Chapter 5
Five
BLUE
I'm hearing things, and I don't just mean the growl of my stomach. There are things moving outside. Big things among the critters. Sometimes I swear I can hear someone taunting me.
I've cried out for help, albeit not as loud as I could have as my throat is so dry all I can do is croak. The response I think I received sounded a bit like a chuckle. A throaty, masculine laugh that made the chills I already had itch. Itchy goosebumps.
I'd rather be itchy due to a lacy top that isn't actually meant for comfort. Yes, I miss my nice clothes. I worked so hard for them, and here I am dying in a pair of jeans and an extra-large T-shirt.
Dying might be a bit of a stretch. I'm starving, freezing, and my head hurts so bad, but a moment ago I managed to sit up. Every bone in my body creaked and groaned. Or maybe that was my mouth.
I really have no idea. Everything is fuzzy, and the light shining through the walls disorients me. What day is it? I don't feel rested, so I must not have been asleep for that long.
"H-Hello?" I wheeze and cough. Jesus, what's wrong with me?
No response, just birds chittering happily outside. Whether or not it's been days, I do need to actually try to get out of here. No more ignoring the problem.
For real, I've never ignored priorities. Why now? I've hit my head before because of Linda's perverts, but this time it feels like the fight has been knocked out of me.
Or maybe it's years and years of exhaustion catching up to me?
Pathetic.
I flinch, my neck protesting the quick movement. Who said that? My head swims, and vomit crawls up my throat in a fiery wave of nastiness. At least it's warm.
Fuck. Gross. So gross.
I bet it hasn't been more than a few days at most yet here I am already appreciating the heat of my vomit.
Desperation jolts me forward with a gasp. I can't be this. I can't turn into someone who just gives up. As easy as it would be to sink into the hunger pains and woozy headspace that I was accustomed to when I was a child, I have my kid to think about.
Guilt and self-hatred fuel my aching limbs as I crawl my way to the wooden door. How could I let myself lie there in a lazy, sad heap when Violet is probably scared out of her mind?
Flashes of her laughing with the men I've come to care about try to stop my pursuit of freedom. What if they would all be happier without me? Violet has so many people to look out for her now, what does she need me for?
A ball of emotion lodges itself in my throat, and I hang my head. I've got to stop the pity party. There are people counting on me. Hell, I've already let everyone down by allowing myself to be stuck in here.
Reaching to push on the door, I flinch and hiss as sharp pains shoot through my skull. There isn't a handle or even a lock in here—which should be against code if this were on a business property.
I swear if the door was unlocked this whole time. It doesn't budge. I push again and again, even shoving my shoulder against it for good measure, but it doesn't crack a centimeter.
I'm well and truly trapped. Unless...
Glancing around the space, I see nothing but a few pots of dead plants, piles of dirt, and a ridiculous amount of grass seed. Where the hell am I? Doesn't matter.
With a big breath of musty air, I crawl toward the closest pot. My hands protest each drag along the floorboards, but I continue. Not without whispered curse words of course.
This fucking sucks. I grab the dirty ceramic.
"Motherfucking son of a—” Using all my energy, I throw the thing at the door. My heart sinks to my stomach, weighing me down so much that I collapse.
The door barely fucking twitched.
At least I'm still twitching.
As much as I hate myself for the heaviness of my eyelids, I'm incapable of fighting for consciousness. Maybe next time I wake up, I'll have a bit more strength.