Chapter 14 Annabelle
Heavy footsteps and booming voices have me flying out of my somewhat slumber, my eyes widening at the noise that’s getting increasingly louder and more prominent.
My back aches from falling asleep against the wall and my legs tingle with the lack of blood flow from keeping them close to my chest. I have to protect myself at all costs, even in my sleep.
With a heavy swing, the door comes flying open and bounces off the damp concrete walls, my husband filling the doorway.
“Time to go.” He speaks firmly as he strides into the revolting room. I’ve been left without any form of toilet, leaving me to relieve myself on the floor. Disgusting, I know. But, what? Time to go? Go where?
“What? What do you mean, time to go?” I croak out, my throat desperate for some fresh water. The headaches have been consistent since I was thrown into this room, they’re even worse in the mornings after a fitful sleep. The muscle in my forehead pounds with every blink of my eyes.
Ricky steps over the mess I’ve left on the floor, his face scrunched up in disgust before wrapping his hand around my thin bicep and yanking me up from the floor.
The swift movement makes me dizzy and I’m left with no choice but to hold onto his shoulders to stop me from falling.
“It doesn’t matter where we’re going, just know that we’re leaving.
Now.” His words are sharp and his breath is minty, there’s also a slight hint of whiskey too. He always did love his whiskey.
Immediately, I’m pulled through the room, my feet slipping through all the bodily fluids that lay waste on the floor and then out into the bright hallway, the fluorescent lights burning into my retinas.
Ricky wastes no time in pulling me through the hallways then into the centre room of the prison, which probably housed inmates during lunch times, now it’s just groups of women and girls all huddled together.
My eyes scan the room for Emily but I don’t find her anywhere, did she get out? Maybe she got out?
“If you’re looking for Emily, you won’t find her.” Ricky snaps at the side of me as he weaves us through the small crowd. “What do you mean I won’t find her? You’re taking us somewhere aren’t you?”
Confusion fills my mind and the simmering headache from before now blooms fully across my eyes.
“She’s dead, you dumb bitch,” he says, turning his head towards me. “Fuck, you’re crazier than I thought.” Ricky sniggers, his smirk showing his pearly white teeth.
Dead? But I thought we were getting out together. We were supposed to make it out together, the two of us. I.. I told her Dean was coming to save us. He.. he said he was.
Tears fill my eyes, glazing over my vision and I let them fall without shame. I’ve been named the woman that never cries and now I can’t fucking stop. Ricky slows his steps before turning towards me, then he brings his hand up to touch the side of my face. Panic fires through me and I flinch away.
“You’re so fucking pretty when you cry, sweetheart.
” He speaks with a condescending tone and I go to pull my face away but I don’t make it very far as he grips my jaw tightly, his fingers pressing into my already sunken cheeks.
“I’ll let you in on a little something. Your precious little boyfriend and his puppy, Eli, have fucked me over. So now, we’re going home baby.”
“Home?” I say between his fierce grip.
“Mhmm.” He nods, his face sinister and dark. “You remember the old mill near our home, well, those old bunkers underneath it? One of them has your name on it sweetheart, and I’ve got the perfect buyer lined up for you too.”
Realisation hits me heavily and I struggle to find my breath.
The old mill has been derelict for years.
I had no idea Ricky was using it for business.
I always heard horror stories of the mill, that the bunkers were used to keep the workers inside, basically like slaves.
The thought has a sour taste rising in my throat but I know nothing would come up, I’m empty.
“Looks like Deany boy isn’t going to find you now, is he? Such a shame.” Ricky says with an evil glint in his eyes, then shoves me into the small group of women huddled behind me.
Dean isn’t going to find me. I’m going to die without him, without Lyla. I’ll be sold off to a man who’s probably just as cruel as my husband and I’m not sure which is worse.
I watch on from the corner of the room as groups of girls and women are loaded into vans, ready to take us to the old mill and I can’t stop the sinking feeling that’s resting in my stomach like a brick.
I need to find a way to let Dean know where we’re being taken to, and I need to be smart about it.
