Chapter Fifty-Two
Emily
I wake up on a cold concrete floor, surrounded by windowless cracked concrete walls, with only a bare bulb hanging far overhead for light. A tiny vent in the ceiling lets in a trickle of air, but it does nothing to cut the smell. There’s a drain in the floor, covered by a steel grate crusted over with dark brown scum, and from it wafts an aroma that tells me that maybe this place used to be part of a butchery… or is part of an active sewer.
My head throbs as I push myself to a sitting position, and memories flood back — shooting Diesel, the break-up with Hunter, Charlie’s frantic crying, and then… Jay; his leering face, the exultant menace in his voice, the sensation of his hands on me as he dragged me into that waiting car. It all became a blur from that point, and the wooziness in my head which feels like it’s been stuffed with gauze soaked in formaldehyde. I gag as a bubble erupts from the floor drain and fills the air with a malignant stench. The act of making any sound makes my brain pulse in pain.
Drugged, kidnapped, imprisoned by my ex-boyfriend in a weird, stinky room — what a terrible way to die.
That realization settles over me with surprising ease. I’m so low, so beaten, that I just take it on like I’m sliding on a comfortable coat; this is how I die.
I sit down on the cold and dirty floor and look at the empty wall, wondering just when and how it’s going to happen. Gun? Maybe. Knife? More likely, Jay would really want to make it hurt. But I think the most likely way of all that he’ll kill me is with his bare hands. He hates me too much to use any tool that could make it even remotely quick.
I’m not kept wondering for long. There’s a metallic click, and then the door on the wall opens. As it opens, I see a unit of shelving almost directly in the doorway, as if placed there to keep the door concealed. Then I see Jay. He’s unarmed, grinning, and he looks at me like it’s only a short matter of time.
“Hey, Emily,” he says.
There’s laughter in his voice.
I don’t know if it’s his tone, his smile, or just his face, but something in me snaps as soon as he appears. Maybe I am going to die, but I can at least hurt him. He’s brought so much pain on me, cost me my relationship with Hunter and Charlie, ruined my future, and done everything one can to destroy someone’s life.
Fuck. Him .
With a scream, I launch myself at him. Fingers curled like claws, I scratch at his face and kick and howl like a rabid dog.
His eyes flash wide in surprise. Jay stumbles backward, his hands flying up to protect his face. I catch him off guard, my nails raking across his cheek and drawing blood. The sight of it fuels my rage even more. I continue my assault, clawing and kicking with every ounce of strength I can muster.
"You bitch!" he snarls, grabbing my wrists and trying to push me away.
But I'm beyond reason now, beyond fear. I twist in his grip, biting down hard on his forearm. He yells in pain and loosens his hold just enough for me to wrench free. I slam my knee upward, aiming for his groin, but he twists at the last second and I catch his thigh instead.
Jay's face contorts with fury. He lunges forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. The pain is excruciating, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out. Instead, I spit in his face.
"I'll fucking kill you," he hisses, his eyes wild with rage.
"Do it then," I snarl back. "Because if you don't, I swear I'll end you."
“Not yet.” He punctuates his words with a heavy punch that crumples me to the floor and makes me moan in agony. A kick follows that, hitting me right in the ribs, forcing the air and fight right from my chest. “Not yet.”
I moan and writhe on the ground, and for a time, Jay leaves me there like some wounded animal. Then he grabs me by the hair and pulls, forcing me to scramble and make my battered body stand. The second I reach my feet, he wraps a hand around my throat. Not too tight — I can still breathe — but tight enough that one squeeze will make me see stars.
“I’m not going to kill you yet, Emily.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, and he laughs. “Someone will come looking for me.”
His laughter grows, and his grip tightens. For a time, all I can do is stand there, struggling to breathe while he mocks me.
“No one is going to look for you. Not for a long time.”
“Hunter…”
“From what I heard coming from your apartment, he doesn’t give a shit about you.”
“Maggie will—”
Jay tuts his tongue. “I had a friend go by the pharmacy. They found out that you’re off for a few days so you can finish that paper of yours. Which means your friends know that, too. They all think that you’re holed up in your apartment, chained to your desk to finish that paper. And your legal problems, that thing that, if you missed it, would cause the police to come looking for you? Well, that’s gone, too. No one is going to come looking for you. You’re nothing right now. You’re nothing and you have no one, Emily. No one.”
A painful squeeze envelops my heart at each word that drips from Jay’s cruel mouth. He’s right — Hunter doesn’t give a shit about me, and my friends think I’m busy — I have no one.
No one who’s going to look for me.
No one.
I’m alone, and I’m going to die alone.
The one person who might’ve come looking for me, the man I used to love and maybe still do, can’t get far enough away from me because of my foolish mistakes. My choices. My decisions. I made this nightmare happen.
Tears leak from my eyes. A few drops at first, but then Jay loosens his grip on my throat — such a kind gesture — and suddenly I have the breathing room to truly sob.
Jay's smile widens as he watches me break down. He releases my throat entirely, and I collapse to my knees, my body wracked with sobs. The concrete floor is cold and unforgiving against my skin, but I barely notice. All I can feel is the crushing weight of despair.
"That's right, Em," Jay croons, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Let it all out. No one's coming for you. No one cares."
His words twist the knife deeper, and I curl into myself, trying to make my body as small as possible. I want to disappear, to fade away into nothingness. Anything would be better than this hellish reality.
Jay's smile widens as he watches me break down. He releases my throat entirely, and I collapse to my knees, my body wracked with sobs. The concrete floor is cold and unforgiving against my skin, but I barely notice. All I can feel is the crushing weight of despair.
"That's right, Em," Jay croons, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Let it all out. No one's coming for you. No one cares."
“Why don’t you just kill me now?” I gasp.
“Like I said: it’s not time, yet. Your paper isn’t due for a little over a day. I want to keep you until then, so that the final deadline can pass you by and you can feel that failure and know that your dream is dead. In every way, you will die alone and a failure.”
His words twist the knife deeper, and I curl into myself, trying to make my body as small as possible. I want to disappear, to fade away into nothingness. Anything would be better than this hellish reality. My tears puddle on the floor. Then that puddle forms a tiny trickle of a river that gradually works its way through the slanted cracks in the concrete floor to find its way to the drain.
“Oh, you look so beautiful right now. Please, smile for the camera. I want to get your face on tape,” he laughs and gestures to a small glass lens set in the ceiling.
I don’t answer. I can’t without sobbing. Instead, I curl away from him and keep my weepy eyes on the floor.
His hand strokes my hair, and I flinch away from his touch. Even in my despair, my body recoils from him. He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so I'm forced to look at him.
His eyes gleam with a mixture of triumph and something darker, more primal, more evil. "I’m going to give you a minute alone to cry this bitchiness out. But then, you and me, we've got so much to catch up on.”