Chapter 27
27
RAE
I am a badass, a fighter who doesn’t give up.
I continued the internal pep talk as I gathered the courage to roll off the couch. With my legs and feet secured, there was nothing to ease the impact of the brief fall to the ground. That pain wasn’t something I looked forward to. This escape attempt could cause a broken nose or smashed teeth, neither of which I wanted to add to my current list of injuries.
But I couldn’t just lie around and wait for my death. I had to do something before that psychopath came back.
My brother. Yeah, right. He was a messed-up freak who zeroed in on me because he thought I was someone else. There was no way.
If—and that was a strong if—he’d told me the truth, then that meant I’d lived a lie my entire life. My parents looked me in the eye and lied to me every day. That wasn’t possible. No, they couldn’t have done that. And there was no way in hell that man and I were related.
“Who does that?” I said, talking to myself to keep the suffocating silence at bay. “Goes around claiming someone is their sibling, then says they have to die? Crazy-ass people, that’s who. And I need to get away from said crazy-ass person who looks dead inside.” I shivered at the memory of those haunted, soulless eyes. “Okay, Rae, you got this. On the count of three, rip off the Band-Aid and roll off the couch. One.” I sealed my eyes shut and inched to the side. “Two.” Humid air filled my lungs as I sucked in a deep breath. “Three.”
Nothing happened.
The air whooshed through my blubbering lips in disappointment.
This was ridiculous. The pain that monster planned was no doubt worse than what the abrupt fall could inflict.
Shimmying back to the edge, I didn’t give myself a second to chicken out and just tipped myself over. In the short free fall, realization hit too late that I could’ve eased my feet off the couch to help cushion the landing, or slipped off backward to help save my face.
Well, fuck. Apparently I didn’t perform well under pressure.
My cheek slammed to the ground. Something sharp bit into the skin, tearing it open. One shoulder and both knees followed, the floor shaking with the impact. A groan slipped out as I rolled onto my back and blinked up at the ceiling. The taste of copper slid across my tongue and down the back of my throat.
Now what? Still bound, just at a different elevation. Really, really should’ve thought this through better than I did. I could blame it on the soul-trembling panic, or even dehydration for causing my thoughts to lag. The way my mouth felt filled with cotton balls, my throat so dry it might crack, the dehydration excuse seemed the most valid.
I tried to swallow, but only thick blood coated the back of my tongue.
When was the last time I drank anything? Without a way to see outside, there was no way to tell how long I was unconscious before waking in this container of horrors. The trickle of water all around me made my thirst worse. Water seeped from cracks and fissures above, but I couldn’t risk drinking the runoff. Adding dysentery or a brain-eating amoeba to the mix would not help my situation.
I chuckled. Maybe I read one too many of the medical journals that came into the library.
The water along the floor soaked through the thin material of my shorts and pooled around my calves and arms where they pressed into shallow puddles. If I wanted out of here, I needed my hands.
Each twist of my wrists elicited pure agony, ripping and digging into the already raw flesh. Still, I continued to rotate both hands, hoping to stretch the fabric or snag it on the metal floor. As a distraction from the pain, I inspected my metal cage of death and kept working at the bindings.
Deep ridges, almost ripples, waved along the wall, and I felt the same pattern pressed against my back and shoulder blades. A container for shipping or trucking maybe. Which meant there was a door somewhere.
A single drop of water splashed onto my nose, tickling the skin as it rolled down, gaining momentum. Reaching up, I rubbed the tip to quell the insistent itch.
I stilled. Holy hell, I actually did it. Slowly raising my hand in front of my face, I turned it to inspect the damage in the faint light. Deep red lines covered in seeping blisters encircled my wrists, but I was free. A relieved sob rattled my chest, irritating my dry airway. A violent cough erupted, leaving me gasping for air.
Slick, cool metal pressed against my palms as I pushed to sit upright. My weak, slightly numb fingers fumbled with the knot securing my feet. I cried out in frustration at every failed attempt, which turned into a cheer when the binding fell to the floor. I rotated one ankle, then the other to encourage the flow of blood to my unfeeling toes.
My pulse raced, heart nearly in my throat as I shifted to stand. Tremors vibrated down my legs at my first attempt, sending me crashing back to the metal floor. Determined to get the fuck out of there, I used the couch as leverage, crawling until I sat on the edge of a worn cushion. Using the armrest as a makeshift crutch, I stood, the wave of dizziness almost sending me back to the floor.