If Ricky notices anything out of place, I’ll be dead before I even step foot into the van.
My eyes bounce around the room until they land on a guard who’s patrolling the group I’m standing in.
He walks up and down with a pretty big loaded gun in his grip, there’s also a pocket on the front of his bullet proof vest that’s filled with marker pens.
An idea hits me, it’s probably fucking stupid but it seems to be the only chance I’ve got.
Keeping in line, I shuffle forward with small steps as the group gets funneled into the vans. The moment the guard passes by us again, I pretend to trip, landing into his front.
“Watch where you’re fucking going, bitch!” The guard belts out before shoving me roughly back in the line, the black marker pen grasped tightly in my hand, hidden from sight. I stumble backwards, my shoulders hitting a young girl behind me.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper to the girl who gives me a small smile before dropping her gaze back down to the floor.
Before she starts walking again, I tap her shoulder with my finger, the other hand holding the pen whilst keeping the torn robe around my naked body.
The girl turns to face me, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. “Could you walk in front of me?” I ask.
“What, why?”
My eyes dart over her face and I can see the terror that’s written all over it. I want to tell her my full plan but I also don’t want to give her false hope either that this will actually work. Instead, I show her the pen and she looks at me with confusion.
“What are you going to do with that?” She whispers, her eyes bouncing down to the black pen in my hand.
“I need to leave a message for someone, but I can’t let these guards see me.
” I say, keeping a look out for the guards.
The girl pauses for a moment, probably assessing whether I’m worth the risk, but then after a couple of seconds she takes the space in front of me and covers her body with mine, keeping me out of eye sight.
We begin to move in sync, every time she takes a step, I take the same one, all the while I’m carefully drawing a thick black line across the concrete bricks, mapping my path until we reach the doors.
Lifting my gaze, I notice a guard stationed next to the black van that’s waiting for us and that’s when I put the final piece of my makeshift plan in place.
Just before it’s our turn to climb inside, I quickly scribble the words Home, Bunker, Mill on the walls.
The writing is scruffy but I’m hoping that maybe either Dean or Eli will understand what I mean, and I pray that they know it’s from me.
“Alright ladies! Next lot inside!” The guard belts out and I immediately drop the marker on the floor before quickly kicking it towards the edge of the wall, then go to step inside the van.
My foot freezes mid air before the van’s step, the smell of burning flesh hitting me like a freight train as flames that seem to reach the sky burn brightly just on the outskirts of the open space at the edge of the treeline.
A strange kind of sickness seems to take over my body at what I’m witnessing.
Bodies upon bodies are being carried and dragged towards the fire before they’re flung into the burning inferno to burn alive, right in front of my eyes.
I can’t seem to make myself move, it’s like my whole body has locked itself into place to witness the horrific horrors, almost like a cruel torment that will forever be branded into my brain.
My eyes will never unsee this form of torture, this savage and inhuman act. Women that I’ve probably stood next to in the showers, shared a slice of bread with, bumped into on Selection Day are facing their fates right in front of me.
The sickness that threatened to show its face earlier rises up my throat like an active volcano when I spot Nico dragging my friend’s body across the patchy grass, her body battered and damaged.
Vomit spews out of my mouth onto my feet, coating them in a sticky yellow substance and I scream, a sound so visceral that I feel it shaking my vocal cords.
“EMILY!”
I don’t even think about what I’m doing, I just run, straight towards the blazing fire.
My feet slam heavily on the rough ground, sending agonising shockwaves up my legs.
Each slam of my foot has me whimpering in pain but I can’t stop, and I don’t even bother to look back.
I need to save my friend, I have to.. I promised her I would get her out.
“Emily, please! No!” I howl like a banshee as tears stream down my face and my lungs scream for me to stop, but I don’t. I deserve every ounce of pain, not her, not like this.
I’m moments away from reaching her when a burning pain fires through the back of my calf, sending me crashing to the floor.
I don’t even have the time to brace myself, my face quickly coming in contact with the hard ground.
Not even the stinging of my skin scraping against the floor is enough to outweigh the throbbing, burning pain that’s currently spreading through my leg.