The moment the sun made an appearance, I started walking.
I made my way to a road with more potholes than asphalt, and for hours and hours I trudged on, covered in dirt that grew tight around my skin as the sun baked it onto my body and it hardened like clay.
Each step through the hot grass lining the side of the road was nothing short of complete agony. They call them blades of grass for a reason, as each one felt like a tiny knives against my already bare, bloodied, and battered feet.
I was limping my way to nowhere when I finally came across the first sign of civilization: a one-story apartment complex.
I needed to get to a phone, or a police station, or a church. Anyone who could help me, but I didnât have the energy to look any further and needed a place to sit and regain my wits because my mind was a cloud of confusion, exhaustion, and dehydration.
Why did King let me go?
There was something unsettling about his indecision that nipped at my nerves. I half-expected him to pull up along the side of the road at any second and drag me into the car. Maybe, it was the kiss that changed his mind. He thought he could use me for whatever perversion he had in mind, but when he kissed me, he must have realized heâd only be disappointed. So, heâd let me go.
That had to be it. But why, if he killed Nikki, wasnât I dead as well? Why did he spare me and not her?
Nothing made any fucking sense.
After thinking I was seconds away from death more than once in the past thirty six hours, freedom was something I never thought Iâd have again.
But being back on the streets was a captivity of another sort. Freedom meant you had choices.
I still had none.
I stumbled into the apartment complex. Old and unkempt, the building had about ten units and a dark shaker style roof. Half the shingles had been replaced with mismatched plywood. Knee-high weeds grew through cracks in the concrete walkways.
Unable to take another step, I collapsed against the wall of the breezeway and slid down until my butt hit the sidewalk. Finally sheltered from the blistering sun that still felt as if it were searing into my scalp through the center part in my hair.
I just needed to sit a while, catch my breath, and collect my thoughts.
âYou canât stay here, girl. Move along.â A husky man appeared, wearing a t-shirt three sizes too small that depicted a unicorn jumping over a rainbow. He stood over me and folded his arms across his chest. âYou some kind of deaf, girl? You canât stay here. I canât be having the riff-raff lingrinâ about.â He nudged my thigh with his sneaker like he was trying to rouse a lazy dog. âMove along, now.â
âPlease. I just need to use your phone. Please?â I begged, my voice dry and scratchy. I didnât even care about the fact that when I called the police they would probably throw me into another group home.
I thought about one thing and one thing only.
I had a murder to report. Nikki may have been a whore and a thief, but she didnât deserve to die for it. Somedays, I didnât think she even liked me all that much, but she was all I had.
If there was such a thing.
The man sighed, clearly annoyed. âWhat you need it for?â He dug into the party-sized bag of Cheetos heâd been holding. After shoving a handful into his mouth, he sucked his fingers clean of orange powder.
âPlease. You have to help me. Iâd been kidnapped. I was locked in a room, handcuffed to a bed. I escaped and I spent the night in the woods. Iâve been walking all day. Iâm thirsty and sunburnt and tired, and this is the first place I came across. Please, I have to call the police. My friend, my friend Nikki was murdered by the same man who held me captive.â
He shoved another handful of Cheetos in his mouth and wiped his hand across the unicorn. âOh yeah? Well, youâre in luck, Iâm the deputy in these parts. Nameâs Crestor. So, you can report it to me.â He lifted the fat of his stomach and pointed to a previously hidden badge attached to his belt. Cheese sprayed from his mouth when he spoke. âAnd who is it that youâre thinknâ killed your friend?â
âI donâ think he killed her. I know he did. I heard him confess. And I donât know his full name, or even if itâs his name at all. I only know what they call him.â
âAnd what would that be?â He leaned up against the wall, focusing on a light bulb in the ceiling that turned off and on every few seconds on its own, completely disinterested in my story.
âThey call him King.â
His eyes went wide and his fingers loosened around the bag. He dropped the Cheetos to the ground.
Within a second, heâd bent over and grabbed me under my arms, yanking me to my feet. âWait, what are you doing?â I asked as he shoved me toward the parking lot. My right foot twisted when I stepped on an uneven section of pavement, and I fell forward onto the road, skinning my hands and wrists.
âGo on and get! And donât you ever fucking come back here!â he shouted. With his hands on his head, he spun around and waved his arms in the air in frustration. âI donât need that kind of trouble here. Go, girl! If I see you again, next time itâll be my shot gun escorting you out.â
He left me on the road and hustled back to the building, his back fat bouncing up and down as he disappeared behind a door with a window marked OFFICE. He drew the shade the instant he stepped inside.
I stood on shaky legs and wiped gravel from the wounds on my hands onto my t-shirt. The bottoms of my feet stung. My twisted ankle sent sharp pains through my shin with each step. My already bad limp became much more severe.
King apparently had reach. But how far? If I had any chance of seeking help for myself, or for Nikki, I had to get the hell out of Loganâs Beach, but I didnât even know if I was going the right way.
My foot dragged behind me as if it were no longer attached to my body, but hanging on, like cans tied to the bumper of a car.
Hours passed, and although Iâd been walking the entire time, I donât think Iâd gone very far. I could still see the apartment complex in the distance behind me.
Not a single car had passed me all day. My stomach was again protesting its emptiness, twisting and groaning. My face and ears were hot to the touch. The soles of my feet were thick and swollen, thankfully becoming numb to the constant scraping.
I trudged on.
For every inch the sun sank into the horizon, my anxiety increased. A brutally sunny day was again about to be cloaked in the darkness of night.
I came upon an old, abandoned bank with boarded up windows just as thunder rolled in the distance. The sky flashed as lightning jumped from cloud to cloud. I smelt the rain before I felt the first drop splatter on the tip of my nose.
