Page 50 of WITSEC
My heart accelerated to a speed so fast, I was afraid it’d give out. Panting, I turned to find Mr. X right behind me. I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow, hoping the neighbors would hear, and fell backward to the floor.
Mr. X dove with me, landing on top of me. I tried to fight him. I tried to get away. I was able to smack him across the face, which angered him. He let out a snarl, covered my face with his hand, and slammed the back of my head to the tile floor.
My vision went in and out. I didn’t feel myself being lifted off the floor or carried through the house. I started to really come to as Mr. X was carrying me up the stairs. We were almost back on the second floor. I started to wiggle and buck in his arms ashe reached the top of the stairs, so much so that he ended up dropping me with a frustrated growl.
I hit the carpet with a grunt. Before I could attempt to get away, Mr. X grabbed my ankles and began dragging me down the hall. I grabbed ahold of the corner of the wall trying to stop him. Mr. X yanked with what seemed like all his strength to force me to let go. My nails tore into the wallpaper as he continued dragging me. The towel I had wrapped around my arm fell off. I let out another pain-riddled scream, despite knowing that no one could hear me. That knowledge had been proven when our neighbors hadn’t come running to my earlier screams. Our houses were just too far apart.
I tried to kick my legs free, but Mr. X’s grip was too strong, and his steps didn’t slow. I was so focused on trying to grab ahold of anything that came into reach that I didn’t realize we were passing Shayla’s body until I felt something wet seep into the back of my clothes. At the sight of her pink hair, my throat closed, and I began choking on my sobs. I grabbed her hand as it came into reach, desperately hoping to find some flicker of life still left in her. When our eyes were level with each other, I saw hers were open and vacant.
“No!” ripped out of me. “Shayla!” I wailed, squeezing her hand as Mr. X continued to pull me away from her and into my bedroom.
As soon as we were in my room, Mr. X pulled me off the floor by my hair. My throat was so sore from screaming, all I could do was grit my teeth through the pain. He was trying to get me on my bed. I couldn’t let him do that. He’d rape me. I just knew he would.
The moment my feet were flat on the ground, I hit him, kicked him, and scratched him. He grunted a curse when I clawed his cheek.
His hand wrapped around my throat and squeezed. Digging my nails into his hand and wrist that held me, I tried to suck in what little air I could. His other hand appeared out of nowhere. I only got a glimpse of it before pain flared like lightning on the left side of my face and everything went black.
When I came to, I was alone and lying in the center of my bed. I went to rub my sore cheek and found that my wrist was caught on something. That was when I realized my wrists were tied with rope to my bed posts. As I tried to sit up, I realized my ankles were tied up as well.
Panic made my chest cave in, and I cried. Everything that had happened came crashing down on me. My parents were dead. Shayla…my lip trembled as I remembered her lifeless eyes.
I was alone.
I was all alone.
Chapter Fifteen
THAT NIGHT
It would have been soeasy to just give up—to just let him have me.
Bury it, Shiloh.Shayla’s voice filled my head.
I closed my flooded eyes. Tears spilled from them. Two chest-shaking, silent sobs escaped before I was able to take a deep breath. “Okay,” I whispered. I took another deep breath, and with that breath, I found the strength I needed to push back the pain and heartbreak.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself again and opened my eyes.
I shifted, scooted, and pushed with my heels to help me sit up against the headboard. The rope around my ankles went taut when I was about halfway to sitting all the way up. At least I wasn’t flat on my back, and I could see the door.
I tried tugging on the rope on my right wrist to test its strength. It was pretty strong. Mr. X was determined I wouldn’t escape. But I could twist my wrist within the rope tied around it. I tried to twist and pull to see if I could squeeze my hand out. It didn’t work. If only I could stretch out or wear down the rope somehow, I might be able to get free.
With that plan, I started twisting and pulling at all of my bindings, never removing my eyes from the door.
Twist. Twist. Pull.
That was the only thing that mattered. If I wanted to survive—to get free—it was all that could. The only thing that kept me company for what felt like hours was my fear.
At some point, blood slowly started to roll up my arms toward my elbows. My pillows were stained with dark red dots and down by the foot of the bed, beneath my ankles, were large copper blotches that had seeped into my gray comforter. The tan ropes tied around each of my wrists and ankles looked as if they had been dipped in red wine.
Twist. Twist. Pull.
I’d repeated that process over and over again—rubbing away my skin against the splintering rope as I did.
How long had it been since Mr. X had tied me to my bed and left me? He had brought me in here when it had still been dark outside. The sun was up now. It had been up for a while.
My eyes were glued to my open bedroom door, feeling as though Mr. X would appear at any moment. I tried not to let my eyes drift to the tips of Shayla’s white sneakers. He had slit her throat just outside my bedroom. Her body was still where she’d fallen. She was dead. There was no denying it now. I had tried to get help—tried to escape. But Mr. X had nailed the windows and doors. The only door I hadn’t tried was the front door. Mr. X had caught me before I could.
I had a feeling that was the only way out.
