Total pages in book: 9
Estimated words: 8100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 41(@200wpm)___ 32(@250wpm)___ 27(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 8100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 41(@200wpm)___ 32(@250wpm)___ 27(@300wpm)
“What does he want with you?” I ask, concerned as hell for her. I didn’t even believe people really got kidnapped before this, but now I do.
“I don’t know exactly. I have some ideas, but don’t worry, I am going to get us out of here.” I lean up against her and stare off into space.
For five days I’ve had to watch as Aaron Bianchi, the man who kidnapped us, beat the shit out of Brynn. I get to call her Brynn now. I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to my life again after this. I’m a different person now. I could care less about fashionable clothes, dancing, or any of the nonsense things I cared about before this. Today he took Brynn from this room, but I can hear the hits landing on her skin. He’s hit me too, but nothing like he’s hurting her. He’s deranged.
“Hey little girl,” Javier, the foulest-smelling man in the world, taunts me as he comes into the room. I don’t engage. “I’m talking to you, you miserable little cunt.”
“What?” I ask.
“You should be nicer to me. I brought you some food, but you have to do something for me first.”
“Eww… no thanks.” I should have expected the fist to the face, but I didn’t. I am so done with this. He tries to hit me again, but I smash my forehead into his nose.
“You little bitch,” he says, we grapple around, and my cell phone falls out of his pocket. I manage to grab it and turn it on, kicking him in the process. “Give me that back. You’re crazy. I wasn’t going to ask you for anything I shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, right,” I yell, moving back to my area on the floor.
“Arabella?” Brynn asks, as she shakes me awake. I don’t even remember falling asleep.
“Mrs. O? You look like shit. Are you okay?”
“I have asked you to call me Brynn, several times now, haven’t I?” I nod. “This is ridiculous. What happened to your face?”
“Javier slapped me again. I head butted him first though. I managed to find my phone in his pocket while he was down. I turned that bitch on, Brynn.”
“What?”
“I turned my phone on. I didn’t have much service; the walls are probably lined with lead or some other bullshit. I was about to make a call when he got up. That's when he backhanded me. But the phone was on. Someone is looking for that right?”
“Probably my brother, Bart. He’s the tech guy,” she says. She and I have gotten to know each other. What else is there to do between beatings? She told me about her mafia crime family. She really trusts me. I told her I wanted to famous and fall in love. Then she cried. I know she thinks we are going to die in this room, but I have faith that we’ll be rescued.
“Do you think that was enough?” I ask.
“I hope so, Arabella. I really hope so. Good work, but I am sorry about your face.”
“Eh, it’ll heal.”
“I am really impressed with you. You could totally be an asshole teenager right now and I wouldn’t blame you.”
“I could but what would that accomplish? Nothing but trouble, I am sure.”
A little while later, I perk up when I hear shouting. Different shouting from before. Aaron sure was pissed at Javier. I don’t think he’s alive anymore as we heard gun shots a little while ago.
“Brynn!” a voice I don’t recognize shouts.
“In here!” she calls back. “It’s my brother.”
“Really?” I barely ask as the door is kicked in. We jump up from the floor. Brynn goes to a man, her husband I presume.
“Daddy!” I shout and run into his arms as soon as he comes into the room. He sets me back down on the floor and I notice all the men for the first time.
“We are fine. How did you find us?” Brynn says, though “fine” is relative.
“Arabella’s cell phone came on. The idiots didn’t get rid of it,” a gorgeous tall man says, but he can’t stop staring at me. “Are you okay, tiny dancer?” he asks me. I give him my best smile.
“Yes, sir. I am fine. Brynn needs to be checked out though.” I tell him.
“Call me Bart, please. We’ll get you both checked out,” Bart tells me. Brynn’s techie brother is so yum.
“Thank you, Bart. But truly, I am fine. Just cold.” Within seconds, Bart has his blood-stained NYU sweatshirt off and has it pulled down over my head. It smells like his cologne, and I love it. Oh, no. I’m in trouble.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“No problem, tiny dancer.”
We are taken to the hospital in White Plains, about thirty minutes from home. They check me over, but Bart doesn’t leave my side at all.
“Brynn?” I call before walking in the open door of her triage room. Her husband, Brendan, steps to the side so I can see her.