Page 45 of Bitter Truth
Lowering my shoulder, I ram it into the man, using my momentum to slam him into the wall as I reach for the firearm with both hands. But my coordination is off, my movements too slow. His elbow catches me in the temple, right in the fluid-filled bruise left by the baseball bat.
I collapse to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. My vision goes in and out of focus. In, Worm staring at me in horror, his hands curled into fists against his mouth. Out, darkness. In, the sleeping bag where the girls had been, now empty. Out, darkness. In, a fist, letters I can’t read tattooed below each knuckle zooming toward my face. Then there’s nothing but the darkness.
CHAPTER 23
My pulsewhoosheslike a fetal monitor in my ears. The sound of it’s too loud, the force of it too hard. I shift, trying to alleviate the pressure, but everything hurts—my face, my head, my body… my heart. Even my thoughts.
I pray that the girls make it home safe because I’m really starting to doubt that a similar destiny is in my future. If it isn’t, I wonder how Jake will handle my loss.
It seems a silly thing to worry about as I lie here with the acrid taste of copper sharp in my mouth, the side of my face sticky with blood. Wincing as the floorboards tremble beneath my skull as Skunk paces the tiny room, waving a gun—my gun—around, making threats.
I peel one of my eyes open a slit to see who he’s talking to, but besides the two of us, no one’s here. I’m not sure how long I was unconscious. Or what I plan to do now that I’m not. I know I need to try and escape, but how? I suppose getting up would be a start.
I try to push myself up but can’t. My hands arebound. My whole body is, a length of rope coiled around me from my armpits to my ankles. The discovery takes the last little shred of hope I’d been holding on to and pulverizes it.
How can I get out of here if I can’t fight?
Heavy steps approach from outside. I’m not sure whether to pray for a miracle or yell for whoever it is to run as Skunk spins to face it, aiming my gun at the gap as it slowly opens. Worm appears at the threshold, a hangdog expression drawing his narrow face down, creating folds he’s far too young to have.
He lifts timid eyes as he admits, “I couldn’t find them.”
An angry roar fills the room. A bottle smashes against the wall, shards of glass flying across the shack, some of them pelting me as they land. I sneak a glance at the men, checking to see if either of them has realized I’m awake. They haven’t.
I roll slightly, tipping the debris off myself. Even that small movement causes a swell of nausea to rise inside me. I hold my breath as I fight it back, afraid that even the simple act of filling my lungs might be too much motion for me right now.
If I wasn’t concussed before, I know that I am now. But that’s okay. I can still do this. I just need to stay sharp.
And speaking of sharp… I stare at the chunk of glass on the floor beside me, trying to figure out how to get my hands on it. It’s only six inches away, but given the way I feel, it might as well be a mile.
“What do you mean you couldn’t find them?” Skunk shouts. “Where’d you look?”
“Everywhere.”
“Like? Tell me.”
“I ran all the way to the main trail, but I didn’t see a thing. Didn’t hear anything, either. So I doubled back, looped around the cabin a few times, searched all the brush, but there was no sign of them.”
I chance a small, shallow breath, feeling relieved. The girls must have climbed like I told them to.
“You.”
A worn pair of sneakers appears in front of my face. I try not to react and reveal that I’m conscious again but can’t help flinching when one of the shoes comes toward my face, the toe of it jabbing my forehead roughly.
“Where would they go?”
I swallow hard, trying to keep the balloon that I feel floating up my throat down.
The shoe shoves me again as Skunk yells, “Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bull.”
“I only met them today.”
Turning to Worm, he points at me. “Get her up.”
Worm looks at me nervously. “Why?”
