Chapter 19
Daisy Peonia Mary Parker
Silver River, South Mississippi, USA
I heard him lock the door from the outside.
I didn't bother to confirm what my head already knew, nor did I even try to come up with an escape plan. My brain was a jumble of images and thoughts trying to process what just happened.
Struggling as I got up from the bed, I looked around.
The room reminded me of the one I once had at my mother's house.
It was colorless, everything was in multiple shades of beige, and the furniture was basic: a bed and a wardrobe.
There was another door, though, and I wished with all my might it led to a bathroom.
I staggered over to it and almost let out a satisfied moan the instant I turned on the light and found a shower to my left.
Without thinking, assessing the situation, or even questioning whether it was a good idea, I stripped off my clothes and dragged myself into the shower, turning on the taps with hands that refused to stop shaking.
The water ran cold at first, but it didn't affect me.
My body was beyond my control. It was reduced to a confused mind trapped inside a shaking shell that refused to follow orders.
When the water warmed up, I couldn't tell if it was too hot.
I looked for some kind of body wash and found a bar of soap that seemed to have never been used, and scrubbed the vomit from my skin and hair with it.
Being locked in that trunk, too cramped to move, slowly suffocating, was worse than any gun pointed to my head. When my stomach turned, I inhaled some of the vomit and had to twist and fight for air. I was sure I would’ve died if the man had taken a little longer to open the trunk.
Stepping out of the shower, I stopped in front of the small mirror above the sink.
Not even the tan could hide how red my skin was, yet there was still no feeling in my body.
I stared at my own reflection, not recognizing myself.
I’d almost been killed, the mother of the man I had loved was murdered, and I’d been kidnapped, but I felt nothing.
Despite everything, there was nothing in me but one thought that managed to rise above the turmoil in my mind.
Lester wanted me to live.
I managed to drag myself back to the bedroom. If there were any clothes I could wear in the dresser drawers, I didn't bother to look. I ripped off the towel I had wrapped around my body and crawled naked under the duvet. My skin found comfort in the cool cotton, my hair soaking the pillow.
Before everything went dark, I heard his voice calling me from somewhere distant
‘Flower Girl...’