Chapter 25Hailey
CHAPTER 25
HAILEY
Boom. Boom. Boom.
A drum beats steady inside my brain, and I groan, turning my head to try and get away from it. The thump follows my movement, growing in intensity, making me feel nauseous. When I try to bring my hand up to rub my temple, I meet resistance, but I don’t understand why.
God, my brain feels like I’m trudging through mud. All I understand is the horrible boom, boom, boom making me feel ill.
“Wake up,” a voice says, penetrating through the dense fog in my head. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”
Pain erupts in my hip, and I have the vague sense that I’m rolling which makes my stomach queasiness worsen. My face itches, and something digs into my back. I squirm to try and get away from it only to realize it’s my hands, but for some reason they won’t move or do what I want them to.
“I said wake up,” the voice, a woman’s I realize, says again and shoves my other hip.
My eyes flutter, but the light in the room has them closing again. It makes the nausea worse. Migraine. Since my first accident, I get them here and there, but there’s normally a reason.
Then, through the continuous drumbeat in my head, words filter through and make sense.
Hit you.
I didn’t hit you that hard.
Opening my eyes and pushing back against the eruption of pain behind them, the world is a blur, my vision swimming for a moment before I’m able to focus. My dresser on my right, my bed on the left. A woman with shoulder length black hair. Lips the size of Texas. Leering at me.
“Hi Hailey,” Priscylla crows, perched on the end of my bed.
Shoulder length? That doesn’t make sense. It was long before.
I struggle to free my arms again, trying to scramble away from her at the same time, but I hardly move. That’s when it dawns on me that I’m tied up. That’s why I can’t move my hands from where they’re digging into my back. Trying to move my feet, I realize it’s not only my hands—my ankles are tied together too.
Opening my mouth to talk—or yell—there’s more resistance. Tape. That’s why my face itches.
“You’re a distraction,” she tells me, leaning back on the bed, using her arms to support her. It puts her swollen belly on display. “Luke doesn’t need distractions. Especially ones as horrible as you.”
I stare up at her, squinting against the light and the throbbing in my head, my heart racing as I try to sort out what’s happening. It’s like I’m swimming through murky water, trying desperately to find the surface and make sense of what’s going on around me, but the pain is unbearable.
“How could you desert him like you did all those years ago? I’ll never understand it. He’s such an incredible guy, you know?” Her chest rises with a deep breath, a dreamy look coming over her. “Sweet, funny, hot. A firefighter. He’s perfect.”
That’s not all he is. This woman doesn’t know him if that’s all she thinks he is.
“And you hurt him. Not once, but twice. I can’t stand for that,” she says, her shoulders rising and then falling with a deep sigh. “I saw you at his place with him the other day. He was on his knees for you, and you just… walked away. How do you do that to a man as flawless as him?”
Something I’ve been asking myself all week, even though I knew I needed time to sort through my life.
“Do you know how many women would kill for a man like him to be on his knees for them?”
The question has my lunch threatening to come up my throat. I swallow hard, trying to keep my breathing even through my nose, realizing just how precarious my situation is. Is that her plan here? To kill me? And then what—go to jail and not be able to raise her child?
She leans over and grabs my hair, using it to pull me towards her. I don’t move much, whether because I’m heavy or she’s weak, I don’t know, but she’s close enough that I can smell garlic on her breath. Pain shoots through my scalp, doing nothing to help the hammering in my head, and for a moment my vision blurs.
“I wanted to hurt you then. You deserved to be boot stomped for hurting him. Honestly, you still do,” she says, violently pushing my head away from her.
Somehow, I manage to keep my head from bouncing on the carpeted floor, but the movement alone has the nausea making me heave, and I try to roll to my side in fear of throwing up. Then I realize if I do, the only thing I’m going to be able to do is swallow it thanks to the tape on my mouth.
“But instead, I followed you here, deciding I’d watch you for a little while. If you’re what Luke wants, I have to become you.” Perched back on the bed, a hand comes to her stomach to caress her belly. “You made it easy. It wasn’t ten minutes before you were walking out the door with a packed bag. I followed you to the hotel you stayed in the first night, and once I figured you were settled, I came back here.”
