Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kylie
I was dying.
That was the only way to explain what was happening. It hurt to move, to breathe. Hell, it hurt to open my eyes most of the time.
I spent a good portion of my time praying.
Well, praying or begging—at one point, they became one and the same.
I just wanted God to get me out of there, to let me see my family again.
At one point, I even asked Him to strike Martin Calloway down with a bolt of lightning.
Right or wrong, I just wanted out of this hellhole.
But God wasn’t listening. Day after day, Martin never came back. Not since he made threats against my family. I had even attempted to speak to the camera, to summon him back so I could tell him whatever he wanted to hear. But he never showed.
And now I was over it. Martin Calloway could go fuck himself because I was dying.
The heat, the infection, and lack of nutrition had taken their toll.
Since his last visit, Martin had started restricting the amount of water I would get.
At least I assumed he was the one who’d given the order.
I only got one protein bar every other day.
It didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t hungry.
I wasn’t thirsty. My body was shutting down, and somehow my brain knew that no amount of scarfing down shitty protein bars was going to get me healthy again.
I wasn’t going to last much longer. I was on the verge of death. I had to be.
I exhaled harshly. I did not want to think about dying in this shit hole.
I wanted to live, if for no other reason than to kill Martin.
No one threatened my family, dammit. I just had to hang on a little bit longer.
Another minute, another hour, another day.
At some point, something would happen, and I would get the opportunity to fight my way out.
Except fighting was something that only happened in my nightmares. I was no longer capable of sitting up. I felt like someone had beaten me with a meat cleaver over and over. Every bone, every muscle, every fiber of my being hurt.
I was dying. Had to be.
And if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be long. After all, I’d stopped sweating, which likely meant heatstroke.
On a positive note, I didn’t have to use the bucket. Hadn’t for several days. If my math was right, today was Avery’s birthday. My sweet little angel girl was five. Which meant she would be starting kindergarten soon. My sweet, beautiful girl.
Thinking of her made me smile, only I knew I wasn’t actually smiling. I was fading, unable to even shift the muscles in my face.
There was one positive in all of this. If today were the day I really died, I was grateful that my family thought my death had been on a different day. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to ruin this birthday for Avery. She deserved only happiness.
“Happy birthday, sweet girl,” I said, though the words didn’t actually come out.
With only the slightest of breezes coming from the cracks in the floorboards, I doubted it would take long before my organs stopped working altogether.
Unable to do anything else, I closed my eyes and prayed some more.
I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I was roused by the sound of the chain on my leg. I tried to open my eyes, but I was too tired, too weak.
“Kylie, it’s me, Kieran. I need you to do me a favor. Don’t move,” he whispered, his words kind. “I’m here to get you out, but I need you to be as still as possible.”
That wasn’t a problem since I didn’t have enough energy to swallow, much less move.
I felt his fingers press against the pulse in my neck briefly, then he leaned down. I didn’t open my eyes, but I could feel his breath.
“I’m gonna lift you up. I want you to remain completely lax. Let your head fall back, and your arm swing down.”
He was talking so softly I could barely hear him, but I managed a tiny nod.
“Good. The goal is to convince them you’re dead.”
Probably wasn’t too far off.
Kieran didn’t say another word as he slid his arms under my back and my knees and lifted me like I weighed nothing. I did as he instructed, letting my arm swing and my head fall back while he held me close to his chest and carried me out of the room. My body moved with the motion of his.
“She’s dead,” Kieran snapped, but I wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “If I were you, I’d find a way to remove your presence from here. Unless you want to go down for murder.”
“Murder?” a man said. “Fuck that, man. I didn’t kill that bitch.”
Kieran didn’t respond, continuing to walk.
I was aware of the fresh air on my face. It was warm, but it felt good, and it smelled even better.
“Open the trunk,” Kieran called out to someone.
The trunk?
“Only for a few minutes, Kylie,” he whispered as he shifted. “We’ve got to sell this.”
I didn’t like the idea of being confined in a trunk, but I figured it couldn’t be much worse than where I’d been.
When Kieran leaned forward, my spine resting on something hard, I broke my silence. “Please, Kieran. Please don’t let me die.”
“I won’t.”
For some strange reason, I believed him.