Page 62 of Stolen

He loosened his grip on my throat again to allow me to speak, but all I ended up doing was taking a giant gasp of air. My heart was in full panic mode, knowing my answer would not please him. Because if I said yes, he would know I was lying. This was a fucking trap, and an incredibly unfair one at that.

“Answer me,” he snapped, making me jerk slightly.

“No, I wouldn’t have listened.”

Even though he was nearly two heads taller than me and all I could see was his chest, I knew the fucker was smiling.

“Helplessness must be so foreign to you.” He snickered above me. “But sometimes...it just looks so cute on you.”

Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

I didn’t respond, hoping to discourage any further interaction. I just wanted him to let me go so I could get away from him. Yes, helplessness was foreign to me, and no one made me feel more helpless than him.

I fucking hated him for it.

“Take her back to her cage,” he finally ordered, releasing my throat and stepping back.

Darting out from the wall, I avoided the owner’s eyes as I nearly forced the guard to catch up with me to the elevator. I was so done playing this dangerous game with him. It was time to officially bow out.

18

A Message

The subsequent days were met with silence and sleep, marking the moment I finally lost track of how long we’d been stuck in this fucking hellhole. Everyone was just too beaten down, too exhausted to put up any semblance of an objection or complaint. There was no more singing, no more humming, just the sounds of quiet crying as heavy footsteps echoed in the background.

I just focused on keeping to myself until the shit show was finally over. I figured the best thing I could do for everyone at this point was to just sleep as often as I could. At least then I couldn’t even be awake enough to cause anyone any more trouble. But even in my exhaustion, actual sleep was hard to come by when you were trying to avoid another difficult reality.

The crushing anxiety of what my family must be going through in my absence fucking hurt like hell. The doubt I had in their ability to find me diminished any sense of optimism I had. I didn’t know if there was security footage from my kidnapping, but I was sure it wasn’t clear enough to make out the faces of the guards, and they probably had already tossed the license plate from the van. The biggest problem was that I didn’t even know where the fuck I was. I could be halfway around the world and not even realize it, which would make getting back home so much more difficult.

God, I missed my family so much. I wanted to hold my mom and tell her everything was okay; that I was back and the people who hurt me were gone. I wanted to sock both of my brothers in the shoulders for even thinking that I might not come back. I wanted to sit on the beach with Jordan, sip on a Captain and Coke, and tell her all about how I got my revenge against the fucks who stole me. But most of all, I wanted to feel Jason in my arms again. I wanted to show him how much I loved him every second of every day until we were both old and gray.

I reflected on all the times I had trained with him, sparred and wrestled with him, successfully getting him to tap out even though he didn’t want to. He was always so proud of me when I finally beat him because he was relieved to know that if I could handle someone of his size, I could handle others. Jason didn’t go easy on me either, but then again, he was never really trying to hurt me to begin with. Maybe that was where we screwed up. Maybe we didn’t take it seriously enough. Or maybe I was fucked no matter what. I knew I was strong, knew I was capable, but I wasn’t Superwoman. I couldn’t take on the whole world, but goddamn if I wasn’t going to try.

I often found myself waking up in the middle of the night, a cold sweat covering my body as I silently wept from how much I missed Jason. I was terrified I would never see him again, and as each day passed, the tough pieces of my weakening heart would shatter a little more. I wanted to be strong for him. I wanted to survive for him, but the constant reminder of the amount of control I had over this hellish situation made it so difficult to remain hopeful.

As my thoughts settled on my family, my body shuddered as I realized there was a chance I might never get to do what I so desperately wanted to do. The future that I had worked so hard to build was being robbed from me as well as my family. They wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rewards of my hard work like I wanted them to. My whole life was built on making something of myself, of giving back, of helping those in need, yet now I was the one in need of help.

And then my thoughts lingered on someone I hadn’t thought about in years—my dad. I hated thinking about him and often tried not to because it only brought me pain. He was everything to me as a child. When others said I couldn’t, he made sure I could. When others saw me as weak, he made me prove them wrong. And when others told me no, he taught me how to make them regret it. And when cancer finally took him from me, I hated him for it. I hated him for leaving me, for making me think he was strong enough to last forever, but like so many others before him, he had lost his battle and shriveled away into nothing. It was so hard to watch my father shrink into a shell of the man he used to be. But even though his physical appearance dwindled, his mind remained strong. Strong until the very end.

If only he could see me now, I was sure he’d be disappointed. When I finally escaped this place, I would make damn sure I made him proud then. I had to stay positive. I had to stay strong. So Icouldmake my father proud.

“Thank you,” Kayla said suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

Looking over at her from where I laid in my cage, I furrowed my brows. “For what?”

“For staying strong. For being who you are in spite of everything we’ve been through.”

I cocked a brow at her. “Well, that was random.”

She shifted. “I was just thinking about my family. And how much worse this would be if I were alone in it. I know this sounds awful, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”

I shrugged, not wanting to dwell on it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who’s kept me going this whole time.”

“Come on,” she chided.

I sighed, not preferring to get emotional, but sometimes people needed to know when they were important. When they made a difference. “I’m serious, Kayla. I couldn’t be more grateful to have a person like you stuck in a cage next to me.”

“Well, thanks.” She smiled. “But I seriously think I’m the luckier one.”

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