Tears from gagging wet my face as I stare up at her. Considering she’s in my bedroom, that shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, but it’s the first my brain is recognizing what this means. I haven’t been home in a week. I spent my first two nights in a hotel, and the last ones at Quinn’s because I didn’t want to come across Luke or my mom. Staying in Santa Rosé seemed like the best decision.
“I spent my evenings here, learning as much as I could about you—cute box of keepsakes from your time with Luke, by the way, I really loved finding that,” Priscylla croons, a smile cruel and vicious slipping across her face. “I burned it, but it was cute.”
I glance in the direction of my closet where that box sat for years. It’s not at the top of my priority list right now, but it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, thinking about all my memories being gone.
“Then I spent my days trailing you. God, you’re boring,” she says, pulling my attention back to her. “I’m going to spice that up once you’re not in the picture anymore. Luke isn’t boring, you know. He likes excitement and thrills. I truly don’t know what he sees in you.”
The veiled threat is right there, and my brain picks up on it immediately. This deranged lunatic is going to kill me. I need to do something or I’m going to die. Oh god, I’m going to die.
No, I haven’t even lived. I can’t die. There’s too much I still need to do. Be in love, get married, have kids—all with Luke, if he’ll have me after I pushed him away. Go on the Double Drop as many times as possible. Conquer the rest of Tree Toppers. Oh god, I even told Dr. Rinkins I would consider skydiving if it meant being with Luke.
Standing up, she looks down at me, flipping a hand through her hair. “But you have cute hair, and Luke seems to like it, so I got a haircut. Do you think he’ll like it? I even put some red highlights in it myself.”
Her hair had been tucked behind her ears, but now she lets it fall forward as she takes one step over me, and I can see the flaming red streaks woven between the dark strands. Fresh tears well in my eyes and slip down my temples as I stare up at Priscylla. I plead with her using only my eyes, trying to convey to her not to do this. That I won’t turn her in if she just leaves now. Hell, she can even leave me here. Someone will find me. Quinn will realize I’m missing. Luke will check in. My mom will be by.
Right?
Someone would find me… I think.
Or would it be days before someone found me? Would I have died of dehydration before then? I’ve pushed everyone away; it would be up to Quinn to do something. Except I told her last night that I was coming home today, so she’s not expecting me.
Oh god.
Oh no.
I’m going to die.
“Oh,” Priscylla giggles, but the sound is a million miles from me and muffled. “Is someone starting to panic?”
Panic? Who? Is someone here with us? My eyes move towards the door, and for some strange reason, it doesn’t seem to hurt like it did before. In fact, nothing hurts. The only sensation is pins and needles prickling every inch of my body.
“Slow down. Breathe.”
The words are nothing more than a whisper around me, and I try to turn towards the sound, but I can’t seem to make my head move. Nothing will move. All I can do is stare up at Priscylla who appears overjoyed to be watching me.
I need to do something. Logically, I know that. And yet nothing is working.
“Freckles, focus. Deep breath.”
Luke. It’s him. He’s the one whispering, and I desperately want to see him, but I can’t.
“Listen to me. Now. Focus and breathe.”
The command in his voice has me pulling in a deep breath through my nose. Once, twice, three times. My head swims with a surge of oxygen, and my vision dances with stars, but by the fifth inhale, the pins and needles start to recede, and I realize how short and quick my breathing must have been. Me. I was the one panicking.
“You can do this. You’re my brave girl. Figure it out. Come back to me.”
My eyes close at his voice in my mind. I recognize now that it’s all a figment of my imagination, that I’m only hearing what I want to hear, but Luke’s voice fills me with strength. His belief in me has always been there, and it’s time I channel that into belief in myself. I can do this. I can survive.
“Open your eyes, Hailey,” Priscylla sings. “I want you to see this coming.”
At the same time as I open my eyes, I kick off the floor, launching my feet towards my head—towards Priscylla, who is still straddling me. On my back, with zero momentum, though, my legs come slamming back to the ground without so much as touching her. Just in time for her to screech in anger.
