by Kim Faulks
A startled flock of birds shot across the sky. She jumped from the sound. Their calls for freedom sounded joyous and Rachel yearned to look up, to flee with them to somewhere safe.
But there was no saving little Rachel Banks—she’d been forsaken. She closed her eyes while a whimper echoed inside her chest. Please, no more… I can’t take anymore.
“Look at me, Rachel.”
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Go away… just go away.
“I want you to look at what he did to me. Look. At. Me!”
The power of her mother’s demand was too strong. She fought the urge to open her eyes until her head thundered. Every scrape, every clink of the pebbled stones sounded closer. The pull on her resolve was overwhelming.
Rachel lifted her head and opened her eyes. The hair on the nape her neck lifted in response and she felt herself shrink on the inside, pulling away from the hideous sight. Her mother’s broken collarbone punctured her neck like a hideous choker, leaving tiny trails of blood to drip onto her chest. Her mother clawed her way forward.
Each rapid breath ravaged Rachel from the inside, but the pain wouldn’t drag her away from this nightmare. Her fingernails pierced her clammy palms. Her grip on reality was slipping. She swallowed and tasted blood. “Please just leave me alone. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Rachel, honey, are you okay? Come on, please, look away.” Her father tugged at her arm in an attempt to pull her away.
She tore her gaze away, finding his soft brown eyes and pinched brow. Couldn’t he see what was going on? Daddy why can’t you protect me?
The scrape of pebbles tore her attention back to the moving corpse of her dead mother. Her left leg was broken. Half of her lower leg was shattered. She dragged the useless limb underneath her, piercing the ground with the fractured bone in an attempt to get to Rachel. Garbled words and pieces of broken teeth fell from her mother’s mouth.
Part of her already knew the haunting words.
Are you the woman of the house now, Rachel?
She struggled to tear herself away from her mother’s hold, but more than the apparition’s words held her here. The sight of her Mother’s ruptured eye transfixed Rachel. Viscous fluid slid down her face like a sickening tear. The gruesome, weeping image reached for her, moving inexorably closer. Rachel stumbled backwards, treading on her father’s foot in an attempt to escape.
“Get away from me. Please, get away from me!” Her heels slid on the slick stones and she fell. The gravel rattled as her mother dragged herself forward, clawing at the ground.
Warmth spread across the crotch of Rachel’s panties and the smell of her own urine flooded her nose.
“Tell me Rachel, are you the woman of the fucking house!”
The pungent scent of earth mingled with the stench of her waste. She closed her eyes and whimpered. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Just please leave me alone.”
“I’m taking you with me, Rachel. Your bags are packed and they’re in the car. We’re going to be together.”
The scent of dank earth washed over her. The sharp sting of broken bones scraped her neck. She closed her eyes as the old woman’s fingers slid around her throat, squeezing, squeezing. Down into that dark hole and into the coffin, that was where her mother was taking her. There they’d live together… forever.
A cry ripped her from the nightmare and tossed her back in the too-bright room, like discarded waste. Rachel bolted upright, her heart slamming against her chest until her heart ached. Her hands shook as she reached for her neck. The icy grip still lingered on her skin. The thick scent of damp soil filled her, until the stench was chased away by the blinding light of the room.
The rumbling snores to her right sounded too close. Far too close. Her bottom lip trembled. She pierced the flesh with her teeth and drew her knees to her chest as tears threatened to replace the woman with a child once more. No. She swallowed. She was okay, she was safe. The nightmare lingered, but that was all it was. A horrible goddamn dream.
Her mother was gone, long gone. But the sound of her voice called to Rachel, even from her grave. Her body shuddered, the shiver rippling through her flesh all the way to her bones. Dear God, please don’t let that happen again. Please, make her stay away. Don’t make me go back there.
