now, and all the more harrowing to hear. That eerie glow of artificial light is so bright after spending so long in the dark with only occasional glimpses of her phone screen — and so much harsher, too. A woman's voice calmly narrates the process of breastfeeding and bonding, and Tess feels equal parts repulsed and pitying.
Who did this to you? she wants to ask Mother, though she suspects the question would make little — if any — sense to their captor.
Somebody brought that television down, installed the red light. These tunnels didn't build themselves, with their wooden frames and metal gates — those holes were dug, the grated lids installed. There are cages, like something for animals, in one area, Tess remembers that when she came down looking for Keith, the wretched, intuitive knowing that something awful happened down here, just like something awful happened in the basement, in the hidden room.
Mother didn't set up that room either, not the bed or bucket or camera, certainly not the Jerry-rigged hidden door. If anything, the bloody handprint might be hers, but Tess has a horrible, sickening certainty that there are a number of victims (women) who could have left that behind.
Awful things happened up there and down here, most likely a lot of awful things happened — and Mother, as violent and frightening as she might be, is not the root cause.
Beyond her pity for Mother and her fear of something or someone worse waiting in the shadows, another part of Tess wants to try to help Keith. There's the chance this goes wrong, that he's too difficult or takes the punishment once that creature realizes that Tess is gone. What then?
Then we both die if I don't get out of here and get help, Tess reminds herself as she reaches the TV room and covers the light on her cell phone. Keeps reminding herself of it when she glances in and sees Keith with his mouth forced to Mother's nipple, all his protests muffled by her filthy flesh (he doesn't struggle much though, doesn't try to twist his head away, and Tess feels her gut clench painfully). Once more while she quietly slips on by.
Get out, get help. Get out, get help.
Over and over now, that is all she lets herself think while pressing onward. Repeats it with a little more pep when she reaches a couple of open metal grates that are vaguely familiar, takes a turn and at last sees the stairs ahead of her, the light filtering through from the hidden hallway. Hope explodes in her chest and Tess finally runs. Climbs the stairs on hands and feet until she's emerging from the underground, racing into the basement proper — the door is still propped open, she's almost home free.
The moment she sets foot on the basement steps is the moment she hears the primal cry of Mother. Panic ignites in her spine where it's been waiting (Keith, does that mean — no, it doesn't matter, run) but blessedly her flight mode kicks in instead of freeze.
Tess races up and out of that godforsaken house. It isn't until she's in the middle of the road and looks back to see Mother forlornly watching from the basement window, as though trapped by an invisible barrier, that Tess allows herself to finally come to a stop. The sudden surge of adrenaline crashes as fast as it came, and she falls to her knees, staring back at the creature — the woman, maybe something more, or less, she's not sure.
"Please, don't hurt him," Tess whispers, though she doubts Mother hears her words — even if she did, Tess knows that they would mean nothing to her.
Mother retreats into the darkness.
Tess finally reaches 911.