“No bullshit,” they echo.
The SUV hums to the left, tires biting into the night.The GPS ticks down: five minutes.Four.Three.
I feel a gravity in my gut that’s older than fear and harder than anger.
It’s a promise.
A line in the dirt I don’t cross lightly.
“Lil Bit,” I whisper to the dark windshield, to the radio, to the men.But to myself I add something.
I’m coming for you, Lil Bit.And there’s nothing in the goddamn world I won’t do to bring you home.
Chapter 36-Bit
It all happens so fast.
I mean, really freaking fast.
One minute I’m trapped on the back of a monster’s bike, holding my breath while his laughter mixes with the sound of wind and engines.
The next, I’m locked inside a rank gas station bathroom, shaking, praying for something—anything—to happen.
Oh, who am I kidding?
I’m praying for him.
Sawyer.
The flickering fluorescent light buzzes overhead, painting everything in a sickly yellow glow.
The smell of oil and bleach makes me nauseous.I try to breathe slowly, try to be still, but my hands won’t stop trembling.
I know I’m supposed to try to save myself.It’s the 21stCentury, fuck’s sake.So I force myself to stand, and I look around for a weapon—a piece of tile, a trash can, anything I can throw when he comes in for me—because I know for a fact, he’s coming in for me.
But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing I can use to help me get out of this mess.I frown, and I almost give up.But that’s when I see the toilet paper holder screwed into the side of the wall.
It’s just a thin piece of metal, but it’s something.
I reach for it, and I pull.It can’t be holding on to that piece of tile with more than half a screw.
It’s tough, though.And I cut my hand, but I try again.I whip off my sweatshirt, and I use it to get a better grip.I pull again.
Then, the doorknob rattles.
“Hey!”Roach’s voice slices through the thin metal door.“Hurry it up, girl!You takin’ a fat shit or what?”
The way he laughs after makes my stomach twist.
I was hoping he’d get bored.Or that maybe the universe would open a hole and swallow him whole.
But no such luck.
“I said, you done, girl?”he shouts.
“Almost done!”I yell, hating him and the other guys for the disgusting comments they make about women on their period, and bowel movements.
But really, I hate them just because they’re breathing.Those mean bastards don’t deserve to.