Sleep never came easy to Rachel. The solace of oblivion always seemed to evade her. She reached for the mental anchor and seized on an image of her father. Senator Richard Banks was more than a graduate of the U.S Naval Academy. He was a father—her father. He was a driven man, cold to the point of being cruel sometimes. But he never failed her. He never flinched, even when she’d become pregnant.
Rachel tossed and turned. She could feel the floor bruising her tender flesh as she moved. Her thoughts turned to her child, Bethany. Such a pretty little girl. She reminded Rachel of herself at twelve, with tight curls and an awkward little body. A nerve near the corner of Rachel’s eye jumped. Bethany was always knocking into things. Silly little girl… she was always getting into trouble.
Her fear felt alive, it beat its wings inside her while she tried not to think of them alone. Each breath dropped a weight into her stomach. What were they doing without her? The empty cavern in the center of her chest ached in response. She ground her teeth and inhaled. It’d do no good to let despair win. Not here, not in front of these people.
Rachel turned over, away from them and stared into the light that pierced the cracks in the walls. This… situation felt like forever. How long have we been here, days, weeks? I don’t understand why no one has come for me. They should’ve paid the money by now. They should’ve forced her captors to set her free. What if there was no demand, how would Father find her then? The thought jolted her.
“Dear God. Dear God. Did you see that? Did anyone else see that?”
A woman’s high-pitched cries came from within the glare. Rachel focused in the direction of the sound and the darkened profile of a woman sharpened.
She sat up and followed the woman’s gaze to the doorway of the smaller room. Snores echoed around her. Someone cried out in their sleep. But there was no movement—nothing but the dust that danced in the air. She drew up her leg and pushed off the filthy floor, swaying as she stood. Her hips and back ached. She stilled, swallowing the pain until it eased. “What’s going on?”
Rachel forced her legs to move. They felt heavy as lead, refusing the commands from her mind. Each step was painful and awkward until the muscles eased but Rachel moved toward the woman. Her voice sounded raspy and hoarse and a little too loud in the still room.
The woman jerked and spun toward her and her features sharpened. She was older, homely, one of those New Age women who always seemed to vote goddamn Republican no matter how hard they campaigned.
Rachel’s distaste was like coffee in her veins until her armor slid into place. She could feel her expressionless persona slam shut like metal bars, protecting her from the world—and the world from her.
The woman didn’t answer. She seemed transfixed by the opening to the other room. Each forced exhale from the woman was a whimper. The sound grew louder, stirring the sleeping bodies. Rachel held out her hand, fingers outstretched, and palm up. “It’s okay.”
The woman’s fat fingers fluttered toward her mouth, ready to stifle an impending scream.
“Breathe. Calm down. You’re safe now.”
Rachel grabbed the woman's shaking hands, pulling them against her body. The pain in her legs disappeared as the woman turned toward her. Her brown eyes stretched wide until Rachel feared the corners would split. Did she see our captors?
This thought spurred her on. If she could just see them, talk to them, make them understand… her Father had money, he’d pay. She forced herself to speak, even though her voice shook. “Who was it? Who did you see?”
Rachel watched the muscles in the woman’s throat work like pistons. Her brown irises were swallowed by glistening pupils. Rachel stepped closer and the woman whimper
ed. Talk dammit. Say something! “Please, tell me what you saw?”
“Y-y… you.” The woman stuttered. The blotchy brown marks of old age darkened on her face. Her skin paled to soft pink and then to grey.
She moved forward, until their bodies touched. The woman’s hands nestled protectively against her stomach. “Yes. I what?”
“You're... hurting me.” The woman whimpered.
Rachel looked down at her hands. The woman’s fingers were pale, indented with red, crescent marks from Rachel’s nails. She relaxed her grip and the woman pulled away. “Sorry. I’m trying to help you… I don’t know your name.”
“Dee. My name’s Dee.”
Rachel focused on softening her voice, matching the tone with the mask she would wear. She smiled. “Dee, what was it that made you scream?”
