Page 80 of Torment
I lower my head again, hiding the small breath I release.
Just a little longer. Just long enough.
Because somewhere in the back of my mind, beneath the concussion and the drugs and the fear, one thought keeps repeating itself.
Karson will find me. He always does.
Coming up to the ramp, Andy throws on his blinker and slowly pulls into the lot of the rest area, finding a spot right next to the bathrooms. Killing the engine, he unbuckles and producesa knife from his pocket. I flinch as he brings it toward me. His brows knit, and he pauses.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says carefully and gestures towards my zip tied hands. “Let me undo that.”
I watch him warily, slowly nodding my head. He carefully cuts the binding free, and I rub my wrist.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
God I couldn't think of anything worse.
“No, I’ll be okay,” I tell him softly. “Thank you.”
He nods, then exits his Bentley. He comes around to my side and opens the door for me, helping me stand from the seat. He tries to walk me a few feet to the door, but I gently shrug him off.
“I can do it,” I smile up at him. “I just need a minute.”
I need to put as much distance as I can between us, to buy myself some time to think clearly.
I walk gingerly to the bathroom, careful not to aggravate my injuries. Pushing the heavy door open is a chore, but I manage. Once inside, I let out a shaky, shallow breath and head for the handicap stall. It reeks of stale piss mixed with heavily scented floral soap. My stomach heaves as I step in and lock the door. I almost don't make it to the toilet.
Dropping to the cold tile, my arms wrap around the dirty metal toilet, and my body heaves. Bile burns my dry throat, and it feels like hot lava coming out. My ribs scream in agony with each heave. My head pounds as white-hot pain washes over my entire body. Reaching up, I flush the handle and sit back, trying to take in a calming breath. I grab some toilet paper to wipe my runny nose, and toss it in the toilet.
The retching in my stomach subsides, and I carefully stand and exit the stall. At the sink, I turn on the water, staring at myself in the mirror. A lump forms when I finally see just how badly Owen attacked me. Deep purple bruises surround the left side of my swollen face. Dried blood sticks in my eyebrows andmy hairline. I reach a shaky hand up and touch the laceration at the back of my head again, feeling one of the staples. My stomach churns again, and I drop it, then cup my hands under the faucet.
I let the water overflow my hands for what feels like an eternity, trying to think of a way out of this and away from Andy, but I’m not sure how. He’s right outside the door waiting, I’m sure, and the only windows in here are too high for me to reach. Even if I could, there’s no way I can physically get through one right now. Not when I’m this weak. I can’t even fucking walk on my own without it hurting, never mind escapingthis.
I hate being weak.
My shoulders deflate, and I lean in carefully to splash some water on my face. Resigned to the fact that I’m probably stuck with Andy, I turn the water off and reach for the paper towels. I gently blot my face dry. My head spins, and I brace myself against the cold, concrete wall. I rest my forehead against it, my eyes squeezed shut.
For a moment, everything is quiet. Then, tires screech outside and a car door slams shut. Voices follow, muffled through the bathroom walls, sharp and angry.
My head lifts. Another thud, then glass explodes echoing through the building. And then I hear shouting. Not Andy. Deeper. Angry. Familiar. My pulse stutters in my chest.
I take a couple of slow, cautious steps toward the door, and it bursts open. The metal bounces off the concrete behind it. Parker freezes for a half a second when she sees me, relief washing over her. Then, she moves.
“Ash,” she breathes. “We need to go. Now.”
She rushes over to me and gently wraps my arm around her shoulder, and hers across my lower back.
“I got you,” she looks over to me, making sure she isn’t hurting me. “You ready?”
I nod, wincing when we take the first step. She stops.
“No.” I motion toward the door. “I’m okay. Let’s go.”
Moving forward quickly, my eyes squeeze shut as I force myself to move through the pain. As we exit the bathroom, I open my eyes to see what’s happening.
Maverick and Karson are standing on the trunk of Andy’s car. Both men lean in through the shattered back windshield and yank Andy out of the back seat, dragging him through broken glass.
My feet keep moving as I watch them yank Andy across the trunk and toss him onto the pavement. Karson towers over his limp body, and fists his shirt.
