“Dear God,” Jethro mutters.
Phoebe sobs as blood drips down her arms as she tries to free herself from the chains bolted to the fucking floor. I can’t believe they fucking chained her to the goddamn basement.
It’s a makeshift room in the unfinished basement. Against the wall is a small cot, and a crude toilet of a five-gallon bucket sits in the corner. Thank God it hasn’t been used because it tipped over in her panic.
Running to her, I cup her face, forcing her to look at me. “Phoebe, it’s me. It’s me, baby. I’m here.”
Nothing I say registers, and she continues to thrash violently against the metal around her wrists. There’s so much blood, and I can only imagine how long she’s been down here trying to free herself.
Did they watch this and laugh? Enjoy the show of Phoebe nearly killing herself to get out of the one place that is her literal hell?
The chains hit my shin as she tries to free herself, and I hiss. How many times has she hit herself trying to get out? What other marks does she have that we won’t find until later?
Luckily, I know she can’t register the pain through her panic. It’s the only small comfort I have as her eyes frantically look around the room for something to help free her. But every fewmoments, her eyes fly back to the floor, and I know what she sees.
Her mom.
Dead on the floor.
Watching her.
“We have to get her out of here,” I shout over her screams and grab the chains.
“Where’s the key?” Zep shouts.
There’s terror in his tone, and I know he’s worried, too. He’s come to love Phoebe for what she’s done for his family.
I can’t wait to find a goddamn key, and I grab the metal, yanking it with my girl, as she tries to pull with what little body weight she has.
It doesn’t budge, and I try again.
Nothing.
Having everyone standing around watching isn’t helping, and I glance up to give them a piece of my mind only to find them looking all around. They’re trying to find the key. They’re trying to help.
Being home puts me in a completely different mindset. When I tried to save Joanna, Father and Ryan just stood there watching. Smiling. Enjoying my pain.
I know they did more than just kill her. They’d had her for two hours before I got there. But I didn’t want to know. I saw enough to hate them for the rest of their lives. Because I was determined they’d die long before me.
“Here,” Capone says, taking one of the two chains from me. “On three.”
We run, using our body weight and sheer strength to pull the bolts from the floor. Grunting, we get nowhere, but neither of us is deterred. We’re getting my girl out of here.
Phoebe continues screaming, her entire body shaking and splattering blood on to the floor as we try again. But nothing.
Kannon and Zep join us, and after three tries, the chains finally break. Shifting my body, my back takes the hit of the metal as they fly up rather than Phoebe.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
It’s going to leave a welt, but it’s better me than her.
Phoebe crawls backwards, but she hits a wall. Her eyes fly around frantically before locking on the floor every few moments to stare. She’s completely lost. Her surroundings are foreign to her, and I know she’s getting to the point of blind fear. She can’t see a way out.
Scooping her up, I push through the guys as they stare, dumbfounded and concerned, as I race to get her upstairs. Tanner jumps up and looks horrified as I sit on the couch with Phoebe on my lap.
“Jesus. What did they do?” he mutters.
Unfortunately, the physical damage she did to herself. The psychological damage is all them. The catalyst to her current state.
