You hear stories of abduction. You think you know what you would do in this exact same situation—but you really don’t. There is no way for someone on the outside to know what this mentally does to you. You can’t possibly fathom how strong your will to survive can be. The things you once thought were terrible are in actuality more awful than you imagined.
But those things aren’t death.
Here I sit, back against a wall, with this man pawing at me, his bourbon-laced breath making bile rise in my throat—but it is not death… In the reality of terrible, horrible things, you never react the way you wish you would. The truth of this right here is that yes, I can fight him, but I’m a sleep-deprived, terrified, one hundred and twenty-pound girl. I’m locked in a room. No one knows he has me and it would be easy enough for him to just kill me and dump my body in some river if I become too much to handle. This is a level of helplessness the human mind cannot possibly comprehend. You can only feel this void; this worthless and incapable if you are in this situation. And at the end of it, humans are wired to survive at all odds.
So I remain motionless, my eyes closed as tightly as I can manage. Tears seep from my lash line. My throat tightens and I force myself to go down this deep dark hole. I imagine what I would be doing if I were at home: listening to the radio, dancing in my room with my friends. Maybe, if none of this had happened I’d be at a movie with my friend, Meg. And I hope if I lose myself in this imaginary world that was once real, maybe I won’t feel Earl’s rough hands all over me; his lips on my throat.
I struggle when he lifts my shirt up. Out of instinct I fight, and in return, I receive a hard punch in the face. Blood pools in my mouth and I swallow it down. Earl pins my arms to the bed and I cry. I cry hard, because no matter how much I try, I can’t ignore this. It’s not real. This is not real. I clench my thighs together. Earl slips his fingers between them, and I push my legs together harder.
“Don’t make it easy, if ya don’t want to,” he says. “I like it when you fight.” Spit lands on my cheek. “Makes my dick nice and hard. And I like a screamer. I’mma make sure you scream real good like.” He chuckles to himself. “Like it hurts,” he says with a sadistic growl as he rams his knee between my legs and pries them apart.
Please, God. Please… Even my internal voice sounds frightened and desperate. I don’t believe God intervenes in our lives, but at this moment, God is the only hope I have. God, please, please don’t let this man do this. Please let me forget it. Please save me. Or kill me if that is the only way to save me from this, but if they kill me, please make it quick.
The lock clicks. The door bangs open. “Earl!” Max’s voice is filled with rage.
I hear the cord to the light snap when he pulls on it. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell the light just flickered on. A cold breeze wraps around me when Earl’s jerked away. With him off of me, I open my eyes and scream. My shirt’s tucked behind my head, my breasts exposed. My pants are by my ankles.
“Fucking Earl, I told you—” Max’s next communication with him is a fist to the face. Earl staggers, swiping at his busted nose.
“Boy, I’ll beat yer ass.”
Max swings at him again and again, then grabs him by the shoulders and slams him against the cinder block wall. And it’s now that I notice—the door is wide open.
The door is wide fucking open!
I grab my pants and yank them up before I jump off the bed and bolt out of the door. I hear Earl groan. There’s a thud.
“Ava, where you going, darling?” Max shouts.
I plead for my legs to carry me faster up the stairs. I trip not once, but twice. I hear him running after me. He’s on the stairs. I grab for the door and pull, but it won’t budge. I pull again, then push, and when I push, I fall into the kitchen, landing on my knees. My pulse has never raced like this in my life. It’s beating so hard I can’t even breathe. Those dogs come scurrying over, both of them snarling with their ears back. I can see the screen door leading to the outside and I struggle to push myself up, and just as I do, I feel a hand wrap around my ankle. Max yanks me back and my body bangs down several steps.
“Why? Why are you making me do this?” he asks.
“Please. I won’t say anything.” I try to catch my breath. “Please…”
“I can’t.” He groans when he bends and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder and turning around to head back down the steps. “I can’t let you go. Sorry.”
