Page 9 of Saddles

Living with Dad as an adult, I realize now why she crawled inside the bottle.

Which is where it smells like I am.

One eye manages to peel open far enough to see the hazy outline of a small room.

No wonder it stinks, there’s piles of empty beer cans against the wall closest to me.

I don’t remember going to a party.

Just the gas station.

My car.

The cute country boy—

Oh fuck.

Fear rockets through me making my heart pound in my ears. When I try to sit up, my wrist is locked in place.

Not good.

What the hell is going to happen to me?

I use my free hand to pat my pockets, in the slim chance that I have my phone.

Empty, as expected.

I have to get out of here.

When I tug on my bound arm, the handcuffs rattle against the metal frame making a hollow clang that fills the small space.

Shit.

A dark haired head with crooked teeth appears through the gap in the door. “Well, hi. Finally decided to wake up?”

It isn’t the same man from the station.

What the hell is going on?

He shifts into the room, revealing his stained clothes and bringing the overpowering smell of body odor.

“Not a talker? Want some water?” He offers a bottle as he edges closer.

I’d rather drink my own pee than trust anything he has.

“No? Don’t worry, you will eventually.” His yellow grin is uneven around his disjointed teeth.

What kind of hillbilly rathole did I end up in?

“Who are you?” I say hoarsely. Damn it, I really could use a drink.

Liquor is starting to sound like a better option.

“Oh, you can speak.” His eyes widen when he leans against the particle board wall. “I’m Doug, you met my brother Davey.” He jerks a thumb behind him.

Davey must be the cute one.

They’re both still terrifying assholes.

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