Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Let me out, you piece of shit!” The scream dies on my lips as the music is turned up louder. And before I can stop myself, I feel the tears welling my eyes.
Why did it take me so long to leave? Yes, it was fear for my sister and the need to protect her. But who is protecting me?
Why am I always the last thought in everyone else’s life?
When will someone put me first?
I want to be first in so many ways.
Yet here I am, last again.
Crying, tied to a bed that I haven’t slept in for over two years, and held prisoner by my husband.
My fucked-up, drugged-up husband.
I don’t know what time it is.
I’ve been stuck in the same position, unable to move, and in and out of sleep. The last thing I want to do is sleep, but my eyes are so heavy I’ve been dozing off and waking with a start. The music has finally died off, and I don’t hear anyone around.
I call Cody’s name at least three times and get nothing in response. My wrists are aching. My body keeps cramping from being stuck in the same position for so long, and I’m not even going to mention how full my bladder is. I’m not sure what else I can do because no one would care if I went missing. Would it matter to anyone? Yes, my sister would be upset, but she will go on with her life. The only person I’ve really had since my mother passed away is Cody, and he knows that and has used it to his every single advantage.
Closing my eyes, I try to think of ways to get out of this. Should I sweet-talk him and tell him everything will be okay? Is that my only hope?
If I have to, I will, but I have a feeling he won’t believe anything I say.
The door creaks open, and I swing my head toward it, thinking Cody has come back, but I see a glimpse of blond hair. Is she one of the women who’s usually here? To be honest, I don’t pay attention to the women he brings home. After the first few times, it became a regular occurrence, and my care factor has nosed to nothing.
She steps in and shuts the door behind her, bringing her finger to her mouth and telling me to be quiet. I don’t make a sound. I simply watch as she creeps, ever so slowly, to the head of the bed. I can smell she’s been drinking, and her eyes are glassy. With shaky hands, she starts to undo the rope tying my wrists to the bed, and I crane my neck to watch her. The woman struggles at first, but she stays quiet, and I’m hoping and praying that she gets it undone.
The second my first hand is free, a sense of relief washes through me. She steps away and moves around to the other side of the bed, then starts to untie the other hand, which goes a lot faster. Immediately, I sit up when the rope falls away—my body screaming at me in pain. She steps back and offers me a small smile.
“I’m friends with Letti, and she asked if I had seen you,” she whispers.
Letti. I see her often at Milo’s compound but hardly talk to her.
“Thank you,” I whisper and swing my legs off the bed. They are sore and shaky, but I have to take this opportunity. She nods to the window, and I turn to it.
“Cody’s asleep. I’ve been waiting for him to pass out. I’m going to go back out there and go to sleep. Please be quiet,” she says.
“What’s your name?” I ask. Her smile is sad, and she shakes her head.
“You don’t—”
“Please. What’s your name?”
Her lipstick is smudged on her lips, and her eyes are full of worry as she pins me with them. At first, I don’t think she’ll answer, but then…
“Marie.” She looks back over her shoulder and turns to open the door. I wait until it’s shut and hurry to the window. I don’t even think about going to my room to get anything. Pushing open the window, the cold morning breeze hits my skin. It stings my wrists, but I don’t care. I will not stay in this room a second longer than necessary. Climbing out, I don’t shut the window. I just run. Down the street and away from that house.
I have absolutely no idea where I’m going to go or how I’m going to get there, but I know for a fact that I’m not turning back and going into that house so he can do the exact same thing to me again.
My legs eventually get tired, and I have to slow down. I’ve managed to get a few streets away from him, heading toward the center of town, when I hear my name being called.