I watch that screen door vanish from view, and I go limp because I can’t fight anymore. His fingers twitch over the backs of my legs as he carries me back into the room where Earl’s slumped over in the corner, blood pouring down his face.
Max throws me onto the bed like a ragdoll then points a finger at me, his expression hard and angry. “Don’t fucking try that shit again, understand, dear?”
I nod and he turns his attention to Earl. He grabs both Earl’s arms and yanks, knocking him over onto the floor. A muffled moan slips through Earl’s busted lip as Max drags him across the dirty ground and out of the room.
“Stay there, you piece of shit,” he says before walking back into the room and locking the door with a key he puts in his pocket. “Now, you see what I just did there, right?”
“Did you kill him?” I ask, because that’s all I can manage. This man saved me from being raped but won’t let me escape. I don’t understand any of it.
“No.” He wipes his hand over his mouth and paces. He’s agitated. Every few seconds he stops and glares at me, then resumes pacing, dragging his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself. “Okay,” he says. “The thing you need to just accept is that you aren’t getting out of here. The sooner you do that, the better off you’ll be. I just saved you. I could have let him fuck you, but I didn’t because it’s not fucking right! That is one thing I won’t fucking tolerate.” He steps toward me, squatting in front of me. I lower my gaze to the ground to avoid looking him in the eyes. “Nope.” He grabs my chin and jerks it up. “You’re gonna look me in the eyes. Got that? Anytime I talk to you, you need to look at me. I need to see your eyes to know you’re hearing me.”
His words are harsh and ugly, but his eyes, his face, his demeanor doesn’t match any of this and it confuses my already warped mind.
“I saved you, didn’t I?” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He nods and releases his hold on my chin. “If you’ll just…” He shakes his head and inhales. “Just stay here and…well, it’ll be okay eventually. I know it’s fucked up to think, but you can trust me, Ava.”
“I’m scared to trust you.” My breath hitches because I have no idea why I said that out loud.
His eyes narrow on mine. His jaw tightens and he stands, pacing again. “You’ve trusted men far worse than me,” he says, anger and hatred flaming behind his black eyes. I know he’s talking about my father. I feel it.
“You don’t know him.”
Max tosses his head back, laughing. “I know all I need to know.” His lips lay flat across his face, and he gives me a stern look. “Do you love him?” he asks. That question catches me off guard. I don’t answer him and he grows agitated. “Do you love him, Ava—your father? It’s a simple question.”
“Yes. Of course.”
He reaches for the door. “Do me a favor, question how you can love him, and maybe you’ll see why you can trust me.”
The door slams shut and I’m left to self-reflect on the fact that, since the day I was born, I have found comfort in the arms of a murderer.
The door closes behind me and I turn, sliding both locks into place. I lean my forearm against the wood, rest my forehead against my arm, and stare at the ground. This is all part of it, as shitty as it is. But the most alarming thing to me is that I feel guilt with her. That woman makes me feel things I shouldn’t, but in life, a good many things that shouldn’t do.
Fuck, this early on and I’m already having issues. I drag in a deep breath and scratch my fingers over the r
ough door as I attempt to gather my thoughts. I swear I can hear her sobbing…or maybe I just think I can. Regardless of her tears, she shouldn’t affect me the way she does, but at the end of the day—I’m a fucking man. She’s a beautiful—no—stunning woman that radiates an air of innocence and rebellion, and I’m not even sure how it’s possible for one person to exude both of those things, but Ava does. I struggle with this as any man would. The key to successfully carrying out my job is viewing these girls as a blank canvas, not a person. And if I’m honest, I don’t know that there is any way to not see her as a person.
Taking one last breath, I push away from the door. Earl’s groaning on the floor as he attempts to get to his knees. If I’m honest, I want to kick him in the back of his head and not stop until his brains are leaking from his ears for doing that to her. It’s a rule that they don’t get raped, but fuck if rules don’t go out the window when this fucker starts drinking. He has little to no self-control.
