Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Let’s go,” he grunts, and even though I’m not trying to fight him, he starts to drag me out of the room.
“Beth,” Sophia says, and I glance over my shoulder to see her crying.
She looks terrified and helpless.
It hits me now, hard in the chest, that there’s a very real chance that I might not come back.
That I might never see her again.
“Don’t worry,” the goon grins just before slamming the door behind us. “It will be your turn next.”
The goon drags me down the hallway and up the dark set of stairs.
My eyes are no longer irritated and this time I have no problem seeing where we’re going. I take everything in, burning it into my memory. If we can get away, if we can get to someone important like Sophia’s father, the information will be invaluable.
Behind the doors, I hear others crying, whimpering. Some of the cries sound like women, but some of them also sound younger…
A sick sense of unease travels down my spine, curling in the pit of my stomach, and lifts all the little hairs across my flesh.
Do they have children here? Locked behind those doors?
I look to the goon, my eyes boring into the back of his head.
What kind of sick fucks are we dealing with?
Up the stairs, he tugs me and then takes a sharp left. I’m led down a dimly lit carpeted hallway and then through another door into what looks like a locker room. The carpet gives way to tile and the air here is moist from a recent shower.
The goon’s grip on my arm relaxes and then he just starts to push me forward with a hand at the small of my back.
“Remove your clothes,” he orders coldly.
I’m given one more push around a tiled corner until I’m face to face with a long row of open showers.
I look to the showers and then back to him. Is he serious?
“Remove your clothes,” he repeats, and crosses his bulging arms over his chest. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
I take a step back, away from him, and my mind races for a way to get out of this. The thought of removing clothes in front of him, of being completely naked and vulnerable, is just too terrifying at the moment.
I’ve never been completely nude in front of a man before, and the clothes on my back are the last shred of dignity I have left.
The goon uncrosses his arms and takes a menacing step toward me.
“No, please,” I hear myself say and immediately hate myself for saying it.
I don’t want to beg. I don’t want to be weak or pathetic. But god dammit, how can he just expect me to strip like it’s nothing?
I take another step back, eyeing my options. I could try to make it past him, make a run for it… Then I see his fingers brush his waist. He’s carrying a gun.
Shit.
If only I had my own weapon, I might have a chance. I glance behind me then side to side, searching for something to use, but there’s only showers, a bench, and lockers.
“I had to help your little friend undress,” he says with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think I have much juice left in me…” He reaches down and adjusts his crotch. “But I’m sure I could find something for you.”
I stare at him, frozen in horror at the implications of what he just said. He undressed Amanda? What else did he do to her?
What will he do to me?
He takes another step forward and I quickly decide I much rather strip naked myself than have his hands on me.
He takes another step and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Wait, no!” I say and start to tug my shirt over my head.
He gives a grunt of approval as I pull my shirt off and then clutch it to my chest. I start to shiver involuntarily as the moist air hits my skin.
“Remove the rest,” he says, his voice sounding gruffer, and crosses his arms over his chest again.
My fingers don’t want to release their clutch on my shirt, but I have to if I don’t want his hands on me. Forcing my fingers to open, I let my shirt drop to the floor then reach down and unbutton my jeans.
I hear him make a sound of appreciation as I have to wiggle to get my jeans over my hips. Bile burns the back of my throat and I consider letting myself get sick. But did that stop him from abusing Amanda? I doubt it.
Straightening, my jeans pool at my feet and I toe my shoes off, stepping out of them. Nearly naked now, I cross my arms over my chest and shiver as I stare at him.
His eyes narrow. “Do you not understand fucking English? I said remove all of it.”