He looked around wildly. They needed to escape. The walls were thick gray stone. They were in what he assumed was a basement, but what felt like a mausoleum. It was cold and dim. There were no windows, and frail light shone dully from a solitary pendant on the wall. Muted music leaked weakly through the ceiling from somewhere above.
They were still in Jefferson’s house.
Katrina tried to cry out, but her sounds were muffled. She stared, wild-eyed with desperation, a pleading look which shattered his already broken heart. If he could get behind her, he might be able to untie her.
“Roll over,” he urged. It came out as “Urh uuv.”
She frowned, confused.
He began to rock his body, ignoring the stabbing sensation in his head, and he twisted onto his back. Now lying on his pinned hands, his weight squashed his wrists painfully, but he twisted his head to look at her and nodded.
She understood, nodding heryes, and rocked her body. She gritted her teeth. Her forehead screwed up. Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. The pain on her face was almost so unbearable he wanted to tell her to stop, but it was their only chance.
He pushed and rolled to his side once more. Now he had his back to her, and he waited until he heard her moan and knew she had done the same. He shuffled back, feeling with his fingertips until he found her fingers, soft and sweet. He heldthem, cherishing her touch. A small voice in his head told him to savor the moment, as if it might be the last time . . .
His heart constricted.No, he’d save her, even if it killed him.If they could get their hands free, they could untie their feet and mouths and escape.
Horror and fear for who and what awaited them forced him to move. He released her fingers and moved up her palms until he found her wrists and the ties. Twisting his hand awkwardly, grunting with effort, he pushed his fingers between the straps of her bound wrists, and pulled.
She let out a cry. He knew the ties would be cutting into her skin, but that was their only hope. If he couldn’t free her, whoever had tied them would come back and . . .
He gritted his teeth and pulled again. She made no noise. He knew she would be biting on the gag between her teeth. Panting, he tugged desperately at her straps.
The door creaked open. Light slithered into the room. He froze. The sound of the music grew louder. His heart boomed, emphasizing the pain in his head as he looked up at the silhouette of a man looming over them like a monster.
Fear cramped his throat, his chest, his mouth.
In the light, a silver glint, sharp and cold. The man bent down. He recognized him.
“Hello, Robert.” The man smirked. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite a pickle.”
“Bastard!” he cried out.
“Yes,” the man said, “but you’ve forced my hand.”
He caught the glint of the needle right before he felt a sharp pain sting his neck. His vision dimmed, the room swiveled, and?—
*
Katrina woke, disoriented, in the darkness, and she couldn’t make out anything. Her head felt like glass shards, shattered into pieces. Pain slammed inside her skull with each beat of her heart, and a wave of sickness rushed through her body. She heard herself whimper before she swallowed down the bile in her throat.
For a long moment she was displaced. Was it all a dream? No, that didn’t explain the pain—dreams weren’t painful. They woke you with a thumping heart and sweating in fear, but never in pain. This was something else.
Panic whispered through her chest, filling her like dark smoke, a fear she couldn’t explain.
She searched inside her mind for memories. The party, but what then?What then?She didn’t know. She shook her head slowly, trying to clear the haze. The beat in her head increased, like fast struck drums. The agony was unbearable.
Outside, the wind howled, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
She turned her head gingerly to the side.Robert.He sat beside her in the driver’s seat of their car, his head slumped, his breathing ragged, but even.Was he asleep?Why was he asleep? How did they get into their car? They were at the party and then . . . nothing.
She tried to call out his name, but it came out breathy and barely audible. She swallowed and tried again.
He didn’t move. She needed him to wake up. She needed to hear his voice and tell her everything would be okay.She needed him.
When they first met, Robert was the bad boy who came from the wrong side of the tracks, and he was always in trouble for one thing or the other. She came from wealth, she was a good girl, the school sweetheart. They were like night clashing with day.
The first words he ever said to her echoed in her head.‘You know if you keep walking around with a stick up your ass, you’re going to snap.’