A slow shake of her head told Rachel there was something wrong. Something this woman wasn’t saying. Rachel wasn’t going to let this go. She moved to the side, leaving a clear line of sight to the doorway and heard Dee’s breath catch. The muscles in her neck corded, her head held straight, while her eyes sought out the doorway. Dee opened her mouth to speak and the excitement inside Rachel spiked.
“What’s going on?”
She jolted at the resonant voice behind her and whipped around to stare over her shoulder. A thick chest and scruffy blonde hair threatened her investigation. A snarl fought to escape. She clamped her lips tight and lifted her gaze to meet the biker’s inquisitive, blood-shot eyes before answering. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.
“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly. The name’s Slade.” He extended his hand and squinted at her as though he had trouble focusing. She couldn’t help but shrink away. She’d shaken hands with some vile people in her time. The lower-class had votes her father needed. But animals like this… thug made her skin crawl.
“I’m Dee.”
Rachel could do nothing to stop this leather-clad vermin from pushing his way into their conversation. He glanced around the room. His gaze lingered on the doorway as though he’d overheard their conversation. She turned back to Dee and forced a smile, waiting for this intrusion to disappear.
“You don’t like me much, do you?”
The accusation lingered and there was nowhere she could hide. She tugged at the filthy hem of her shirt, using the slight hesitation to prepare her response. For now, she had to play the game and no one played it better than she did.
Rachel dropped her gaze and forced her voice to tremble slightly. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t like you, I don’t know you. I’m trying to be strong, but I’m… scared and overwhelmed.”
Dee gripped her arm protectively and moved closer. “It’s okay, we’ll get through this. We’ll get through it together.”
Jesus, don’t touch me. Get away from me. Revulsion rode the quakes through her body. The idiot standing in front of her didn’t know what to do. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “I need to be left alone, please.”
His brow furrowed. His dark eyes sparkled with an intensity that excited her. Slade was going to be a challenge, one she welcomed. There was no greater victory than to break a person’s spirit.
He nodded, but made no move to step away. “Sure, no problem.”
Dee let go of her arm. Rachel grabbed her. “Not you, Dee. I need some female company. You understand, don’t you, Slade?”
Anger flashed from his eyes and his nostrils flared. This one didn’t like being manipulated. Rachel couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement as she dealt the first blow. She feigned a smile and arched a brow, waiting for him to leave before she turned back to Dee.
His steps died away behind her. She turned her attention back to finding a way to get out of here. “Okay, now I want you to tell me what you saw, Dee. We’re in this together remember?”
Dee nodded and sucked in a breath. Her voice turned softer, as though she was unsure, scared perhaps, of what she witnessed. “I know this is going to sound crazy. I’m not even sure of what I saw myself.”
“It’s okay, just tell me what you can.”
“Well, I had to, you know....” She leaned closer. “I had to pee, so I went into the other room. I wasn't in there for long. Just enough to….”
“Yes. Go on,” Rachel hissed.
Dee flinched, but kept going. “I’d just walked out of the other room when I heard a noise behind me. I turned and… there was something behind me.”
“What was it?”
“It was a monster… a monster.”
Her words died away and they both stood in silence. Rachel stared at her, trying to work out if the woman was crazy, or an antagonist. She didn’t know this woman. For all she knew, Dee could be working with her captors. Her guard must’ve slipped, allowing a flicker of doubt to break through.
“I know how this sounds. But I’m telling the truth. I didn’t imagine it.”
“What did it look like?”
“It was bigger than any man I’d ever seen. It was naked and filthy.”
Rachel shook her head. The stupid woman had been dreaming. She couldn’t help her get out of here. This was just a waste of time.
“Please, I’m telling the truth.” This time it was Dee who grabbed Rachel’s arm. “It was right there. Right there. I could feel hate radiate from its eyes. Jesus, its eyes… It’s going to come for me. Rachel, please help, it’s coming for us.”