And I count my blessings. I’d damn near forgotten about her swollen belly. The baby inside that needs protection.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screams and lifts a booted foot over my head, ready to do as she threatened.
I’m so fucked.
“Hailey?” a distant voice calls.
With a burst of energy, I kick my legs back into the air, crying out behind the tape. This time my feet don’t miss, though I don’t hit her as hard in the ass as I’d originally intended, only wanting to throw her off enough that I can avoid her smashing my skull in.
It works. She yells again, launching forward and missing my head completely, catching herself before she falls. I twist on the ground, trying to see where she is and what she’s doing, when she whirls around to me.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” she seethes.
“Hailey?”
I heard my name the first time, but thought I was imagining it. This time, I know I hear it, full of caution, but there’s nothing I can do to warn whoever it is. Priscylla hears it too, and turns towards the door, letting out a battle cry before she springs into action and launches herself out of the room.
“Hail—” The sound of my name is cut off by an ear piercing shriek that makes my blood turn to ice.
My mom.
I scream behind the mouth covering, pulling and twisting against the tape at my ankles and hands, desperate to get one set of my limbs free. The scream from outside my bedroom turns into grunts and cries, thumps and bangs, and I struggle with every ounce of energy I have to get out of my constraints.
Then nothing. Only silence and the sound of my own movement penetrates my ears, and I stop to listen, eyes wide, head throbbing, waiting for something, anything, to tell me that my mom is okay.
When there’s nothing but more silence, fresh tears sting my eyes, a sob bubbling up my throat causing the tears to spill over onto my cheeks. No. No, no, no. She needs to be okay. I’m mad at her, I know, but she’s my mom. I need her to be okay. I can’t lose her.
Desperate to get to her, I wiggle towards the door, pushing myself with my feet, shuffling my shoulders back and forth, crying against the tape over my mouth. I get myself far enough to see out the door, but stop when I hear something from downstairs.
A groan. Something hitting the wall. Muffled, but there. Another groan. Then footsteps.
I try to steady my breathing, terrified that it’s Priscylla coming to finish the job, when I hear my mom, “Hailey? Baby? Where are you?”
She emerges from the top of the stairs then, and another sob, full of relief this time, comes up my throat, but I shove it back, needing to breathe. The sound draws her attention to the floor where I am, and she gasps.
“Hailey!”
Rushing towards me, she lands on her knees at the top of my head, grabbing the tape and ripping it off without thinking it through. I yelp in pain as it tears away hair and probably a good amount of skin—hopefully all dead stuff—but then I can fully breathe, and I greedily gulp in air.
“Where is she?” I wheeze.
At the same time, my mom asks, “Are you hurt?”
“Mom, where is she?”
“At the bottom of—we—we—she came at me down the stairs, I didn’t know she was—I didn’t?—”
Oh god. The baby. I need to get down there and check on them. “Get this tape off me.”
“Tape?” she says, sounding confused, and I roll myself to one side to show her my hands behind my back. A horrified noise escapes her. “Oh god, Hailey. What did she do to you? Are you hurt?”
“No,” I lie. She’s already on the verge of freaking out. If she knew what I suspect, she would teeter over the edge of panic, and I don’t know that I would get her back. I’m guessing the only thing propelling her forward right now is a wealth of chemicals her body is sending to keep her safe. Fight or flight. “I’m fine. You got here in time. How did you know?”
The question is meant as a distraction while she tries to get the tape off my wrists, something taking too long for my liking. But I’m at her mercy.
“I didn’t. I—well, I saw a car in the driveway for the first time in a week, and I just—” I can’t see her face, but I can hear the emotion building in her words, and know tears are on their way. “I needed to talk to you. The way you left that day?—”
“It’s okay, mom,” I tell her in a soothing voice, even though things are far from okay. “Just focus on the tape.”
“Yeah, mom,” Priscylla’s voice floats toward us. “Focus on the tape.”
We both freeze, looking at the top of the stairs where Priscylla is standing, holding a bottle in one hand, a lighter in the other. The cruel smile from earlier is back, and I have just enough time to scream at my mom to close the door when Priscylla lights the rag hanging from the bottle and throws it at us.