Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 107508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Something crawled across the back of my hand, and I stumbled backward shrieking. My spine hit the opposite wall, and I squelched, turning, wrapping my arms around myself as I backed into the middle of the room.
What was happening? Why was I here? Where was Kat? Was she somewhere here too?
I ran up the stairs and started yanking on the door. When it wouldn’t budge, I pounded on it and screamed then threw my body against it until every part of me was bruised.
My white chiffon dress I’d bought especially for watching Logan perform was covered in brown smudges. Two snags ripped the lace right off the front, leaving the silk material beneath exposed. My arms were sore and tender, and my legs had several bruises on them, and I was bleeding from a small cut just above my right knee.
I had no idea who had taken me or why, but everything inside me was screaming to get out.
I staggered back down the stairs, and then, on my hands and knees, began searching the floor for anything to help me escape. I prayed that my purse had been thrown down here with me. Even though I knew whoever was doing this to me wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave my purse with my cell phone in it. But panic surpassed sensibility, and I searched every inch of the floor, my hands sweeping the damp cement, occasionally hearing something scurry away from my movements.
I tried to keep my sanity, but the terror was like a red flag on the beach warning you to not go swimming because of the strong undertow. I was in the undertow, and I couldn’t get out, and it kept pulling me further out to sea.
I was crying full-out now, my chest heaving with each ragged breath. No. Please no. Logan. He’d find me, wouldn’t he? He was looking for me right now. The police ... Did they call the police? Would they look for me? How long had I been gone? God, I didn’t even know what day it was or how long I’d been passed out.
Finding nothing on the floor, I bolted up the stairs and started pounding on the door again.
“Help! Let me out. Help! Oh God. Please! Please let me go.”
I punched the door over and over again until my throat was raw from screaming. When my fists were too sore to hit the wood any longer, I slapped the door with the palms of my hands.
“Please,” I sobbed. “Please let me out of here.”
I fell to my knees, uncontrollable cries racking my body, my hands up against the door, my cheek pressed to it. Fear coursed through my insides, tearing apart my sanity with each breath.
I had no idea how long I stayed curled in a ball on the landing, but it must have been hours as the sun’s rays finally peeked through the window. My throat was so dry that it was as if I’d been sucking on sandpaper all night. My lips stuck together, and when I separated them it tore a thin layer of skin off my bottom lip.
All I wanted was Logan. I needed him to hold me, tell me everything was going to be alright. But hour after hour passed, and he never came. No one did.
I ended up having to pee in the corner of the room, and I never felt so dirty in my life. I felt like an animal, and I sobbed as I did it. It was humiliating, and it made me go crazy again, and I screamed and yanked, pulled, and kicked the door.
Nothing.
Was I going to starve to death? Die forgotten, never to be found?
My fingernails scrapped at the wooden door until splinters stuck in my nail beds. But nothing compared to the torture of the thirst. My mouth tasted like dried vomit, and even trying to swallow was painful.
After hours of scraping at the door I curled into a ball, my fingertips pushed under the thin space beneath the door. The word terrified took on a whole new meaning as I lay there in a whimpering mess. My mind was poisoned with the possibilities of what was going to happen to me. I’d watched Criminal Minds; I knew what people were capable of. But I think what was worse than anything was the fear of the unknown. My kidnapper’s silence was eating away at my sanity as I lay quivering at the top of the stairs.
I don’t know how long it was before the doorknob turned. Maybe a day, could’ve been two. All I saw was the sun rise and fall, but when I fell asleep I was never sure how long I’d been unconscious.
The door opened, and a large shadow cast over me.
I managed to beg one word from my parched lips, “Please.”
The man leaned forward, grabbed me by the arm, and hauled me up.
I couldn’t scream. I merely hung like ragdoll, my limbs feeling numb and weak.
He slapped me on the cheek, and I jerked as pain exploded in my head. I tried to speak, but nothing emerged from my mouth except a croak.
He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of grain then carried me down a hallway. The light blinded me, and for several minutes I was unable to see anything except a bright yellow blurriness. It burned my eyes, and I had to close them until the pain eased.
“Hang her up there.”
I winced as I opened my eyes again, looking up toward where the voice had come from, but it was dark on the other side of the room, and all I saw was the outline of a man standing near the wall. I was placed on my feet, and instantly they gave out, and I crumpled to the cold tiled floor.
I managed a moan while looking up at the man. “Please. Water.”
His broad face was like the front of a Mac truck, flattened nose, wide cheeks and forehead, and beady green eyes. He stared at me for a second, and then a cruel grin appeared just before he raised his foot and kicked me in the ribs.