Stay (3 page)

The liquid burned as it absorbed into my muscle. Still unable to breathe, the noise that tried to come from my throat was pathetic and weak. Zane let go of my neck and moved his hands to my arms, pinning them to my side. He kept his blue eyes locked on mine.
 

My legs began to feel heavy and my movements slowed. Zane chuckled and let me go. He tipped his head and ran his fingers down my arm, stopping at my wrist. His skin was soft and smooth, and his touch was deliberately gentle. He circled his thumb over the palm of my hand in slow movements. With his other hand, he fingered the hem of my tank top for a few seconds before slipping his hand under it. His eyes closed when he slowly dragged his hand up over my stomach.

Hot tears fell from the corners of my eyes. His skin against mine was revolting. Black dots clouded my fuzzy vision. His fingertips reached the base of my bra and he hesitated, enjoying the buildup he was creating for himself. He pushed his hand up, groaning when his fingers curled around my breast. Unable to scream, a muted whimper escaped my lips. I fought against my heavy eyelids. Zane licked his lips and pinched my nipple in between his index finger and thumb.
 

My eyes shut. I was so tired and weak. I tried opening my eyes again and failed. The last thing I remembered was Jackson’s voice, though I couldn’t recall what he had said. His deep brown eyes flashed before me until the vision faded. And then he was just a voice in the dark.

CHAPTER THREE

THE NEXT TIME I woke up, I was lying on a cement floor. Everything was dark again. My body hurt, though I wasn’t sure why. I pulled my legs up and rested my head on my knees. And then the memories came rushing back at a dizzying rate.
 

The parade. I could still hear the distant beating of drums and cheering. The sun was still warm on my skin, and I could still smell Lynn’s perfume.
 

I cried out and doubled over when a throbbing pain shot through my head. My hands smacked against the gritty floor. My cheeks burned and my body went rigid as I retched.

The girl in the alley. Why had I stopped to help her? Her despairing face flashed into my mind. If only I had recognized the fear in her eyes, maybe I could have gotten away. I shook my head.
No
. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t kidnap me. She didn’t inject me with something that made me black out.

It was those two guys. Zane, with the clear blue eyes, and Jackson, with his dark wavy hair hiding his face. It was their fault. They did this. They took me, forced me into a car trunk, and drugged me. And now I had no idea where I was. Fear sunk its claws into me. I squeezed my eyes shut. This wasn’t happening. This was a dream, a horrible dream. And I would wake up any second.

Oh, God.
I straightened up when the memory of Zane groping me pushed its way into my consciousness. I knew he had fondled my breasts. I was still awake for that. What had he done once I was out? I began crying uncontrollably at the thought.

I shook my head.
 
I had to keep it together. I forced out a shaky breath and moved my hand to my waist. My fingers went numb and I fumbled with the button on my shorts. Finally, I popped them open and yanked down the zipper. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it pounding in my head. A lump of vomit burned in my throat. I pushed my fingers inside the shorts.

I was still wearing my underwear. A tiny bit of relief washed over me. And then I realized that I felt no pain between my legs. I had not been raped. My shoulders relaxed just a hair. I zipped up my shorts and looked around in the dark.
 

My heart fluttered when I saw soft light outlining a door. My breath rushed in and out of me and my body trembled. I put my hands out in front of me and took a tentative step forward. I slid my shoes along the floor, afraid of tripping over something, until I reached the door. I ran my hands up the splintering wood until they found the doorknob, which was covered in peeling paint.

“Hello?” I croaked, my throat dry. Though I already knew it was a feeble attempt at best, I twisted the knob. It turned. A desperate surge of hope flowed through me. I moved my wrist, waiting for the click. But it never came. The knob was loose. It moved in a complete circle but did nothing to open the door. I pushed against it and discovered a deadbolt lock on the opposite side. “Hello,” I spoke again a little louder, afraid of who might answer.

A sliver of light poured in through an old fashioned keyhole. I leaned forward and peered through it. I was fairly certain I was in a basement from the musty smell. Cots with blankets neatly folded at the foot were lined up along the wall across from the little room I was in.
 
