Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
The arm that went around my waist felt like it was pushing all my organs together, like it was crushing the bones beneath.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t scream.
I could barely breathe.
It seemed to go in slow motion as my weight was lifted up and off the ground, leaving me peddling helplessly at the air as my hand tried to claw at his hands, his arms, something, anything that would make him loosen his hold.
But nothing worked as I gasped for air and Kyle just kept walking toward that trunk, sitting open like a welcome sign, like it was waiting to give me a big hug.
“Don’t be thinking about getting any ideas of getting out,” Kyle said as I kicked my legs out against the car, trying to push against it, make Kyle lose his balance and fall. “Guys inside, they told me how to fuck with the safety shit the government makes them put in trunks now.”
Of course they did.
That’s what prisons were great for. Bad guys sharing stories about how to be better at being bad guys.
“I’ll break those fucking legs,” Kyle snarled when I kicked off the car when he tried to push me down into the trunk. “I’d enjoy the fuck out of it, too,” he added, breath warm on my ear, making my stomach twist.
He yanked me back, giving me hope that the forward momentum would let me push harder and knock the both of us backward.
Instead, his other hand grabbed my head to steady it, then slammed me into the lid of the trunk.
Everything was black after that.
When I came to, not much time could have passed, since it seemed like Kyle was just turning the car over. Long enough, though, that I had zip-ties around my wrists and duct tape on my mouth.
A whimper escaped me, muffled against the tape, as I realized that I couldn’t even get to my poison to use it on myself if he was going to keep me bound.
This could not be happening.
I didn’t run away to the middle of nowhere and live alone on a homestead to get away from people only to have someone grab me from that safety I thought I’d created, and turn my life into a fucking horror movie.
I had to get myself out of this.
I couldn’t let myself get hysterical, even if it was warranted.
Being calm and smart would get me much further than getting all in my feelings.
Decision made, I took a couple of deep, slow breaths, feeling my mind start to clear with each exhale until, finally, I felt like I could focus through the fears and ‘what-ifs’ that had been clouding my mind.
There was no use trying to get out of the trunk. If he was bragging about rigging it, then it would just be a waste of precious time and energy.
Taking a deep breath, I rolled off of my hands.
I guess there was one big advantage to having a likely broken wrist that was almost numb it hurt so much.
And that was it couldn’t hurt more, so wiggling it around in the zip tie was easier than with my good wrist.
A sweat beaded up in my hairline as I shimmied and twisted until, finally, I felt it slip out of the hard plastic.
I moved them forward, cradling my hurt one to my chest for a moment, then reaching into my bra with my good one to slip the little glass vial into my palm, closing my hand around it.
I wasn’t going to take it until I was sure I had to.
I was going to make sure I didn’t get a chance to use it on him first.
Wherever he was taking me, it wasn’t far.
Because the car was already slowing, then stopping.
Were we still in Shady Valley?
We had to be.
The next town was at least a few more turns away.
So where the hell were we?
He couldn’t take me to the motel. It was a high-traffic area with the only gas station right across the street.
If he got an apartment, that was also out for the same reason.
What did that leave?
Some of the abandoned buildings in town, sure. Maybe some of them entrances from the back where no one could see from the road.
Other than that, there were just the suburbs.
Even as I thought that, I heard something familiar, yet foreign, a noise I hadn’t heard since I was a kid.
A garage door.
The grinding and groaning of it opening, then the crushing and slamming of it closing.
So the suburbs it was.
Maybe Kyle had found an abandoned house, or one he could rent or something. Times were hard. The real estate market in the area wasn’t great. So if a house was sitting empty for a while, I could see someone renting it out for a little income.
There was a small sense of safety in it being the suburbs, though. If I found an opportunity to get away, I could run to the closest neighbor, make a real fuss, get a lot of attention on me. Someone would save me.