Feathers

13. Nightmare Reality

Gretchen was sitting in the middle of the kitchen, strapped to a wooden chair with the belt from her kimono.

A tall, muscular man with a shaved head wearing a stained white t-shirt and baggy jeans stood behind her, with a large knife pressed against her throat. The infamous Dean. Michael felt a surge of vitriol rise up in him. Momentarily he considered lunging at him, grabbing the bastard's knife and using it against him.

"So this is the piece of shit that stole you" Dean spat the words at Kobie.

Michael calculated that he could reach the chair in two strides. Grab the hand holding the knife and twist the blade back on Dean. If he did it all in one smooth motion he could use the momentum of his body leaping across the room to drive the knife back into Dean's chest.

"Nobody stole me. It was never going to work with us, Dean." Kobie was breathing deeply, slowly. She seemed to be trying to steady herself. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the bench next to the fridge.

Michael ran through his plan again in his head and then internally kicked himself. What was he thinking? He couldn't murder someone. Then he'd be just as bad as Dean. Worse. Also, he wasn't an athlete. He sat in an office all day. Even if he could get to Dean before he realised and grab his wrist, he probably couldn't overpower him. The guy looked way stronger than him. If he wasn't in a life-threatening emergency he would probably feel a bit insecure about that. But now wasn't the time to be comparing muscles. At least he'd never held someone at knifepoint. He definitely had that going for him.

Michael ignored Dean and instead tried to make eye contact with Gretchen. He was struggling because Gretchen was squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She was pulling her head back away from the knife. Mascara stained tears ran down her face.

"Are you okay Gretch?" Michael said, trying to keep his voice calm, to sound as soothing as possible.

Gretchen slowly opened her eyes, just a crack.

"I've been better" she croaked.

Michael tried to smile reassuringly at her and watched as she tried to smile in return, but only managed a close-lipped smirk. before her lips trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut again. A fresh river of tears streamed down her face. She was holding herself together though, crying quietly, not moving at all.

"Let her go," Kobie said gently, "I'm here now, we can talk. You don't need her. You don't need to hurt anybody."

"Oh right. No one gets hurt. Unless they're Dean."

"No one's going to hurt you mate," Michael said.

"SHE ALREADY DID." Dean roared.

His muscles twitched as he screamed causing Gretchen to flinch. The knife against her neck drew a thin line of blood and she made a high pitched yelping sound.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." Dean screamed.

He was screaming so loudly, surely someone was going to hear and call the police. Then Michael's heart sank as he remembered how well insulated the old brick building was. Gretchen played music at deafening volumes in the early hours of the morning and never got noise complaints. Not even from their crazy neighbour who was petitioning for security cameras to be installed.

Michael had to do something. He tried to look surreptitiously at Kobie, but she didn't seem to be doing too well. He could feel her hand shaking in his. He tried to loosen his hand, to let hers go for a moment. He didn't want to set off Dean any more and was thinking that if he could raise both hands up in a gesture of surrender he might be able to carefully walk a bit closer towards them, maybe sit at the dining table nearby, to give Gretchen more support. But as he pulled away, Kobie squeezed his hand even tighter.