A card table and four folding chairs were in the center of the room. A stack of papers and a tipped over plastic cup sat on its surface.
 

The scent of unwashed hair, body odor, and urine hung heavy in the air. I sniffled back tears and turned my head. Something dark flashed in front of me. Startled, I sharply inhaled and leaned away from the door. My heart pounded in my ears. I forced myself to take a breath and move my face to the keyhole once more. A green eye stared back at me. My heart skipped a beat and my nerves prickled down my spine.
 
I pushed myself away, landing on my butt.
 

I looked at the door. “Hello?” I whispered. “Help me, please,” I blurted. Whoever was outside the door tapped the knob. “Please,” I begged. “Help me.”

“I can’t,” a heavily accented female voice whispered back. “I sorry,” she went on. “You try to help me and you get taken. So sorry.” Emotion weighed on her tone. She sniffled as if she was crying.
 

“Just let me out,” I pleaded. “Please!” My voice broke and I started crying. “I just want to go home. Please!”

She got up, shuffling her feet. I flew back to the door only to see a trail of black hair as she turned and ran. I heard her run up a set of stairs and a door slam shut. Then everything was quiet again. I sank back down to the floor and put my head in my hands, biting my lip to curb my tears.
 

My body was numb, yet it screamed in pain. I clamped a hand over my left bicep where the needle had driven into my skin and rubbed at the dull ache. My head throbbed, and the rest of me was sore all over, no doubt from being jostled around in a car trunk for God knows how long.
 

I scrambled to my feet and wrapped my hands around the rusty doorknob. I rattled it and shoved against the door. When it didn’t so much as budge, I stood back and kicked at it until my foot grew sore.
 

Panting, I drew back and stretched my hands out, half afraid of what I might find. The room I was in was no bigger than a closet. All four walls were cement. The ceiling was too high for me to reach. Not knowing what else to do, I sat in the middle of the room, hugging my knees to my chest, and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more. The pale light that filtered in from under the door was turning gold. I had to go to the bathroom, bad. I moved to the keyhole and watched, hoping somebody, anybody, would come back down the stairs. My stomach grumbled, though I was so sick with fear I doubted I could eat if a feast was laid out in front of me. I sat with my back against the door and nervously fiddled with my necklace. I closed my fingers around the silver heart and gently pulled on it. Arianna wore one identical to mine, except her center stone was a different color. Mine sported a diamond, while hers had a less fancy pearl. They were our birthstones, and the necklaces had been given to us by our parents on our thirteenth birthdays. Arianna had just gotten hers last year.
 

I watched the light disappear from the outline of the door as the sun set. I was trapped. I felt like I was suffocating, like the walls of the tiny room were closing in on me. Silence rang in my ears. Being choked made my throat burn on each exhale, and swallowing was like daggers dragging down my esophagus. I desperately wanted a glass of water, but just thinking of water reminded me of how badly I needed to urinate. I squeezed my legs shut and pulled on the door knob again, trying to break it loose until my bladder protested in pain, forcing me to get up and move to the farthest corner of the small room, pull down my pants and squat on the floor.

Feeling ashamed and humiliated, I went back to the door, focusing on removing the doorknob. I wrapped both hands around it and pulled again for good measure. Something cracked, sparking a tiny flame of hope. I pulled again, and the base of the knob loosened.

I yanked it back and jammed my fingers into the splintery hole and twisted a screw. Half of the knob clattered to the ground outside the door. I froze, holding my breath. But no one came. I pulled the other end toward me, feeling a sense of satisfaction when the rust covered oval fell into my hands. I quickly fiddled with the only screw I had managed to salvage and stuck it in my back pocket.
 

I ran my fingers around the knob, envisioning it in my hand, since I couldn’t actually see it in the dark. I held it tightly, imagining using it to hit Zane or Jackson in the face if I ever saw them again. I held on to that vision of attacking my attackers, replaying it in my mind, over and over. The fear of not knowing what was going to happen to me ate away at my stomach. Bile burned in my throat but I had nothing to come up.
 

