Lost Boy by Tara Brown Page A

girl is laughing to herself in the cell. She has lost it. I think she's ready. Seeing her that way, confirms it for me.
    On the monitor, Stuart slides closer to the hole with his face and whispers, "Em." I hear a whisper. She doesn’t move. She ignores him. He whispers again, "Em. Did they hurt you?"
    She must have heard it. She moves her head around, confused maybe.
    "Em. Over here." He waves his hand through the hole, not that it matters. She can't see him. She can hear him only. We can only see with the night vision cameras.
    "It's me dude. Stu." His voice is less of a whisper.
    She moves in his direction, dragging her injured body. It makes me sick for a moment, and then I remember the glisten of wetness, and the fact I had to change my pants.
    "Where are you?" she calls into the darkness, totally lost.
    His hand reaches into her cell, brushing against her. I see her respond nervously for a moment and then grip to him, like she did me once. I hate that he's touching her, soothing her.
    "Where's your phone, Em?" Stuart whispers.
    She shakes her head, "I put it down in a parking lot. Are you okay? Are you badly hurt?"
    He shakes his head "They said they want your phone. They need to reach him."
    She sits silent for a second. I smirk as she shakes her head, "That doesn’t make any sense. The man with the faux hawk—his name is Eli. Before he caught me, I texted for help. I think my text went to Eli, like the guy holding us hostage is your boss. I sent it and then heard it deliver at the same moment, to his phone when he was chasing me. I think your boss is Eli."
    I give Jane a satisfied smile back, "She's coherent. She's not just surviving in there, she is strong."
    Jane's eyes burn with annoyance, "We'll see, won't we."
    Stuart sighs loudly, "Well, frig. I don’t know then. Maybe he is the dude. Maybe faux hawk is Uncle Daddy Weirdo. Eli seems like a weak name though. I always imagined he was cooler than a douche in sunglasses, in the dark." He is making sure he sounds defeated and exhausted. Little does she know.
    "I'm sorry." She sounds upset.
    "Em. What did you do that could possibly have made this happen?"
    He is making sure to call her Em, even after I confronted her with not being Emalyn Spicer. Her face seems to flinch at the name now. I point at the screen, "She knows she isn’t Em and she is bothered by it. Memories are moments away."
    Jane snorts, "Where did you get your degree?"
    I ignore her and listen to my girl as she mutters to Stuart, "I'm sorry you're hurt."
    He laughs weakly, "I fight for a living. This ain't nothing. Trust me, I got this. I can take pain like it's nobody's business."
    They stay silent, holding each other.
    I envy him that.
    Jane claps her hands, "Well, it's time then."
    I give her a glare, "This is wrong and you know it. She's close."
    Jane shakes her head, "She isn’t." She looks at Mike, "You dunking for me, big boy."
    I gag a little. I can't imagine what else he dunks for her. Poor guy, has no clue how big of a mistake he has made. Jane only likes broken men she can treat like boys.
    I step into Mike's face, "You want to sit back down."
    He tries his intimidating look but I don’t budge. I don’t need a look to scare him and he knows it. He steps back, "Have fun."
    I leave the room with the guards and head for Stuart's cell. The test to see if she takes the beating for him is huge. She is still sore from the paddle; if she takes this, it's a massive step for her. It means her emotional body is healing. Humans naturally choose to save others. Fear, terror, and abuse make us selfish survivors. Emalyn Spicer is a survivor. I knew that the moment I met her.
    The two guards open the door and grab at Stuart's feet. They drag him slightly but my girl comes alive. She starts to shout instantly, "I'll take it. I'll take the punishment. Don’t hurt him."
    Stuart coughs and weakly says, "Take me." His voice breaks. He is amazing at this. It kept him alive once.
    She slaps the concrete,