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“You can do whatever you want. I’m going to raid the cabinets for food and sleep in one of those beds.”
Turning the kitchen sink on, I grabbed some soap and began washing my hands, scrubbing beneath my nails.
“Are you serious?”
“What do you suppose I do? Go hunt down whoever took her so I can be the next to get a piece of metal in my brain?”
He didn’t respond, so I dried my hands on a cloth towel and then busied myself finding something to eat. I ended up with two pathetic pieces of wheat bread, a dish of strawberries from the fridge, and water from the tap.
“Look, I’m hungry, I’m tired, and so are you. There’s food, and there’s a place to sleep here. Sounds like two plus two to me.”
“Yeah, and the people who lived here are all upstairs.”
“Well, until they ask us to leave, I’m sure they won’t mind,” I quipped over my shoulder, heading back to the upper level.
The heavy contempt in his voice every time he spoke to me grounded what was left of my nerves down to my brittle bones, and I had no energy left for a battle of words.
I made my way into the room with the desk and sat the pitiful lackluster meal on the bed. It took me fewer than five minutes to consume my food and chug the water.
I could hear Tito grumbling to himself when I got back up to shut the door. I’d left him some bread and strawberries so he’d have something to eat; he should be grateful and kissing my ass for not gutting him with the kitchen knives.
Grabbing the desk chair, I positioned it beneath the bedroom doorknob when I saw there wasn’t a lock.
Plopping down on the bed with a heavy sigh, I shut my eyes to revel in the feel of a mattress beneath my back instead of dirt or concrete.
The shower across the hall beckoned and my feet screamed to be free of my worn down boots, but with the bodies across the hall, I felt better being completely clothed. Letting my guard down wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do. If shit were to hit the fan, being ass naked or barefoot wouldn’t do me any favors.
I stared up at the white textured ceiling, my muddled mind sloshing in every direction. Even beyond the brink of exhaustion, sleep still chose to evade me and insomnia taunted. I didn’t have this issue when I slept with Romero.
Frustrated, I threw an arm over my face and tried to force myself to a dreamland.
I could still feel Tito’s disappointed eyes on me. He assumed I was a heartless bitch for not showing anguish over the missing girl.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care; on the contrary, the situation had memories trying to resurface from when I was younger that I was doing my best to suppress.
The girl could be no older than ten at most. I hated all the possibilities of what could be happening to her. It killed something inside of me even thinking about it, because I knew there was nothing I could do.
I couldn’t help anyone else without helping myself first. I had to ensure the potential life growing inside me would never have to go through what I did.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I was going to ignore him, but the urgent tone beneath his whispered words had me rolling out of bed.
Pulling the chair away from the door, I cracked it open and felt my glare morph into a frown, seeing Tito as distraught as he was.
“Come with me,” was all he said before spinning around and zooming back down the stairs.
Grumbling in the back of my throat, feeling far less than energized, I followed.
“What is it?” I asked, stepping off the last stair.
He wordlessly waved me forward without turning away from whatever he was looking at. I crept up beside him and used my hip to bump him out of the way so I could peer out the storm door.
I was immediately taken back to an old movie called Children of the Corn when I saw the little girl from the pictures on the wall staring back at me. I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
“How did you know she was out there?” I asked him, never taking my eyes off her.
“She knocked and then ran back down the stairs.”
