Page 3 of Journey To Sunrise

I tried to stay quiet. Tried so hard. But the fourth blow ripped a scream from my throat that seemed to go on forever.

“Please stop!” Maddie sobbed through the phone.

“Five more minutes of this, or three hours to get the passports. Your choice.”

I couldn't hold back anymore. Each hit brought sounds I didn't know I could make. The other girls were crying. Someone threw up. And through it all, Quinn kept that phone close to my face, making sure Evie heard everything.

“Seven minutes down,” Quinn announced. “She's tough, your sister. Most people pass out by now.” He paused. “Ed, come hold the phone so I can do this right.”

It’s going to get worse? Please Evie, save me.

My vision swam. I wanted to pass out. Begged for it. But my body wouldn't let me escape.

“You know what's beautiful about this?” Quinn's voice stayed calm between blows. “She's suffering because she loves you. Every hit she takes is because she won't let us hurt these other girls to get to you. Noble, really.” The beating continued. Systematic. Calculated. Not meant to kill, just to break. And through it all, that phone stayed live, broadcasting my destruction to my sister.

“Thirteen minutes,” Quinn finally said. “I think that's enough of a preview.”

“Three hours, Evie. Or we do this again. And again. And again.”

“It’s a trap, Evie, don’t come.” I gasped out.

Quinn roared with laughter. “She’ll come.”

The last blow sent me into blessed darkness, but not before I heard Maddie screaming my name and Quinn's satisfied laugh.

Chapter One

Chloe

I pushed up from my chair after sitting at my computer. My hand and back hurt. It didn’t make any sense. Why was it dark out? I’d just sat down to play a game of Candy Crush that morning. I would have played on my phone, but I kept forgetting to charge it.

I stumbled and grabbed the dining room chair for support. My leg had fallen asleep. I looked at the clock over the stove.

“Oh God.”

Ten hours had passed. If I hadn’t been thirsty, I would still be playing on the computer. I reached the kitchen, flipped on the lights, and winced. When was the last time I’d done dishes? My shoulders slumped. Did it matter?

I saw the plastic bag of Solo cups and reached for one, then filled it up with water from the fridge. I gulped down the water. Why did my mouth hurt? I reached up and touched my dry lips. Were they cracked?

I added the cup to the pile near the sink and headed towards the bathroom, touching my sore lip. When I turned on the light and looked in the mirror, I leaned forward and stared for a long time.

“Who are you?” I croaked out the question. It hurt to speak.

I lifted my hand to my face. It looked wrong. Pale. Thin. My cheekbones were knife sharp and there were dark bruises under my eyes. My eyes looked dead.

“Answer me, dammit! Who are you?” I yelled.

Dank brown hair moved as I leaned forward toward the mirror, revealing a scar on my forehead.

Time stopped.

I was back in that cabin, my friends tied and whimpering on the floor near my feet. I felt that first blow from the man’s meaty fist as it hit my cheek. I’d been surprised. Then I realized he wanted me to hurt, wanted me to scream. He kept shouting at me to scream into the cell phone as he hit me over and over, punch after punch. Splitting open the skin of my forehead with his ring. So much pain, so much blood.

Now the brown eyes in front of me weren’t empty, they were scared, my irises surrounded by white. I saw that face in the mirror whimper with fear.

I picked up the brush on the bathroom counter and hit the face in the mirror.

Again.