Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
But then a boot struck out and landed in the center of her stomach, sending her rolling and knocking one of her dining room chairs over. Frantically she looked up searching for anything she could use to defend herself. She grabbed the lamp next to her couch but before she could hold it upward, it was knocked from her hand and flew against the wall.
Then the intruder kicked her again, sending her sprawling onto her back. Before the pain even sunk in, they were on top of her, sitting on her chest, their knees pinning Hannah's forearms to the floor.
Hannah struggled but then the person's gloved hand reached into their pocket and pulled out a needle and removed the protective tip. Hannah found her voice through the fear then, rising, screaming out for help but the sound didn't carry as she had hoped. But then the needle was in her neck and she saw only darkness.
She struggled toward consciousness later, feeling like she was deep underwater. Everything felt slow and far away. She saw only darkness, felt the confines of a small space. Her body was jostled to and fro and she realized with sudden clarity that she was in the trunk of a car. Her eyes strained against the dark and she saw the emergency pull put into place for children who got stuck. Her hand rose up to it, but her arm felt heavy and numb and she couldn't get her fingers to grab it, slipping off of it again and again uselessly.
Hysteria flooded her system, feeling the car slow down and finally stop. A door open and shut.
Footsteps. And then jiggling of a key in the lock.
The trunk opened and the figure was there again, still concealed by their mask. She tried to scream but her mouth opened and shut with no sound. The person reached again into their pocket, drew out another needle, and she was once again spiraling to nothingness.
Hannah felt the drugs wearing off many hours later. She woke up slowly, hazy and disoriented. There was a soreness in her shoulders and back and she moaned against it, her eyes still closed. There was pain in her stomach where she had been kicked and her scalp twinged. Then there was the sharpness of the glass in her hands, more acute than before and she realized her hands were clutched together.
Her eyes shot open as she realized her hands were tied behind her. Her senses came back all at once, sharper than usual. There was a tightness over her mouth and face, covered with something so she couldn't scream. Duct tape, she assumed. Her legs were sprawled out to one side awkwardly, the hard cement floor cold through her thin cotton pajamas. She pulled them back toward her body, cringing at the pain. There was something round and hard against her back. She tilted her head upward, seeing what she was tied to. A gray support beam. The kind you only find in basements.
Hannah's eyes shot around, taking in the thick concrete walls, the tiny rectangular windows that showed only darkness. There was a staircase to a far corner, the steps steep and irregular. A washer and dryer against one wall. A tool bench on another.
If she could get her arms free and get to the bench, she could find something to defend herself, hide until someone came, and attack. Escape. She had to escape.
By the time someone even noticed she was missing, it could be too late. And even if Elliott noticed her absence, he would probably attribute it to their rift. Her only hope was Tad. Tad knew what was going on. Tad knew about Xander Rhodes. And, she had to face it, Xander was her only chance at being found.
But she couldn't just sit and wait to be discovered. It would probably never happen. She was her only hope.
She pushed her legs up underneath her, leaning heavily onto the support beam. Her legs were waking up from falling asleep, pins and needles, weird pulsing and standing on them required more effort than she was used to. Once standing she arched around the beam, looking down at her hands. Duct tape.
Hannah let out a cry, muffled by the tape across her lips. She could have tried to maneuver her hands to untie knots. Tape was a whole other issue.
She rubbed her wrists up and down against each other, the tape pinching and ripping at her skin as she did so. But loosening. She just needed to get it loose enough to slip out of.
A short time later, feeling more like hours as her skin on her wrists and hands turned raw and tears streamed unabashed down her face from pain, she heard a door upstairs slam shut. Footsteps across the floorboards. Walking down toward the side of the room where the stairs were. And then the door flew open, feet scraping down the steps. Hannah felt her breath getting stuck in her lungs like something heavy was settling on her chest.