CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
FIVE HUNDRED
“Out.”
Before I could make a move on my own, my arm was grabbed and pulled, urging me out of the security of the vehicle.
As it turned out, my driver's bedside manner was about as hospitable as the man in black.
But the man behind the wheel had a taste for grunge and alternative music, and though I was uncomfortable with my head covered and hands cuffed behind my back—overkill, if you asked me—at least the drive had been filled with good tunes.
“Where am I?” I asked, stepping out onto firm ground.
“I'm not answerin' your questions, so don't fuckin' ask them,” he replied in a gravelly, muffled tone. “Turn around.”
Now what? I sighed and did as I had been told, turning on the spot.
My brow furrowed beneath the shroud of the hood over my head as I took in the sounds of my surroundings. Engines revved in the near distance, and horns honked.
Civilization.
“What time is it?” I asked despite his insistence that I keep my inquiries at bay.
His gloved hand grabbed my wrist and wrenched my arms into position roughly. But he answered, “Evening. Little after six. Now, shut the fuck up.”
Huh. We must've been somewhere secluded, far enough away from the general population, for him to feel at all comfortable having a hooded, handcuffed man standing out in the open.
My wrists were jostled as, to my relief, the cuffs were unlocked. Then something was stuffed into the pocket of the pants I was wearing.
“Here's what's gonna happen now,” he said. “You're gonna stand here and count to five hundred while I drive away. If you peek, I'll know, and it's lights out for you—got it?”
I swallowed and nodded hesitantly. “Got it.”
“Don't fuck it up. Five hundred.”
“Five hundred,” I repeated.
“When you're done counting, you can take the hood and blindfold off.”
Relief was coming soon. Anticipation buzzed through my veins as I sucked in a deep breath, my head jittering with a nod.
“Okay. Five hundred,” I said again.
“Start when you hear the car door.”
“Okay.”
And that was it. There was no goodbye as he walked away from where I was, and then came the slamming of his car door.
That was when I began to count.
“One, two, three, four …”
I kept my voice low beneath my breath, muttering the numbers as the vehicle sped away down the road. It seemed ridiculous to stand here, counting, even after I was sure he was gone, but count, I did.
“Three hundred …”
My voice grew more and more hoarse as the moments passed.
An odd coalescence of fear and excitement and dread and giddiness drowned the blood in my veins and strangled the words in my throat.
I was so close—so fucking close—to going home, to seeing Meg, and God, I knew it wasn't going to be easy to transition back into life after the hell I'd endured, but, oh God, I had to try.
I'd come too far to not at least try.
“Four hundred ninety-six,” I gasped with a sob, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides, itching to rip this fucking hood off now. Desperate to throw the blindfold away and burn every inch of my skin, to be rid of the touch of strange men—both evil and …
Well, I wasn't so sure that the guys who'd helped me weren't evil. But I wouldn't be alive if it wasn’t for them, and that had to count for something. Even if all it meant was their corner of Hell wouldn't be as hot.
“F-f-four hundred ninety-seven, four hundred ninety-eight …”
My tongue tripped, and tears streaked down my cheeks. My face was sweaty beneath the hood. I shifted from one foot to the other, eager and desperate, but not wanting to risk a fucking thing by skipping a single number.
“Four hundred ninety-nine.”
Oh God. Oh my fucking God.
“Five … hundred.”
The moment it passed my lips, I tore at the hood, pulling it off with clumsy movements and throwing it to the ground with one hand as the other tugged at the blindfold.
Late day sunlight greeted my eyes, and I squeezed them shut, clapping a hand over them, allowing my vision a moment to adjust bit by bit with the gradual spread of my fingers until I was acclimated to the foreign light of day.
The outside world surrounded me on all sides, simultaneously disorienting and familiar. Lampposts. Sidewalks. Grassy curbs. A fire hydrant. I studied everything with curiosity.
I glanced farther across the street and saw a hotel, then turned around and …
The black iron gates of a cemetery loomed over me, and a hysterical sob burst from my lips with a laugh.
I'd been returned to where I had started, and as unabashed tears streamed down my cheeks, I couldn't have been any happier.
I dug into the pocket the driver had stuffed something into and retrieved a phone—mine.
The screen was broken, but when I held down the power button to turn it on, it lit up with life, and again, I uttered a sound of the sheerest joy.
Where it'd been found, how it'd ended up in the hands of a few masked strangers, I was unlikely to ever know, but, oh God, was I ever grateful as I quickly dialed the number of the first person in my life I needed to talk to.
It rang only once before being answered with a voice I’d thought I'd never hear again.
“Noah?!”
I doubled over, holding myself up with my hand on my knee as I cried, clutching the phone to my ear.
“Noah! Is that—”
Nodding, I squeezed my eyes shut and interrupted in a hoarse whisper, “Yeah, Dad … it's me.”