I hobbled toward the covered awning of the drive-through, but I didnât make it. The sky poured itself over me before I could reach shelter. By the time I took cover, I was sopping wet from head to toe, the blacktop underneath me turning brown as the water rinsed off the mud from the night before. I settled against the out of order ATM machine and sat down on the curb, resting my forehead against my knees.
I felt defeated. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wished for one of the bolts of lightning to jump from the clouds and reach under the awning to strike me dead. Dead was better than unwanted.
Dead had to be better than this.
âWhy hello there.â A voice said from out of nowhere.
Chills spread from my spine to my neck. Goosebumps broke out on my forearms. I looked up to find a man with a dirty grey beard standing over me. The wrinkles around his eyes spread over to his cheeks. Some of his front teeth were missing, and his chin was covered in red sores.
âYou lost or something?â He smelled of rotten milk, his clothes were torn and tattered.
âOr something,â I muttered.
âIâm Ed,â he said, extending a hand. His fingernails each about an inch long and yellowed.
Realizing I wasnât going to take his hand, he kneeled down to me, and my heart sped. Ed reached out a filthy hand and attempted to run a knuckle down my cheek. I shuddered and pulled away, jumping to my feet. I swayed unsteadily. Spots danced in front of my eyes. I grabbed the ATM on the wall to steady myself.
âNow donât be rude to ole Ed. Whatâs your name?â he asked, licking his lips and adjusting the stained crotch of his once khaki pants.
âUmâ¦nice meeting you, Ed,â I said as confidently as I could. âBut I gotta go.â I tried to sidestep him, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my only exit.
âWhy donât you stay here and dry off for a while.â His eyes roamed down my body. His toothless smile grew bolder. âAlthough I like a woman whoâs all wet.â He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
âUm, no thanks. Iâm just waiting for my friend to pick me up,â I lied, wishing it were true. I made a move to side-step him again, but this time he grabbed my arm. I tried to shake him loose, but even a child was stronger than me at that point. âGet off me!â
âNow, you listen here. You came into my house. Now, youâre going to stay and see how hospitable I can be.â
Ed yanked my wrist, turning me around until my back was flush up against him. He held my hands captive in front of me. His cock twitched against my thigh, and I gagged. If Iâd had anything in my stomach, it would have come up right there.
I stomped on Edâs booted foot with my bare one, sharp pain exploding in from my foot to my hip, hurting me more than him, but it was just enough to momentarily stun him. I broke free from his grip.
Iâd only made it a few steps when I was yanked backwards by my hair, sending me flying onto my back, smashing the back of my head into the concrete. For the second time in twenty-four hours, the wind was knocked out of me. My windpipe wouldnât open. My lungs struggled inside of my body, painfully asking for air. My vision became hazier and hazier.
This was the very reason why I was seeking protection from a biker. At that moment I wished that Bear had just taken me to his place instead of sending me to King.
But then, I remembered my renewed promise to her.
I had to protect her. At all costs.
And I wasnât going down without one hell of a fight.
When Ed tried to drag my legs down and pry them apart, I kicked out wildly until my foot connected with his face. Blood spurted from his nose, and the heel of my foot felt like it was on fire.
âYouâre gonna pay for that, bitch!â Ed hissed.
Rearing back, he punched me square in the jaw. My head twisted to the side and fell onto the concrete with a thud. My mouth filled with warm coppery liquid.
Ed held something cold and sharp at the base of my throat. âTry to fight me, cunt, and Iâll slit your fucking throat,â he warned through tight lips.
With an unsteady hand holding the knife, he ripped down my sweats and panties in one forceful yank. Each of my gasps elicited another sting from his knife.
I closed my eyes. This is what happens when you wish for death, right?
Sometimes, wishes come true.
I only hoped that he would kill me when he was done so I didnât have to relive this moment for the rest of my life.
Not even a day had passed since I made my promise to protect her and Iâd already failed.
Ed shuffled around with his pants, and I braced myself, coming to terms with the fact that I was going to die under a bank awning in a little town in the middle of nowhere.
As no one.
Then, Ed was gone. His weight suddenly disappeared.
There was a shuffle, then a loud explosion that echoed through my ears. A familiar sound.
I wanted to lift my head to see what was happening, but my neck wouldnât cooperate, and my head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Strong arms reached around my back and under my knees, lifting me effortlessly into the air, cradling me against a hard chest. I tried to fight off whoever it was, but I couldnât manage anything more than a wiggle.
âI got you,â a familiar deep voice murmured into my hair.
King.
âI thought you were letting me go.â I said, my thoughts all swimming around each other in my head, smashing into one another.
âI changed my mind.â Kingâs muscles barely tensed under my weight. He covered me with a leather jacket and wasnât the least bit strained when he walked out into the rain.
The world around me grew fuzzy. âI thought my life was supposed to flash in front of my eyes?â
âWhy would you think that?â he asked. In my weakened state, I didnât know if the concern in his voice was genuine or something I was making up.
âBecause thatâs what happens when youâre dying,â I answered.
âYouâre not dying.â
âOh, good. Because I donât have a life to flash in front of my eyes. I thought whatever higher power exists up there was just showing me you instead.â
âWhy would you see me if you were dying?â he asked. When I didnât answer immediately King shook me and said something about trying to stay awake, but I couldnât listen. I believe what I said next was very similar to, âCause you might be all angry and stuff, but youâre really pretty to look at.â I yawned. âWhy did you come back for me?â
I used all the energy I had left to open an eye and glance around Kingâs shoulder. Ed was slumped against the ATM, staring blankly ahead.
A bullet hole between his eyes.
King held me tighter and lowered his mouth to my ear.
âBecause youâre mine.â