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)
But Logan had a band. Georgie and Deck knew him. He sang in Matt’s bar. It didn’t make sense, and yet ... he stood and watched me being abused. He talked to those men like he knew who they were.
I don’t know how long I cried for. I was bleeding and alone, so hurt and desolate that when the numbness from shock came over me I let it. But it didn’t last.
Anger came, with the hatred for Logan. The shaking stopped, and I sat for hours staring at the small window, most of the time thinking of nothing except the burning hate for Logan—no, Sculpt. Logan no longer existed.
What seemed like days later, but may have only been several hours, the door opened and footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs. I got up and walked up the steps toward Alfonzo, each step agony matched with despair bleeding through my veins. I had nothing to fight with any longer. Logan betrayed me. Matt nor the police were coming for me—no one was.
“Stop.”
I did.
“Put this on.” He passed me a clean T-shirt and jeans then threw a pair of flip-flops at my feet.
I knew asking for privacy was pointless, and it really didn’t matter. My body no longer belonged to me. It had been starved, beaten, and blinded with darkness. The welts on my back and legs still throbbed, and I could feel dried blood where they’d whipped me so hard it ripped open my skin.
I’d never experienced such excruciating pain before; the worst was getting kicked in the ribs by a horse. But this pain wasn’t just physical; it was emotional. Being locked away for hours, waiting for the unknown and praying for someone to save me, while Logan’s cold voice, haunted every waking moment.
I unzipped what was left of my dress and stepped out of it. I could feel his eyes roaming over my naked skin. It was disgusting, and I felt dirty, and I quickly pulled on the jeans then put the T-shirt over my head at the same time as slipping on the sandals that were a few sizes too big. I briefly wondered about the girl who had worn them last.
I was waiting for him to touch me. To throw me down on the floor and kick me or use me, and the slightest movement had me jumping and recoiling.
Without a word he nodded toward a door at the end of a narrow hallway.
When we reached it, he threw it open and shoved me outside, and I stumbled down two steps onto a walkway. As soon as the scent of fresh air wafted into me I stopped and breathed it in. After days of smelling urine, I felt like crying just being given this chance to breathe fresh air.
When I looked around I saw nothing except fields. No one to help. No one to hear my screams. Movement to my left caught my attention, and I saw them ... horses off in the distance. The thrill of freedom beckoned to me, and I knew nothing could stop me.
I ran.
I heard his scuffle of feet as he dove for me then cursed when I slipped through his grasp. He shouted behind me as I kicked off the flip-flops and ran as fast as I could. My legs wobbled, and I stumbled as I raced across the gravel driveway toward the cedar fence. My mind roared with panic, adrenaline keeping me from falling flat on my face.
He was right behind me, swearing and cursing. I could hear his footsteps and knew if he caught me it wouldn’t be good. He was mean ... cruel. It was in his eyes; I knew he would hurt me if he got hold of me again, and that thought pushed me to run faster.
If I could make it to the horses and get on one, ride it to wherever the stable was ... Someone had to be there to help me. Anyone. No way could he catch me on a horse. I could make it. I knew I could.
I felt his heavy breathing on the back of my neck as I dove for the fence. My hand touched the cedar rail, and then I had the wind knocked out of me.
His body trapped me against the fence, hand wrapped in my hair and yanking backward. I screamed out in pain then shot my elbow back, but this time he was ready and ducked to the side.
He retaliated with hooking his arm around my throat so tight I couldn’t breathe. “Not this time, bitch.”
He started walking, dragging me toward the van. I fought, kicking and writhing against his hold, but his locked arm around my throat squeezed harder until I was struggling for each breath. I was about to pass out or die when suddenly he let me go, and I fell to the ground sucking in air.
He slid the side door open on its metal tracks and kicked me hard in the stomach. “Inside.”
I wheezed as I crawled to my feet, struggling to move, but knowing if I didn’t he’d kick me again. He shoved me hard in the small of my back, and I fell forward, abdomen pushing into the metal edge of the van.
As soon as I was all the way inside he slammed the door shut.
There were no windows in the van, and the back door was chained with a heavy padlock. I heard a key turn in the lock of the side door and then the handle being tested. I felt like an animal being shipped for transport. A sharp, gruff laugh emerged from my throat—I was an animal. Actually less than that. A carcass, a piece of dead meat being hung up, cut, tasted, and thrown about.
I bounced around in the back of the van for what I guessed was an hour until I heard the tires slow, and crunch along a gravel road. The van stopped, and the door slid open.
“Out.”
I was huddled in the back corner of the van. Too scared to get out and yet wanting to, but knowing whatever awaited me couldn’t be good either.