But I didn’t. Fingers dug into the sides, I held on until my vision sharpened. Still holding on, I took a moment to scan the long dark container. Doused in black, the end now in view didn’t offer a single light to show what waited in those menacing shadows. I turned my focus to the dim light.
Steps hesitant, I eased toward the chair and side table.
The three-legged table wobbled as I approached, unsteady on the metal flooring. I squinted at the light and bent lower for a closer look.
A lantern, not a lamp like I expected. The smooth rounded metal felt cool along my skin as I wrapped three fingers around the handle and lifted it into the air. No cord held it in place. Battery operated, then, or maybe rechargeable.
I swung the lamp left to inspect the decaying leather chair where I first found my captor waiting and watching. Stuffing pushed through rips along the back while two springs jutted out, poking through the leather seat.
Using the lamp, I scoured the area around the chair, hoping for a bottle of water, Gatorade maybe—even better, wine. I shook my head. Clearly I’d reached the delusional part of dehydration.
Nothing. Not even an empty plastic bottle to collect rainwater.
Worry tightened my chest as my panic returned. He could return at any moment.
Get out.
Get out.
Get out.
Lantern in my grip, I stumbled forward, feeling my way down the length of the container with one hand on the metal wall. An army green cot with a dirty blanket and yellowed pillow stopped me halfway to the other side. A naked and bound woman’s face contorted in pain stared up at me from the opened porn magazine.
Terror filled my veins, visions of what he might do when he came back flying through my groggy thoughts. I gagged, doubling over and hugging my stomach as I dry-heaved.
Crying out for help, I stumbled to the doors. The metal boomed under my pounding fist, and screeching pierced my ears as I scratched and clawed at the unmovable lever. Nails cracked and split as I wedged my fingertip into the seam that split the two doors.
My crackling scream of frustration echoed throughout the container as I staggered back. All my attempts failed.
Picking up the discarded lamp, I whirled around, using its weak light to look for another way out. A stack of wilting cardboard boxes stuffed in the corner made me pause. Maybe food or even water hid in those boxes.
The damp cardboard flap ripped as I tore into the first box, rummaging around with one hand while the other held the hovering lantern.
Clothes. Men’s clothes.
Useless.
I shoved it away; it tumbled to the ground, the contents spilling along the floor, and tore into the next box.
Books, stacks of books. A mix of paperback and hardback. The unmistakable tag along the spine had me reaching for the library book. I held it up and flipped to the front. A red-stamped “SOLD” marked the title page. There was no way to remember this exact book or whom I sold it to, but a feeling of dread crept over me.
How close to death had I walked over the past several years? Had he watched my every move, waiting for the right moment, the right person to terrorize me further? Why didn’t he end it all that night he murdered my parents? Why wait until now? Now when I had hope for a future and someone out there waiting for me?
Someone I loved.
The lamp, my only source of light to chase away the impenetrable darkness, flickered.
“No,” I breathed and gave it a coaxing wiggle. It flared back to full force, but I knew my time was short.
Reaching into the box, I blindly felt around until my fingers brushed against something soft. Pinching whatever it was between two fingers, I lifted it out into the light.
A faded blue stuffed bunny stared back at me with its one button eye. Something white was wrapped around its neck. I moved it closer. Row after row of dingy white shoelaces encircled its elongated neck. Eyes wide, I dropped the sinister bunny back into the box.
Shoelaces.
He used shoelaces to strangle his victims. My parents.
The lamp in my trembling hand dimmed.
And dimmed.
Black surrounded me when it gave out completely.
I sucked in gulps of air, but it wasn’t enough. The useless lantern clattered to the metal floor as I stumbled toward what I hoped was the door. I tripped, my shin nailing a box, sending me tumbling forward.
My teeth clattered at the jarring impact as my shoulder slammed the ground; a disgusting popping sound and intense pain immediately followed. I cried out, my voice barely a whisper as I screamed for help, for anyone to save me.
There was no difference between my eyes open or closed, only utter darkness.
No tears leaked from my dry, scratchy eyes as I sobbed in pain and terror. Each ragged breath sliced at my lungs, coming too quick and shallow.
Trapped, blind, and alone.
There was no way out.
Sadness washed over me at the realization that this was where I would die.
Alone.
Hopelessness dug in, sending me deeper and deeper into myself.
Even if Alec found me, it would be too late to save me.