Dean is the quiet to my loud. He’s the calm to my recklesswaters, the softness to my sharp edges and my body is aching to fall into him, to feel my home again.
The rumbling of the vans engine seems to quiet down as we come to a stop, causing my body to jolt forward for a second at the abrupt halt. Immediately the doors swing open to let in a cold whoosh of air that has my skin pebbling under the flimsy, tattered robe that’s hardly providing any protection from the elements. Blinding light fills the interior of the van as one of Ricky’s guards shines his torch inside, the high beam brushes over each of us and I can just about clock five other girls in here with me, the older woman who was speaking to me before is sitting at the side of me, her hand still resting on my shoulder.
Once the guard has shone his torch into each of our faces, he begins to pull out the first girl who is closest to the door. I watch as she scrambles on her feet before landing harshly on the sharp stones that I can see, covering the floor.
The same gravel that covers the ground near the mill, the mill that’s only a couple of minutes away from my white picket fence home. My gilded cage of horrors.
I’m home, and it’s not the home I want to be at.
The girl winces from the sharp rocks that cut into her bare feet as she’s pulled away, then the guard grabs the next girl, the routine never changing until he finally reaches me. His large hand wraps around my bicep and I swear I can feel the frail bones snapping under the pressure.
“I can’t walk!” I snap out the moment he tries to pull me up onto my feet. “I’ve been sho-”
“I couldn’t give a single fuck.” The guard speaks through gritted, yellow teeth that are inches away from my face. “If you can’t walk, you’ll crawl.”
My eyes bug wide at his words and immediately I’m shovedto my knees with force, the glass like stones piercing the skin of my knee caps, causing me to wince from the added pain. The half wrapped bullet wound on my leg begins to throb again as I drag myself across the stones, my fingers digging into the dirt underneath, collecting it under my fingernails.
Heavy footsteps appear at the side of me and I keep my gaze trained to the floor.
“C’mon doggy, get a move on!” The guard taunts before breaking out into a heavy laugh, coaxing the others to join in with their own sickening taunts. Degrading me like I’m nothing but shit on their shoes. The cocking of a gun has my head snapping up to see one of the guards aiming straight at the woman who sat beside me in the van.
“Don’t even fucking bother trying to help this bitch. I’ll paint this floor with your brain.” His threat hits her heavily and she begins to back away again, I can’t even blame her for wanting to protect herself. It’s every person for themselves in a situation like this, I should have realised that. I got Emily killed, and that’s something I have to live with now.
With each movement across the sharp stones, the wound on my leg leaks with blood and the cuts on my knees get deeper and I swear I’ve never felt embarrassment like it, to be degraded so disgustingly. The anger that’s coursing through my bloodstream has me clenching my teeth together in a vice-like grip until my jaw begins to ache.
The guard’s boots scrape across the loose gravel as he practically walks me like a dog towards the gaping mouth of the abandoned mill. “You’re such a good puppy aren’t you?” He coos with a sickening tone in his voice and I have to bite my tongue to stop me from firing out the words I so desperately want to say.
That my fingers are itching to tear his face away from his skull,to grip his voice box in my hands and squeeze it until nothing but silence can be heard from him. To shove that gun he’s carrying, so far down his throat that I’d be able to blow his insides to smithereens.
The horrific thoughts frighten me for a split second, they’re such a forbidden feeling to me but with the limits that I’m being pushed to, the things that I’ve had to endure, I’d say my thoughts are pretty fucking valid.
Soft cries and whimpers fill my eardrums as I cross the threshold of the mill, a faint smell of oil lingers in the air mixing with the pungent smell of damp and death. I daren’t lift my head yet, too ashamed to face everyone else and I might just end up with another wound to add to the already large list if I push my boundaries. The palms of my hands sting and I can already feel the rocks from the floor, embedding themselves into my knees with every move.
Keeping my head down, my once rich onyx locks that are now dirty and flat cover my face, shielding my view. But I don’t need my eyesight to know that my fuckinghusbandhas graced us with his presence. The sounds of the girls and women sobbing in fear tells me the moment he arrives.
“Welcome to your new home ladies, I hope that you’ll find your stay here very pleasant, well, as pleasant as can be.” Ricky laughs.
Sarcasm spills through his toxic lips and I recoil at his words. Ricky has always been a joker, thriving off humour and at one point, I loved that about him. He always wanted to make me laugh but now, I wish I could rip his tongue from his mouth just to shut him up.
Polished leather shoes land in my line of vision but I refuse to lift my head, to give him the satisfaction of me bending tohis rules. I’ll break before I ever fold to him again. The silence is almost deafening as I keep my head down, my limbs shaking from holding the same position.
“Aren’t you going to look at your husband?” He says and I already know he’s tipping his head to the side, waiting for an answer, his stormy eyes glaring but I’m not going to give it to him. Yeah, this’ll probably get me into more trouble and land more abuse onto me but I’m done.
I’m so fucking done.
If Dean can’t be the one to get me out of here, then I’ll do it for myself. I’ll get back to him. I escaped once, and I’ll do it again. I’ll fight with everything I have until the very end.
Thismanstanding before me will never lay claim on me ever again.
“I see we’re going down the silent treatment route. That’s fine by me Annabelle, but don’t ever fuck with me.”
Ricky’s words are the last thing I hear before the rubber sole of a boot lands with a heavy force at the side of my head, sending my vision spinning. Blackness threatens the edge of my vision. My arms and knees buckle beneath me, leaving me to fall with a thud onto the harsh stones, the edges cutting into the side of my face as I succumb to the darkness.
Lyla snaps her teeth in the seat in the back of my Raptor, her tactical vest filled with spare ammo for myself and Eli. She’s been going stir crazy at home, pacing the floors and whining at the front door until she falls asleep. It’s breaking my heart everyday seeing her like that, so I knew the moment we were heading to the prison, I needed to bring her with me. She’ll help us sniff out Ana and bring her home.
“Either Ricky’s driver is an absolute idiot or he’s a newby, leaving the location of the prison on the SatNav in the van. It was almost comical when I scoured through it.”
Eli shakes his head at the side of me, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop that’s resting on his knees.
