I take a shuddering breath and sink to the floor.
BAILEY - EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
I find myself back home,unsure where else I can go. I know I can’t stay here, but I need money. I’d hidden my wages from the pub under my mattress before I moved out with Teddy. Hopefully they’re still there. I gently push the front door open and step inside. It’s quiet … I let out the breath I’d been holding, thankful no one’s home.
I keep an ear out as I head up to my bedroom and straight to my bed, shifting the mattress to find the money’s still there. The movement blows up the stench of death, and I freeze. Prickles scatter over my body, and I forget how to breathe. I look around my room, wondering where it’s coming from. The smell gets stronger when I get near my bedside table, and as I pull the drawer open, I retch. Four dead mice lie there in various stages of decay. I slam the drawer shut, but it does little to dull the stench.
They weren’t there the last time I was here, three months ago. I haven’t been back since. I’m sure of it. None of itmakes sense—the treehouse, this. Teddy would have noticed something, I’m sure of it. Why would I keep coming backherejust to kill these animals?
A floorboard creaks behind me, and my head snaps up to find Dean leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. I quickly shift the mattress back over the money out of habit. Hiding it was necessary before, with Mum's drinking habit. If she’d found it, she would have taken it all. If Dean found it, he would have given it to her, because if she passed out drunk, she wouldn’t be paying attention to what he was doing.
“Bailey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice soft and low. Walking over to me where I’m kneeling by my bed, he places a hand on my shoulder.
I freeze immediately, my body starting to shut down. “I-I just came to get something. I’ll go.” I shake my shoulder, trying to dislodge his hand, but his fingers dig in deeper, making me wince in pain.
He’s never hurt me before.
“What did you need?” he asks casually.
“Just—just some more clothes,” I lie.
His hand slips under my armpit, and he yanks me up, spinning me towards him. There’s a smile on his lips, but it doesn’t match the glint in his eye or the tone of his voice as he says, “I think you’re lying to me.” He drags his calloused thumb across my cheek, making me flinch. “You’ve been gone for so long; I missed you, baby boy.”
I try to pull away, but he grips me tighter. I’m taller than he is, but he’s stronger, making it impossible to fight him off. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
No. Not again.
Dean pushes me onto the bed, and it feels like I’m still falling, even with my back against the mattress. He pulls his tie looseand whips it from under his collar. In an instant, he’s holding my wrists, tying them together.
No!
He’s never done anything like this before, never been aggressive. My stomach drops, feeling that this is going to be so much worse than last time. His movements are jerky and desperate. I kick my legs and lift my knee, trying to get him off me, but he jumps out of the way.
“That wasn’t very nice.” He grabs my legs and flips me over, pulling the long end of the tie up to the headboard, securing it in place.
This isn’t happening. I’m not really here.
I fight until my muscles burn, but Dean’s too strong. He puts a hand on my back, pushing me down into the mattress, while his knees knock mine apart. I try to scream, but it just reverberates inside my head, never finding a way out.
No one’s coming to save me.
I’m alone.
I hear a zipper opening, and think, not for the first time, that I want to die.
I’m lyingon my back, my hands are untied, but I can’t move. My mind is just … gone. I feel like a ghost hovering over my limp body, praying I never reunite with it.
I want Teddy. I want to get up off this bed and run to him.
The smell in the room is putrid, but I’m too exhausted to move. My whole body aches. I just need to close my eyes for a minute …
“Bailey.”
I jolt out of my sleep, jarring my muscles at the sound of Shane’s voice.
“Do you have something to tell me?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
My chest hurts from holding my breath. I swallow and concentrate on getting the words out. “I-I broke up with him.” The words tumble out, clumsy and stilted.