“What the fuck’d you punch me for, Max?” he groans through several coughs.
“Because you’re a piece of shit. You’re not supposed to touch her.”
“Aw, I weren’t gonna really do nothing. Just give her a good scare.”
I walk over to him and grab him by the back of his shirt, yanking him to his feet before I place my face inches from his. “Don’t even fuck around like that.”
He starts laughing as he tries to steady his wobbly legs. “Act like you ain’t thought about it.” He clicks his mouth like he’s calling a dog. “She’s purdy. Real purdy.”
I glare at him before I slap him the back of his head. “Get the fuck upstairs.” I follow Earl up to the kitchen. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a bottle of Maker’s.
“Y’ant some?” he asks, peeling the red wax from the neck of the bottle.
“No.” I walk to the fridge, open it, and grab a can of Miller Lite. The sound of the beer fizzing when I pop the top settles my nerves a touch, but nothing compares to the relief that unwinds my muscles when that cold brew hits the back of my throat. I pull a chair up to the metal kitchen table and point for Earl to have a seat. “Have you talked to her brother?” I ask.
“Yep. Told him I dumped the body in the Coosa River.” Earl tips the bottle back and I watch the bubbles float up the neck. “We ain’t gonna get caught. He don’t care so long as she’s outta the picture. And you know what I’s thinking ’bout?”
I cast an annoyed look in his direction.
“That if he goes on and kills their folks, well, we ain’t gots to worry much about Frank Donovan.” He laughs.
I take another gulp of beer before slamming the can down on the tabletop. “Guess not.” I stare at the can, tracing my finger against the dark blue lettering.
“Think she’ll take long to break?” he asks. “Got this one guy wants a new girl, she’ll do just right for him.”
“A new girl?”
“Yep. A new girl.” He takes another swig of whiskey.
“What happened to the one he had?” I ask.
Earl shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t care. He’s a paying customer and ain’t no business of mine what the hell he does with them after he pays for ’em.”
Exhaling, I toss my head back. I hate this. I hate every-fucking-thing about this. Something about that girl gives me this unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. Call it intuition, a gut feeling—paranoia. But something very bad will happen as a result of her being here. I do believe that.
“Aw.” Earl sighs. “Come on now, Max. Don’t you got some fancy degree or some shit? What is it, psychic mumbo jumbo?”
My teeth grind against each other at this fucker’s ignorance. “Psychology. I got a degree in psychology when I had fucking ambitions.”
“Yeah, that. You know people’s fucked up in the mind then. People that’s right in the head don’t buy these girls. Just the sick-o’s and perverts.” Earl laughs, his eyes gleaming with something similar to pride because he’s one of those sick-o’s. “People like them, people like us”—he points at himself then at me—“we’re what makes people appreciate the good ’cause they gots to have something bad to compare it with.”
My stomach turns over like a dog playing dead. I don’t want to be one of those people, but the thing is, I’ve been in this game my entire life. Before I could walk, I was desensitized to most shit that would make people lose their damn lunch. I have no empathy, no capacity for it. To me, all this shit, well, it’s normal.
There’s the glug glug glug of Earl tilting that bottle back again, and for some reason, I just want to yank it out of his weathered hands, smash him in the fucking skull with it, and watch him bleed. But I don’t.
“Yep,” he says, hitching his pants back under his gut. “People are fucked up.”
And I sit here in silence, drinking, trying to rationalize the fact that I’m just as fucked up as Earl.
Day 16
The alarm clock on the bedside table goes off. I groan. I curse. I toss and turn, pulling the comforter over my face. And finally, when the damn thing gets so loud I can actually see my pulse in my closed eyelids, I get up. I turn the alarm off. I take a shower, brush my teeth, get dressed. Today is an important day. Today I show her I am kind. I show her I care. In a world where everything is bad, I will make her see me as good. As a god. And as her only fucking hope.
