Chapter 3 #2
I chewed slowly, forcing myself not to choke. My mouth was still dry despite the water, and every swallow scraped my throat.
As I ate, I made myself think about my situation.
They thought I was Star.
That meant they were the guys who had attacked her in the parking lot of the Social Club.
I swallowed another bite of the sandwich and forced myself to keep thinking.
If these were the same guys who attacked Star, and now they thought they’d kidnapped her…
That meant they wanted to really hurt her or worse.
Except they had me.
I finished the sandwich and licked the salt off my fingers. My stomach settled slightly, the nausea easing enough that I could breathe without feeling like I might throw up.
I opened the chips next and ate a few, mostly for the crunch.
I needed to stay awake.
I couldn’t afford to sleep again. Not with a concussion. Not when they could come in at any moment.
I forced my eyes to stay open even when they burned.
I took stock of the camper again, this time with purpose.
What could I use?
The cabinets were open, but most of what had been inside was scattered across the floor. Broken plastic containers. A roll of duct tape that was half-used with the end stuck to itself. A rusted pair of scissors with one blade bent.
There were a few clothes that were dirty and stained.
The pair of scissors was exactly what I needed. I didn’t think they were super sharp, but with a little work, they might be what I needed to cut the rope on my wrists and ankles.
I flexed my hands slowly, testing circulation. My fingers tingled, but they weren’t numb. That was good.
I lifted my bound wrists and studied the knot.
It was a basic knot. Not fancy. Not something a professional would tie.
The kind of knot someone used when they wanted something secure but didn’t care if it was pretty.
That also told me something.
These guys weren’t clean. They weren’t trained. They weren’t military or cops or anything organized.
They were just… guys.
Angry, stupid guys with masks and violence.
Which meant they could make mistakes. And mistakes were my way out.
I tugged at the rope again, careful not to shred my skin. It didn’t loosen.
I slid off the bed slowly and crawled toward the overturned table where the scissors were. My head swam again, and I paused, breathing through it.
Stay awake. Stay calm.
I managed to grab the scissors but knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I held the scissors between my knees and had to move my wrists up and down on the very dull blade. “Is it too much to ask for them to leave a sharp pair of scissors lying around?” I grumbled.
Nothing at first.
But then, a tiny fray.
Just a few fibers fraying.
My heart kicked.
I kept going.
Rub. Rub. Rub.
The friction burned, and the rope bit deeper into my wrists, but I didn’t stop. I focused on the repetitive motion and the way the fibers slowly began to rip.
It would take time.
Time I didn’t know if I had.
But it was something.
A plan. Plans kept you sane.
I paused when my arms started shaking, breathing hard, and listened again.
Still nothing but birds. The peace outside felt like a slap.
I went back to rubbing the rope.
I zoned out and thought about the club. About my mom and dad. My cousins who weren’t really my cousins but felt like it. They all felt like family. Except for Ender.
He wasn’t loud like some of the other guys. He didn’t posture or show off. He just… watched.
Always watching.
As kids, it used to annoy me.
Not because he was creepy, because he wasn’t, but because he never stared like he was entitled to me. It was more like he tracked everything around me, like his brain ran a constant scan of potential danger.
If a stranger walked too close at a fair, Ender’s body would shift between me and them without him even realizing he’d done it. If a drunk guy got too loud at the bar, Ender’s attention would snap to it instantly, his gaze sharp.
He’d always been like that.
For everyone.
But especially for me.
And I’d told myself it was nothing.
Just club-kid stuff.
We all watched out for each other. We all protected each other. That was how we’d been raised.
But I’d never been able to make myself believe it fully when it came to Ender.
Because Ender didn’t look at me the way he looked at the others.
He didn’t treat me like a sister.
He treated me like… something fragile.
Something that mattered in a different way.
And it had made my crush feel like a secret I shouldn’t have.
Because if I was wrong, if it really was just protective instinct, then my feelings would make it weird. And weird would ruin everything.
I’d rather swallow my feelings than risk losing him.
Not that I ever thought I could have him anyway.
Ender wasn’t the type who fell for the girl who kept her head down. He wasn’t the type who wanted soft.
He was sharp edges. Quiet intensity.
I’d always admired him from a distance.
Always wanted him from a distance.
And now, sitting in this camper with my wrists burning and my head pounding, I realized distance wasn’t helping me right now.
My breath caught.
I pressed the rope harder against the metal edge, grinding it.
More frays appeared. Not enough, but enough to keep me going.
The birds chirped again.
And then, faintly, something else.
A low rumble. An engine?
My blood went cold. I froze with the rope pressed against the bent metal and listened.
The rumble grew louder. Closer.
I held my breath anyway, heart pounding so hard it made my concussion flare.
Maybe it was just someone on a nearby road. Maybe it was them coming back.
I didn’t know.
Not knowing turned everything into a threat.
I forced myself to stop. If they came back, I needed to look like I hadn’t been trying to escape. I needed to look weak. Helpless. Defeated.
I crawled back toward the bed with the scissors, tucked them under the mattress, and sat with my wrists tucked into my lap like I’d given up. It sounded like the engine stopped right outside the camper, and I lay down. Voices sounded. The same ones from before.
Footsteps crunched on gravel close by.
My blood turned to ice.
The world tilted, and nausea surged.
I tucked my wrists into my lap, hiding the frayed rope as best as I could.
The footsteps came closer.
A shadow crossed the thin strips of light at the window, then the door rattled.
My heart slammed so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
The door didn’t open.
It stayed shut.
Whoever was outside paused.
I held my breath.
Then the footsteps moved away again.
I stayed frozen, barely breathing, until the sound disappeared completely and only birds remained.
My lungs burned.
I sucked in a shaky breath and pressed my head against the wall behind me, fighting the dizziness and the urge to cry.
Okay.
Okay.
They were here. Or someone was here.
Maybe checking on me. Maybe just walking around. Maybe making sure I hadn’t escaped.
I needed to move faster.
I wiped at my face with my shoulder, realizing belatedly that tears had slipped out. I hated that. Hated the weakness of it.
I stared at my wrists.
The rope was frayed and loosened slightly. If I kept working at it, I could get out of it.
Then what?
Even if I got free, the door was blocked. The windows were boarded.
I’d still be trapped.
If I could pry a board loose from the window just enough to see out, it would help. I didn’t know what would be waiting for me outside if I did manage to get out, so just knowing what was out there could help.
I could maybe use the scissors to work on the boards.
I lifted my bound hands and stared at the frayed rope.
I forced myself to breathe. I was coming up with a plan, and I was going to get out of here.