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I wake up with a startled gasp in the dark.
I’m on the floor and it’s freezing. Goosebumps rise up all over my arms, my legs. The little dress I wore to dinner isn’t warm enough for wherever I am. A cell of some kind? There’s nothing in it. No windows, no furniture—just cinderblock walls and a frigid chill that’d make me believe in real wintertime in Texas.
What the fuck is going on?
I remember Holly at the restaurant. She showed up in the bathroom… red heels, pale ankles… and then… then… drugged me? I’d inhaled something, I think. But anything after that is a blur.
“Fuck.”
I awkwardly roll to sit up. My hands are zip-tied and, with the added weight of my baby, it’s not an easy task to move at all. I try to be careful. Anxiety thrums hard and fast through my temples. Would whatever she did to me hurt my baby?
Alongside the panic comes the rage. If she did anything to hurt this child…
It’s the end of her.
I sway standing up and hobble to the door. You don’t realize how odd it is to walk without your hands free until some psycho bitch kidnaps you. I lift my bound hands and bang on the door. I also give it a kick, just for good measure.
“Hey! Let me the fuck out!”
I don’t actually expect someone to reply to me. So far, I haven’t heard shit. So when someone answers me, I jump and nearly scream.
“Shut up in there or I’ll shoot you quiet.”
It’s a gruff male voice and no part of his tone makes it sound like he’s kidding. Part of me wants to snark back, call the bluff. But if Holly was willing to kidnap me from a public restaurant, then who’s to say that this person obviously working for her wouldn’t have the balls to shoot a pregnant woman in a would-be prison cell?
Instead of responding, I give the door a middle finger and then slide down the wall back to a seat on the floor.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know where I am. I don’t even know how much danger I’m in or how long I’ve been here.
What does Holly have in store for me?
My mind runs through all the possible scenarios, getting more and more Saw-like as they go. By the time I remember to snap out of it, I’m picturing acid-dipped screws going into the soft bends of my elbows.
“Breathe, Liv. She’s not that psycho.”
No, just psycho enough to kidnap a pregnant woman. Which is not that much better.
I feel myself losing nerve and losing grit. My eyes sting and, as much as I don’t want to sleep, I’m tempted to try, just to avoid crying. I don’t want to fucking cry here. Not over Holly’s insanity.
As I feel the panicking mounting to a crest, rising up within my chest, the door opens. I scoot back, expecting Holly to come waltzing in. I wouldn’t put it past her to gloat about this shit.
But it’s not Holly.
It’s a young girl, no older than sixteen. She’s small, timid-looking. Her hair is the same shade as Holly’s, though, and they share a face shape. Another daughter?!
I eye the girl as she closes the door behind her. In her arms is a tray. There’s a sandwich, an apple, and a box of juice on it. She seems scared, her wide eyes nervously glancing around as she sets the tray down at my feet.
“Hey—”
My speaking seems to be the thing that sets her off. The girl lets out a yelp and scurries away before I can even finish my sentence. I can’t help but wince when she’s gone. She might have been the one way to get at least a little bit of information. Something to tell me where I am and what’s going on.
Instead, it’s just me and the darkness again.
Correction: me, the darkness… and my baby.
55
OLIVIA
