Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
That sort of thing makes people very uncomfortable, Josie. Very uncomfortable. No one wants to think about it.
Yeah, she didn’t either. Who wanted to confront the fact that monsters existed? That they could walk right past you on the street—or in your own apartment building—and you’d never know until they decided to strike? But Josie thought about it—she didn’t have a choice.
Finally, she stood, climbing the stairs to the second floor where she entered the bedroom at the far end of the hall. She was alone in the house, but she still engaged the three locks she’d installed on the heavy wood door. Her heart calmed, breaths coming more easily. She walked to the desk where she had three bulletin boards hung above it on the wall, every inch of them covered with the research she’d been conducting for the past eight years.
Her gaze moved from one thing to the other—lists, articles, addresses, every scrap of anything that might eventually lead her to her son. She closed her eyes, picturing her baby boy, the way he’d gazed up at her, eyes innocent and trusting. And she made the same vow to him then that she’d made to him in the room of the abandoned warehouse, where their screams had mingled as she’d pushed him into the world: I will never stop fighting for you.
Chapter Three
Before
Josie shrank back from his touch, but there was nowhere to go. The cold cement met her back, her chains clinking as they hit the floor. “What do you want?” she asked, managing to hold back the sob that was filling her chest, her throat.
His hand paused momentarily before resuming movement, his knuckle running over her cheek. “What do I want?” he repeated, sounding truly thoughtful. “Hmm. Everything, I s-suppose. Do you think you can give me that, J-Josie?”
“I don’t understand.” She did sob then, a pitiful sound of terror that she tried desperately to control. If she lost it, she feared she’d never be able to stop crying, screaming, begging. And she needed to try to get him to let her go. Engage him, appeal to his humanity if he had any.
“I know you don’t. But you will. I’ll m-make sure you do.”
“Please,” she implored. “I haven’t seen your face. I don’t know who you are,” she lied. “Let me go, and you won’t be in trouble. I couldn’t give a description even if I wanted to. I could pass you on the street and never know who you are.”
He let out a soft exhale that sounded like a laugh, though she couldn’t see his expression under the ski mask. He moved closer. “You won’t know my f-face, Josie, or who I am, but you will know me.” He leaned forward and rubbed his masked face over hers. She whimpered with fear. She could bite him, try to head-butt him. But she was chained up. He had the upper hand. She’d only anger him, and then he’d hit her again, or worse. “You’ll know me well,” he whispered, his hand sliding down the waistband of her sleep shorts.
Oh God. Bile moved up her throat, and she let out a strangled sob. Not that. Please not that.
“You don’t want it, Josie? Don’t want to be f-fucked like a whore? Why not? You let those other men d-do it. I’ve watched you. W-watched you take them home. Watched them leave in the m-morning with not more than a wave over their shoulders, not m-more than a thanks for the m-memories, you cheap slut. Even the one with a w-wife. I’ve n-noticed the tan line on his ring finger. You m-must have s-seen it too. You’re not very discriminating, are y-you? Cheap. You’re so f-fucking cheap.” He was talking fast, his breathing harsher. Josie clenched her eyes shut, forcing her sobs back, willing herself to get it together. Stay calm.
He pulled off her shorts with a grunt. She sobbed, yanking at her shackles uselessly, letting her head fall back against the cement wall behind her with a jarring thud. She clenched her eyes shut when she heard his zipper, her sobs turning to wails. “Am I d-different than them, Josie? Not g-good enough for you? Why? Is it b-because I see who you are? Is that why, J-Josie? Did you not wear these r-red panties for me, you slut?” He ripped her underwear and used his knee to part her thighs. She clenched her teeth as he penetrated her, moving fast, his grunts loud against her ear, the fabric of his ski mask soaking up her tears. “This is what you w-want, isn’t it? I’m just g-giving you what you l-like,” he panted.
When he came, it was in silence.
Her soul died quietly too.
She didn’t look—couldn’t look—as he pulled himself off her, standing, the sound of his zipper loud in the otherwise quiet, empty room. There was a crack on the ceiling. It reminded her of a lightning strike. She wished it would strike her down. Why me? she wondered dazedly. Why had she wished to be struck down, instead of wishing for him to be hit by a molten spear of electricity? Interesting. She’d just been raped. He was the one who needed to be punished. And yet she was the one who wanted to die.