Page 45 of Tower
Instead he walks out the door.
I cry for a few minutes, wondering if everything in my world fell apart once again.
But it hasn’t. It was just a fight. Couples argue like that all the time. He was as upset as I was. Leaving the room wasn’t leaving me for good. We both probably need a little space.
When he returns, we can talk again. We can figure it out.
We’ve worked through everything else, and compared to the other stuff that might have come between us, this argument about my safety and freedom is relatively minor.
So I’m basically composed when I get out of bed, putting on my T-shirt and leggings and gathering my yoga stuff.
It’s too early to get going yet. There’s only a faint edge of light on the horizon. But I need to get out of this room or I’ll start crying again.
After going to the bathroom, I walk to the piece of lawn where we do yoga. I’ll just do some stretches and breathing on my own until my emotions have leveled out.
Levi and I can talk when he gets back.
Everything will be fine.
It’s too early for anyone else to be down. Hawk will show up in another twenty minutes or so, and he’s always the first.
I’m so convinced I’m alone as I’m breathing through Tree Pose that I jerk when a voice comes from behind me. “Hailey.”
Whirling around, I see Sick. He had guard duty this morning, so I’m not sure why he isn’t at his post.
“It’s Boss,” he says, his voice urgent. “He’s hurt. He needs you.”
I have no idea what this means, but my heart jumps back into my throat. Terrified by the unknown emergency, I follow Sick immediately.
He’s moving at a jog, so I keep up. “What’s happened? Is he… is he…”
The possibility of Levi being seriously hurt or killed drives our argument out of my mind completely. Honestly, I would live locked in my room for the rest of my life if I could be assured he was at least all right.
“Just come on.”
That doesn’t make any sense at all. None of this does. Including the fact that we’re not even jogging in the direction of the river. We’re jogging down the driveway.
“Wait!” I say, coming to a stop when I see my dad’s truck parked at the end of it. “What the hell is?—?”
I don’t get to complete my outraged question.
Because Sick turns toward me and aims a punch right at my face.
I’ve never been hit before. Not once in my entire life, other than childish slap fights with other girls in kindergarten.
The pain is real, but it’s not as dumbfounding as the shock. Theshock.
That I was hit. Somebody took his fist and slammed it into my face.
I double over, my vision and my brain blurring. Darkening.
Sick takes advantage of it to grab me, tie my hands with a zip tie, and wrap a strip of fabric around my mouth like a gag. It happens so fast that I’m fully disoriented when my vision clears and my ears stop ringing from the blow.
He drags me toward the truck, and I come back to my senses. I scream against the gag and pull away from him with all my strength.
He punches me in the stomach. I almost go down, but he manages to keep hold of me, forcing me into the floor of the passenger seat. There, he zip-ties my feet together and leaves me in a wheezing, squirming sprawl as he gets behind the wheel and drives the pickup right off the property.
He’s fucking kidnapping me! And no one is awake yet to know.