Why did they take me? What did they want? If they were going to kill me, why hadn’t they done so already? The fact that I was still alive brought on more terror. What were they going to do to me? I thought about the girl in the alley. What happened to her? Was she the person they were going back for?

I twisted the knob over and over in my hands and rested my head against the door. I closed my eyes and then opened them, feeling too vulnerable. I shook my head at the thought. It was too dark to see anything anyway. Even though I had explored the tiny closet, I couldn’t let go of the fear that someone was in there with me. Images of villains from horror movies flashed through my mind, but they all fell short when I remembered Zane’s pretty blue eyes. They were so captivating, so beautiful, but held back animalistic rage.
 

A door opened and slammed shut above me. Muffled voices floated through vents in the floor. I pushed myself up on my knees, the concrete biting at my bones, and pressed my ear to the hole where the doorknob used to be. Not knowing who was above me was terrifying. Was it Zane and Jackson again? Maybe Zane was coming to finish what he had started. My teeth chattered as I tried not to cry.

I knelt down and peered out the small hole where the doorknob used to be. Something crawled across my neck. My hand flew up, slapping my skin and squishing a spider.
 
I hated spiders. In a panic, I flicked my hand away from me. A shiver went up my back and I felt like bugs were crawling all over my body. I ran my hands through my hair, expecting to find it full of insects.
 

“God, please help me,” I prayed. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to church yesterday. Or the week before that…and the week before that one too…and every Sunday that I was at school. Please, let me get out of here alive.”

Footfalls came from the stairs. I ducked down, away from the keyhole. My fingers tightened on the knob and my legs ached with anticipation as I played out the plan of attack in my mind.

“He asked for you, girl,” a female voice spoke. The lights flicked on. “You must’ve made an impression on him.” She had a thick Brooklyn accent, which was out of place in Iowa.
 

Whomever she was talking to laughed. “I’m telling you, Rochelle, after what I did for him tonight he will
always
be asking for me.”

“What did you do?” Rochelle asked. I silently rose up and peered out of the hole. Two females sat on one of the small cots. The girl who was called Rochelle had her back to me. She was wearing a backless dress, something so revealing I would never be allowed to leave the house in. She brought her legs up under her and I caught a glimpse of her four-inch, hot pink stilettos. “Come on, girl, tell me!” she urged and flicked her black hair behind her back. A dozen gold bangles jingled on her wrist.

“Well,” the other girl started and kicked off her platform shoes. “He made me … ” she trailed off, her voice faltering. Then she leaned forward and whispered something to Rochelle. When she leaned back, I saw her face and was shocked at how young she looked. She was pretty: strawberry blonde hair that fell in perfect ringlets around her flawless face and striking blue eyes. I guessed her only to be the same age as Arianna.
 

Rochelle laughed. “You better have charged more for that.”

The redhead smiled and nodded. I was suddenly aware of just how fast my heart was beating. I pressed a hand over my chest, scared they would hear the pounding. My breath came and left my lungs, but I felt like I was getting no oxygen. Part of me didn’t understand what they were talking about. That part of me didn’t
want
to understand what they were talking about.
 

“Nate likes me, right?” she meekly asked Rochelle.

“Of course he does,” Rochelle promised her. “I think Nate will be—” she abruptly cut off when the redhead grabbed her arm. “What the hell, Lily?”
 

Lily shook her head and held a finger to her lips. Her eyes were focused on the closet door.
 

“Shit,” Rochelle swore. “What the hell happened to the door?”

“Is there someone in there?” Lily asked, her tone teetering on fear and excitement. “Hey, anyone in there?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I took a breath and tried again. “Help me,” I croaked.
 

Lily screamed and Rochelle grabbed her wrist. “No. Leave it alone. Zane will fill us in about her in the morning.”

Lily’s blue eyes widened and terror pulled down her cheeks. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head, snapping back into the smiling girl she was just seconds ago. “Okay. I’m, like, really tired anyway.”

“I’ll say,” Rochelle said with a laugh.