Page 132 of Forged in Rain

Fuck me.

With the beam of the light moving almost in slow motion, I hold my breath until it reaches the last corner of the room before sagging. What am I going to do if they’re not here?

Turning to me, Cyn grabs my cheeks and says quietly, “Wait here.”

I glance behind him to the dark hallway before nodding my head. The pulse in my throat flutters wildly and clenching my hand to ground myself, I watch as they disappear, Jig’s light casting eerie shadows on the walls before it’s gone altogether.

Now that I’m alone, the darkness presses in around me, and even though it’s never bothered me before, with the specter of John, I’m decidedly freaked out.

“Calm down,” I mutter, spinning in a circle.

The soft glow of the moon outside the door beckons me, and I step onto the threshold, exhaling quietly. The minutes tick by and I tap my fingers against my jeans, counting the seconds in my head. How long does it take to search a room or two? Did they find something? What are they not saying?

Fuck. Stepping forward, I hesitate at the threshold, but a rustling sound brings me around, and I jump when something crackles, like twigs breaking in the dense trees.

Backing up a single step, I search the darkness, but of course, I can’t see a fucking thing. The low rumble of the guys speaking to each other reaches me and I exhale shakily, turning toward the sound, only to pause when the rustling starts up again.

Ice skitters down my stiff spine, and I search the area again, sucking in a breath when a figure steps out of the trees.

“Cyn,” I whisper, but it’s too low for him to possibly hear.

The figure wobbles forward, weaves in place before hunching over and I gasp when they say, “Blayyyy?”

The words are garbled, and I cock my head to the side, trying to make sense of it. “What?”

“Blayyy?”

“I don’t understand,” I say, glancing behind me, but I still don’t see the guys. What the fuck are they doing?

“Blay . . . nn . . . y.”

The inflection, although slurred, sounds like my mom and I take a single step forward, holding out my hand. “Mom?”

The figure raises its head and I pause because the person staring back at me isn’t my mom, but then she mumbles, “Rayyyy.”

“Mom!” Rushing forward, I stumble over the dirt, my brain unable to process what I’m seeing. She’s covered in blood, but her head is misshapen, her features out of place. She sways on her feet before collapsing to the ground, and I drop before her, wrapping my arms around her shivering form.

“Oh god, Mom,” I sob, and she raises her head.

Up close, I see what I couldn’t piece together before. She’s been beaten so badly that the side of her head is concave, making the features I love so dearly askew on her face.

“Bloey,” she says, and I try to smile through the horror scalding my spine.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, hugging her tighter.

She shakes her head and groans before saying again. “Bloey.”

“What? Um, J-joey?” I sag under her weight when she collapses and gently lower her to the ground. “Mom? Mom?”

For a moment, I’m sure she’s dead, but she gasps out a breath and opens her eyes. The hazel hue blazes at me before she closes them once more. Bowing my head, I stifle a sob, acknowledging that it’s possible she won’t live through this.

Focus. Sucking in a breath, I look up into the trees, foolishly hoping that Joey will appear if I just will it so. Is he out there? Where?

The guys are still inside the cabin. What the fuck are they doing?

“Unnh,” Mom whimpers. Turning to her, I pull off my sweatshirt and place it under her head.

I can’t imagine the pain she must be experiencing, and it hurts my fucking soul to watch. Is she dying? Shit.

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