The house is quiet. No one is up yet, except the dogs who are following me around like a shadow. I grab items from the pantry and cabinets, and when I start to cook, both dogs sit on the floor beside the stove, staring at me and wagging their mangy tails. Thirty minutes later, two plates are full of scrambled eggs, biscuits, and bacon. I turn around and a piece of bacon drops to the floor. Rufus snatches it up and Bear nearly knocks me over chasing him through the kitchen to steal it.
“Watch it,” I warn as I open the door to the cellar.
When I reach the door with both plates, I stare at the lock. Well, fucking hell. I didn’t think that through, did I now? I balance one plate on my forearm, nearly dropping it as I unlatch the locks. She’s still asleep when the door swings into the room. I attempt to shut it quietly, but when the lock turns, she jumps up in the bed, dazed. For a moment, the confusion is evident on her face. Her gaze bounces from my face to the plates to the door and around the room. She’s disoriented. And the moment she remembers where she actually is, well, it’s obvious because her entire body sinks.
“Breakfast,” I say as I take a seat on the end of the mattress. I hand the plate to her and she eyes the food. “It’s not poisoned,” I say.
“I don’t care if it is. I have no control here. I know that. If you want me dead, let’s be honest, not much I can do about that.” She grabs the plate and sets it in her lap. I take a forkful of egg and cram it inside my mouth. “Why are you eating with me?” she asks.
I shrug. “Why not?”
She studies me, and it seems she’s attempting to peer into places no one should try to go. We hold a silent and scrutinizing staring contest while we eat. Once she’s finished she sets the plate on the ground and sighs. I place my plate on top of hers and scoot back on the mattress, leaning against the wall. There’s a pipe that’s leaking and the constant drip of water is annoying as fuck.
Her eyes follow my gaze to the pipe. “Annoying, huh?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“Bother you, I guess?”
“Yeah, of course it does.”
“I’ll tape it up then.”
There’s a few minutes of silence again and then she sighs. “Can you at least let me know before you do it? Or before someone’s going to do it? I just want to know, in case I want to pray or something, you know?”
I look at her from the corner of my eye. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s not like you’re just going to let me go, even if you get what you want…whatever that is,” she grumbles.
Closing my eyes, I place my hands behind my head and get more com
fortable in my spot on the mattress. “I don’t want to kill you.”
“But you’re going to.” Her voice has a slight tremor to it now.
“No.”
“Do you know why my brother wanted me dead?”
“No.” I swallow. Fucking Earl must have told her, and I am not willing to go any further with that, so I change the topic. “What size do you wear?”
“What?”
“Clothes. What size clothes? I’m gonna go get some clothes for you.”
She sits silently for a moment. “A six. Medium. Stuff like that. Not that it matters if it fits, you know.”
I reach over, placing my hand on her knee. “I want you as comfortable as possible. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but this has nothing to do with you.”
And in this moment, her expression falls blank. She blinks. Her pupils swell and her eyes trail down to my lips. She swallows and quickly averts her gaze. I see the tiniest crack fissure through her. And as fucking wonderful as that is—I wonder what she’d look like in a soft linen dress, her hair brushed from her face. I wonder what her lips taste like, what her laugh sounds like…she’s too real. Too pure. Too human. I’m afraid I may be breaking, too.
And we mustn’t break together. That would be catastrophic. Without another word, I stand and leave the room. My mind reels as I make my way up the stairs, the old wood creaking under my weight.
I walk through the kitchen, grab the keys to my truck from the counter and my jacket from the back of the old wooden chair. The deadbolt clicks, and I hear Earl’s recliner groan as he sits up to most likely peer around the doorframe.
“Where you going?” Earl calls from the living room.
“To get her clothes. Don’t go trying to fuck with her. I swear to God, I will kill you if you do,” I say. “And she’ll tell me.”
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