This woman was clearly broken. She’d snapped under the strain of being locked up in here, waiting to be freed or killed. Rachel searched inside herself for sympathy, but found none. She wouldn’t know the feeling.
“Go back and sit down, Dee. It’s okay. The heat has affected you.” Rachel turned her back on the woman and tore her arm from her grasp and found herself back at the beginning. Where are we and why hasn’t Father come for me?
“Everything okay here?”
A man stepped in front of her, blocking the way. Get out of my way. Rachel felt the scathing words on the tip of her tongue. She lifted her gaze to watch the impact of her words as she cut him down, and the words turned to ash in her mouth. Recognition was a blow to the stomach. She suddenly felt disoriented, disconnected as the indistinct recollection eluded her. The need to understand was overwhelming. “Who are you?”
He tilted his head and stared at her. His answer came out slow and controlled as though he filtered his words carefully—just as she did.
“Don’t you know who I am, Rachel? I’m Colton.”
No, she didn’t know who he was. She swallowed and felt her heart speed. The thought of this man having the upper hand didn’t sit well at all. She concentrated on him, trailing her gaze across his hard jaw, perfect skin and cold, dead eyes. “Colton….”
He nodded. “Colton Morris. I work for your Father.”
Hope surged inside her with a jolt. “He sent you here to get me out?”
He shook his head, his brow furrowed, turning his handsome face dangerous. “No, I… I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” she spat. The room around her fell silent. She wrenched her head to the left, catching the others in the room turning to stare at them. She licked her blistered lips and lowered her voice. “Get me out of here, now.”
She caught him glance toward a hooker in a gold dress before he leaned into her and snorted in her ear. “Believe me I want to get out of here just as much as you do. Wherever the fuck here is.”
For some reason, this man near her gave her the creeps. She straightened her spine and pretended to ease a kink out her shoulder, moving back slightly. A smirk stretched his cracked lips and a second later a fresh bead of blood slid from the crest of his lower lip.
Her instinct reared its head, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. This was not a man to be trusted. No, this man was dangerous. “What kind work do you do for my father, exactly?”
He focused deadpan eyes on her, which triggered something inside her to clench in warning. “Stuff.”
>
Rachel had an idea what stuff he did. Though she was smart enough to want to get as far away from him as possible, she was also smart enough to know she had an ally, no matter the danger. His dark eyes twinkled with a knowing look that caused her to shudder. Then he smiled. She knew an opportunity when she saw one, and it seemed, so did he.
COLTON HAD BEEN HEADING TOWARD the smaller room with two of the others when he was motioned aside by Philip, the designated leader of their little group. They’d been searching every surface in the derelict room for anything that could give them a clear indication of what, and who they were dealing with. At first, he expected to find hidden cameras or microphones, but as time dragged, his frustration climbed.
The need to get out of here leaked from his pores, bitter and stale, just like his sweat in this goddamn heat. The walls looked old and brittle. The claw marks were evidence they weren’t indestructible, but after hours of slamming his body into the wood, his shoulders begged to differ. He swallowed each spasm of his muscles and welcomed the pain. There was no way he’d give up. He was too strong and he had too much to live for.
Philip bounced nervously from one foot to another. Colton wondered how and when this so-called leader would crack. By his blistered lips and haunted expression, he hoped it’d be soon—and spectacular. He didn't want to belong to any group. He just wanted to be left alone.
He sought out the woman in the gold dress and when he caught sight of her he felt a pull on his flesh he’d never felt before. He stifled a growl—he wanted to be alone with her. But twelve other people stood in his way, in a room with no doors, no windows, and no fucking way out. Fulfilling his need would just have to wait.
With a nod, Colton motioned for Mark and Jason to start searching the smaller room without him. He rolled his eyes as they glanced from him to Philip, smirking when they left.
“Colton, I want you to set aside an area for the women.” Philip spoke as though this were some cheap and nasty version of Club Med, and he was in charge of the out-house activities.
