Maisie
. . .
FORTY
Every inch of my body aches. I groan, curling up against a hard wall. The wall shifts, and pain shoots through my body.
“You’re alright.”
Hearing his familiar voice wakes something inside me, or whatever weird spaced out state I’m in. I moan, trying to speak, but my tongue feels like sandpaper stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“I’ve got you, honey.”
Something sweeps tenderly down my cheek, wiping away wetness. I instinctively press closer. I feel it again—a sweep of a knuckle, maybe.
“Can you open your pretty eyes for me?”
I want to obey, but it feels like I’m swaying on a ship. Everything feels extra hard to complete. I try for him, though.
“That’s it. Let me see those fiery honey eyes,” he encourages.
Light streams in and blinds me. I shield my eyes into his chest, groaning from the movement. “G-gray…son.” My voice is rough.
A warm kiss is placed on my forehead. “I’m right here. Fuck, it’s so good to hear your voice. Hold on just a little longer.”
“It hurts,” I whimper.
He tenses beneath me, his fist tightening on my lap. His voice remains soft when he responds. He brings his other hand around my wrist, holding onto my pulse point. “I’m so sorry, Maisie. Help is almost here. I promise.”
“So tired,” I mumble, snuggling back into his chest.
“Stay awake for me. Can you do that for a little longer? Keep those big, beautiful eyes on me.” There’s panic underlying his tone. I’ve never heard him sound so defeated. “Step on it,” he yells to someone.
The car jerks around a curve, and pain explodes from my side. I let out a little moan. Gentle hands begin to slowly feel around my body, pressing and moving around my clothing.
“What hurts the most?”
“My r-ribs,” I mumble. My shirt is lifted, a curse following.
“Stay as still as you can. Your ribs are badly bruised. One might be broken. Does it hurt to breathe?” I nod shakily. He curses again, gripping his hair tight, tugging at it.
“I’m okay,” I say, trying to ease his worries.
“None of this is okay. This is all my fucking fault. You…you could have… Fuck, I could have lost you, Maisie. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am for involving you in this. They hurt you because of me.”
They. An assault of memories hit me.
I rouse when my head slams into the side of the van. My tied and gagged body rolls with the turn. I’m out of it from the drugs. It must have been a low dose if I’m awake already. That can only mean one thing.
They want me awake for whatever comes next.
I can’t throw my hands up to catch myself as we take a turn in the opposite direction. I tumble again, my hands painfully pulled tight behind my back when I roll over them. I can already feel my eye swelling shut from the impact, even through my drug-induced haze.
The van comes to an abrupt halt, and the back two doors are flung open. Rick and Johnny come into view, their vile smiles turning my stomach. “Wakey, wakey, bitch. It’s time to play,” Rick shouts, rubbing his hands together.
“No!” I scream into my gag, kicking at their hands as they try to pull me out by my feet.
There’s not much I can do with my hands tied.
They don’t bother catching me when I’m pulled out, falling to the concrete.
Rick kicks me over so I’m lying on my back, getting a full view of the two demons above me.
“If you’re a good girl for us, we’ll let you live…maybe.” He smirks before he throws me over his shoulder.
Next thing I know, I’m thrown into a chair, layers of chains wrapped around me. They blindfold my eyes. His fist comes next. I’m not sure who it is. I think they might be taking turns on me. A kick to my ribs follows, and I fold over in pain, as much as the chains allow.
I can’t think through the pain, each blow taking another ounce of my hope at escaping and turning it to ash.
I don’t give them the satisfaction of a single whimper.
I hold it in—that’s what Grayson has done this whole time, fighting for his damn life alone for months. If he can survive this, then so can I.
Cold air brushes against my skin when my shirt is ripped open.
A few grunts later, and my chest is painted with a sticky substance.
Bile rises in my throat, but I keep it down, falling into the deep recesses of my mind, where I live in a perfect bubble with Grayson, making breakfast together each morning and falling asleep together each night.
With the pain and the blindfold, I start to lose track of what’s happening to me. It’s probably for the best. Just as I’m about to lose consciousness, I feel cold metal pressed to my temple—a gun maybe?
“Say cheese, bitch!” Johnny chuckles. Then, the metal swings into the side of my head.
Sweet nothing.
I’m thrown from the memory, thrashing in Grayson’s lap. “Make it stop,” I scream into his chest.
“We’re here, honey. They will make all the pain go away.” I’m lifted into strong arms and rushed through doors.
He doesn’t understand. I’m not screaming for my own pain, but for his. This has to stop. He can’t keep living under their thumb, always looking over his shoulder, chipping away at his soul with each fight forced upon him.
“Make it stop!” I clutch his shirt.
“Room. Now!” Grayson barks, ushering us down a private hallway. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead, lowering me onto a bed. “I’m going to make it all go away. They will never touch you again. You’re free.”
I don’t get a chance to clarify my words to him. Something sharp is pressed into my arm, and the fuzziness returns. I hear yelling in the background—someone making demands. A warm hand squeezes mine just before the lights go out.
More sweet nothing.
Research notes: cowboys will always come when you need them.