Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60234 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60234 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
I swing a leg over my bike, sinking down onto the rolled leather seat. I let the engine idle, its low hum a soothing backdrop to the commotion in my head. Banger’s face flashes through my mind, an unwelcome reminder of the grim reality.
And then there’s Ace, his words a powerful blend of trust and expectation. Yeah, Banger, I think, tightening my grip on the handlebars. I’ve got your back, come hell or high water.
These demons can go to hell, where they belong.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maggie
Shit, I don’t want to die. I can feel life seeping out of me, but it’s been, what, a day? Two days? At this point, I’m not sure.
I’ve been in and out of consciousness for a long while. I wake up, and it’s light out, and I pass out when it’s dark, but then it’s dark when I come to again. It’s difficult to tell anything except that I’m still alive.
And I hurt like a motherfucker.
I refuse to die inside this god-forsaken warehouse. I refuse to become some stinking, rotting corpse that some construction worker finds in a few years, requiring dental records to identify me.
I grunt and try to turn onto my side. “Son of a bitch!” That pain I thought was gone comes roaring back at a thousand miles an hour, and I freeze. I can’t move. The pain is too intense, and I feel like I might black out. Again.
My hands are dirty and sticky from the dried blood, but I inhale and let it out. I got this. I put my palm against the floor and push up.
“Fuck,” I roar, but I press through the pain until I’m resting on my hip. “Okay, good. Fuck that hurts.”
I fall six or seven times when I try to get up. “Finally,” I grunt. I’ve made it to my feet at the cost of sweat dripping down my forehead.
But I’ll take it, suddenly invigorated with the desire to live despite the shit fucking circumstances that are now my life. I move toward the sunlight that I can see with my one eye that’s barely open. I creep toward the exit.
It takes a while, but I finally feel the heat of the Southern California sun on my skin, and I smile. “Ouch, shit.”
The busted lip doesn’t like me smiling, but I’m alive, finally outside, and it’s not raining. That has to be a good sign, right? Keeping close to the concrete wall to guide my way, and then it takes all of thirty-seven seconds for my hope to fade.
It’s early morning, and the streets are empty right now, which is why I chose this warehouse in the first place, but right now, that makes me a target. This part of Angel Harbor has been going to shit for years. Most of the good jobs are gone now that everyone is remote, and foot traffic is nonexistent.
Well, except for the homeless population.
I can barely see, so I can’t tell if anyone is following or watching me, which is why I move as quickly as my injuries allow.
I walk and walk, the pain in my side trying to take me out, but I have to get help.
Eventually, the deserted buildings turn into actual civilization, and I spot a liquor store, a check cashing place, and a Taco Hut. It’s not impressive, but it’s people, and maybe, hopefully, someone can help me get…somewhere.
Block after block, I stumble, stepping around people on the sidewalks, getting high, or sleeping. But no one looks me in the eye.
I probably wouldn’t look me in the eye either.
“No fucking way.” I stop in the middle of the block, unable to believe my eyes. I see a sign that says ANGEL HARBOR FREE CLINIC.
“Hell yeah,” I whisper and walk toward the sign. I don’t care if it’s an abortion clinic or even a veterinarian; medical help is on the way.
I wrap my fingers around the heavy chrome handle of the door and yank as hard as I can. But the pain is so sharp, so intense, I can’t help myself. I cry out.
“Sorry,” I whisper, hating how vulnerable I sound. “Hello?” It comes out so softly I’m not sure anyone can hear me.
But then, I hear a shuffle, and a female voice sounds close. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Hey,” I grunt. “Is this a real doctor clinic?”
“Yes,” she says as she wraps one arm around me, and the other guides me toward a large counter. “This is a free clinic, and it looks like you can use our help.”
“A free clinic, no shit?”
“No shit,” she shoots back, a smile in her voice. “Let’s get you to an exam room. Can you tell me what happened? I’m Sophie, by the way.”
“Uhm, I don’t have a lot of money, any really.” I don’t tell her about the money tucked into my bra because it’s all I have. It’s my escape plan.