Page 33 of Every Broken Piece
He takes a step closer. I look around, twisting my head right then left, looking for an escape. But there is none. He’s between me and the only door in a windowless room.
“That’s too bad, Theresa. Sandra’s creditors won’t like to hear that.”
“Please,” I whisper. “I don’t have any contact with Sandra anymore. I don’t know why she gave you my name.” I do. I do know why, and I hate her for it. I hate her with a passion that one person should never feel for another.
His hand whips out so fast that I barely have time to flinch before he’s jerking on my ponytail. I cry out, bending my neck back to ease the pain but he keeps a steady pressure on my hair, slowly dragging me down until my knees buckle and I slide to the floor. I’m kneeling before him; eyes level with his zipper as I heave in one terrified breath after another.
“Sandra says you’re good for the money. I’m here to collect. I don’t get it, bad things happen, Theresa.”
“I don’t care what you do to her.” God help me but I don’t care. I’d probably thank him for permanently taking this woman out of my life.
“That’s not how it works, honey. You owe us the money or you pay another way.” He’s staring down at me. My neck is cranked back and to the side, forcing me to look up. I can barely see his eyes, just an occasional glitter as it rakes over my body, taking in the dress I thought was so cute and the boots that fit perfectly even though they were second hand. His lips tip up. “You’ll bring a good amount of money in, but not twenty grand worth.”
I’ll bring...
Is he talking aboutselling me? Like human trafficking selling me?
I whimper.
“Still don’t have that money?”
I try to shake my head, but any movement feels like he’s tearing hunks of hair out. I have no way of getting the money. If I had the money, I’d like to say I wouldn’t give it to him, but I know this is just the beginning of the pain I’m going to feel, so yes. Yes, I would give him anything he asks for as long as I don’t disappear like all those girls you hear about in the news.
I think of Gabe and my promise to him to be safe tonight and that I’d text him when I got home. I think of the cat I wanted to badly and will never get. I think of possibilities and dreams that will never come true.
But mostly I think of Gabe sitting at home waiting for my text.
My captor leans down until our faces are close. Mint. I smell mint toothpaste and somehow that makes all of this so much worse. Like he actually brushed his teeth before leaving the house to terrorize me.
Using my hair like a joystick to control me, he yanks up and I scramble to my feet, my head following the direction of his hand.
He releases my hair, and I barely have time to breathe a sigh of relief from the sudden cessation of pain when he punches me in the stomach.
It’s so unexpected that I barely make a sound. The air rushes out of me and nothing comes back to replace it.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
I can only double over and wretch, desperate for a sip of air.
From my peripheral I see a fist before pain explodes in my cheek. I fall, landing on my wrist and crying out. I curl into a tight ball as a brown cowboy boot aims for my head.
Chapter twenty-one
Gabe
Me: Just checking in to make sure you got home all right
Me: Hope everything’s okay
Me: Did you fall asleep in your blanket cocoon?
Me: Starting to worry
Me: Tess, please let me know you’re okay
Me: Damn it, Tess, I’m really worried. Please text that you’re okay
I’ve sent at least twenty texts in the past twelve hours.
