Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
My vision flickered as my thoughts turned to the rest of the afternoon.
I recoiled, not ready to pass out again from overload of stress and secrets.
Rubbing my eyes, I sat up. My heart fell to my toes.
I was in a cell. A cube with a sink, kitchenette, toilet, and bed. There were no windows, pictures, or carpet, and only had one way in and out which was undoubtedly locked.
The bright lightbulb above me was harsh and piercing and there lurked a rank scent of fear and vomit.
Where am I?
Standing unsteadily, I made my way to the heavy door and knocked. “Hello?”
I waited for a response.
I continued to wait.
I was more patient that I’d ever been.
Nothing.
Ignoring the splintering headache, I turned to investigate every inch of the small box. I looked under the bed, between the springs and the mattress, even tried the faucets to see if there was anything I could unscrew and use as a weapon.
Just like my knock.
There was nothing.
Then the lights went out, drenching me in darkness.
I stood in the middle of my prison and began to cry.
Morning.
Grasshopper woke me with the scrape of a key and the blissful opening of the door. He carried in a steaming Pop-Tart and some water.
I hadn’t slept at all. My mind didn’t want to fall back into the abys of unconsciousness. Instead, I repeated everything I’d remembered so far.
Corrine.
Buttercup.
Barbeque.
Flames.
I tried to piece them together like a glow in the dark puzzle—only the pieces refused to merge and there was nothing luminescent about them.
I still wore the pink skirt that Kill had pushed up my hips to take me, and the cute grey sweater that hadn’t kept me warm throughout the night. The blankets on the bed smelled of perfume, and I’d thrown up at the thought of the other women spending the night here—waiting for their new fate.
Grasshopper placed the Pop-Tart and glass on the rickety table beside the bed. “You okay?”
I snorted, rubbing my forearms and not making eye contact. “What do you think?”
He growled under his breath. “If you’re hurting a smidgen of what he is, then I’d say you’re hunky-fucking-dory.”
I gritted my teeth and didn’t say a word.
Uncomfortable silence reigned; I made no move to break it. Grasshopper bounced on the ball of his shoes. “Brought you breakfast.”
“Don’t want it.”
“You have to eat.”
“No, I don’t.”
He bent over and captured my chin, making me look at him. His blue eyes were strained, tiny lines feathering around them. “Stop it. Be good and you can come hang with us in the den. You’ve got another night with us before the handover.”
I wrenched my jaw from his hold, breathing hard. “I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to ‘hang’ with trafficking bastards, and I sure as shit don’t want to talk to you.” Hunching my shoulders, I curled into a ball and closed my eyes. “Leave me alone.”
Grasshopper stood over me. The sound of his grinding teeth was the only noise. His nostrils whistled annoyingly as he deliberated doing God knew what. “Remember those three questions I was going to ask you? Back at Kill’s place?”
A stabbing pain spread through my body at his name. I didn’t reply.
He huffed. “Look, give me the answers and I’ll decide if there’s any merit to Kill’s behavior… If not… I’ll speak to him.”
I stiffened, opening my eyes and glaring. “You’re sick, you know that?”
He scowled. “Why am I sick for trying to be nice to you? I don’t have to, you know. I could leave you alone until the sale is done. Let you go fucking mad in here.” He crossed his arms, blue eyes piercing mine. “Unless you’re already mad, of course. Then it won’t matter.”
I sat up, nursing the fire in my belly. “Ask. Then leave me the hell alone.”
What are you doing?
Everything inside screamed for me to clamp my lips together and not play his horrid little game, but there was a small part of me that still hoped for redemption.
Grasshopper swallowed, taking his time to form the first question. “When he took you—did he fuck you doggy-style?”
My mouth fell open. “That’s the most disgusting, prying question I’ve ever—”
“Just fucking answer it. Did he?”
I narrowed my eyes. I refused to answer such an invasive, personal question. Didn’t matter, though, because my silence gave away the answer.
He took me on all fours once. The other times had been different…
Grasshopper sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “He did. Just like he always does with Club whores or any other woman who slithers their way into his bed.”
My heart twisted green with envy, rotting with jealousy for a man who I hated. Who’d kicked me… taken everything from me… who’d burned down my—
It wasn’t him.
I slapped that thought away, but the thread of truth worked its way past my defenses and grabbed a bullhorn so I couldn’t ignore it.