Page 135 of Finders Keepers

“Matt, please,” I beg, my voice shaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

He laughs, and it’s a bitter sound. “You really think you can just leave me? You’re mine, Bailey. Always remember that.”

I back away, my hands raised in a futile attempt to defuse the situation. “I just want to go, Matt. Please, just let us go.”

His eyes narrow, and I can see the rage building within him. “You think I’m just going to let you walk out of here with my daughter? Never going to happen.”

Just then, there’s a loud banging on the door. Gavin’s deep voice booms through the cheap wood. “Bailey! Sophie? Open up!”

Matt’s face contorts with fury as he realizes I’m not alone. “You brought him here? You fucking whore!”

He lunges for me, his hands curled into fists, but I manage to dodge him, my heart pounding in my ears. I sprint around the bed, my eyes frantically searching for something, anything, to use as a weapon. My hand closes around the lamp on the end table, and I yank the cord from the wall, brandishing it like a club.

Finally, I find my voice. “Get away from me, Matt! I’m not going to let you hurt me or my daughter ever again!”

He lunges for me again, his eyes cold and deadly, but this time, I’m ready. I swing the lamp with all my might, the heavy base connecting with his skull with a sickening crack. The lamp shatters, sending glass flying in every direction, but I barely register the pain as shards embed themselves in my hands.

He staggers back, his eyes rolling up into his head, and for a moment, I think he’s going down. But then, with a roar of fury, he charges at me like a wounded animal. I try to dodge again, but this time, I’m not fast enough. His fist connects with my jaw, sending me reeling backward. I crash into the wall, my head spinning as I slide to the floor.

He’s on me in an instant, his hands like vice grips on my shoulders as he slams my head back against the wall over and over and I can feel the indent it’s making.

I kick and scratch, desperately trying to break free, but it’s no use. He’s too strong, and I’m already weakened from the initial blow.

“You think you can just get away from me?” he snarls, his beer-soaked breath washing over my face. “You’re mine, Bailey. You’re. Mine.”

I struggle to breathe, my lungs burning as I try to fill them with air. I know I have to keep fighting, for Sophie’s sake. I can’t let him take her.

I bring my knee up sharply, connecting with his groin, and he grunts in pain, his grip loosening for a moment and I use it to my advantage, shoving him away with all my might. He stumbles back, and I scramble to my feet, putting some distance between us.

But he’s not done. With a roar of fury, he charges at me again, his hands reaching for my throat. I try to dodge, and again I’m not fast enough. His hands close around my neck, squeezing tightly as he lifts me off the ground and then slams me onto the mattress.

My vision starts to blur, and I can feel my lungs burning as I gasp for air. I know I’m running out of time. I claw at his arm but I don’t do any real damage.

“Sophie.” I rasp, my voice strained, barely above a whisper.

“Will be perfectly fine with me.” His grin is sinister.

Just then, I hear Gavin’s voice again, more frantic this time. “Bailey! Open the damn door!”

I know he’s trying to get to me, but it’s too late. My vision is tunneling now, and I can feel my body starting to shut down. The last thing I see is Matt’s face, contorted into something almost inhuman. Cold, calculating, and full of something far darker than rage—before everything goes dark.

Ijolt awake, my eyes flying open, and I’m immediately assaulted by harsh fluorescent lights and sterile white walls. The steady beeping of monitors fills my ears. Every breath feels like I’m dragging sandpaper through my lungs, my throat is raw and burning as though I’d swallowed hot coals. I try to move, but the pain makes me wince, sending sharp spikes of agony shooting through me.

My neck is secured in a rigid brace, and I try to look over to my left as best I can, where I notice a beautiful arrangement of flowers in a crystal vase, yellows, purples, and whites blending together in a cheerful display that seems at odds with the stark hospital room. There are daisies and what looks like purple statice mixed with delicate baby’s breath. My vision blurs as I try to focus on them, the colors swimming together like a watercolor painting in the rain, making me feel slightly dizzy and disoriented.

Everything hurts, from my head to my toes. My jaw throbs with each heartbeat, a constant reminder of what happened, and my body feels like it’s been hit by a truck, every muscle screaming in protest at the slightest movement. The memories come flooding back in vivid, terrifying flashes. Sophie’s screams echoing from the bathroom, Matt’s rage-filled face contorted with anger, Gavin beating on the door. Hot tears start to well up in my eyes, but I fight them back as best I can, blinking rapidly against the sting.

A movement to my right catches my attention. The figure is fuzzy at first, but as it approaches, Gavin’s features come into focus. His expression shows nothing but love and concern, and I notice his red puffy eyes with dark circles underneath them, like he hasn’t slept in days. His usual neat appearance is disheveled, his dark hair unruly, his clothes wrinkled and his facial hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it. The sight of his usually pristine self in such disarray makes my heart clench. I’ve never seen him looking so utterly exhausted, not even during his longest shifts at the veterinary clinic.

“Sophie?” I try to ask, but it comes out as barely more than a whisper, my damaged throat protesting even that small effort. The fear for my daughter overwhelms everything else, making my fingers twist anxiously in the thin hospital sheets.

Gavin leans in closer, his warm hand finding mine on the bed. His familiar gaze locks with mine as he speaks.

“Shhh, she’s with Ms. Lucy in the cafeteria,” he says softly, his thumb drawing gentle circles on my skin, a soothing gesture that makes my heart ache with gratitude. “That little girl is as stubborn as her mama, she wouldn’t leave your side for two days straight. We finally convinced her to go with Ms. Lucy to get clean clothes and bribed her with some chocolate chip cookies, but only after she made me promise to stay right here with you. She even made me pinky swear.”

Two days? I’ve been out for two days? The realization sends a wave of panic through me, and I hear the beep of the monitor I’m hooked up to begin to accelerate wildly. The fluorescent lights above suddenly seem too bright, too harsh. I try to speak again, but Gavin shakes his head and places his palm on my forehead and begins to stroke my hair back from my face.

“Don’t try to talk, Bailey. The doctor says your throat needs time to heal.” He reaches for a cup of water with a bendy straw and holds it to my lips. I feel him shift across the bed and can see he’s grabbed some sort of remote and pressed a button. I take a sip finally and the cool liquid provides momentary relief to my burning throat, though swallowing still feels like torture, each gulp sending sharp pains down my neck.

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