“Roll her so that her back is to us.” She heaves a breath and does as she said, positioning Mary-Beth with Nandi’s help so that her lifeless face is concealed against the wall.
I glance away when Darla fights Mary-Beth’s stiffening arm to adjust it over her side more naturally.
Kathy looks as though she’s ready to vomit.
“At least when The Kid wakes, it’ll look as though she’s just asleep.” Darla moves back to her position and tugs one of the stained and torn blankets from the stuffing of her makeshift pallet. “Here.” She tosses it to Nandi. “Cover her body with this.”
Pretty sure what they gave us to sleep on are dog beds, considering the inadequate size.
“What are we going to tell them when they come downstairs?” Eleanor asks.
“Nothing,” I say, snapping out of my reverie. “All they need to know is that we thought she was still asleep, too.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, because they won’t ask questions when they see that or nothing, right?” She nods to the back of Mary-Beth’s head.
To the swathe of matted hair, thick with dried blood. I shift my attention to the floor. To the matching patch almost indiscernible amongst the dark coating of dust and dirt.Fuck.
“Whatever you decide,” Mila says in a whisper, joining the conversation as she huddles in the far corner. “You better do it quick because the creep will be down soon.”
“How do you know that?” Nandi grumbles. “You’ve been asleep yourself.”
“If you’d all shut up for a minute,” Mila retorts, “You’d hear them. Like I do.”
The room falls silent as we all attune to the dull but definite noises coming from the topside of the floor over our heads. Soft, as though muffled by carpet, but undeniably the footsteps of one of our captors as he heads for the other side of the house.
To where the front door is.
Which leads him outside and to the entrance of our cellar.
“Damn it.” I scoot backward until my spine hits the wall and then turn my body away from Mary-Beth’s head, hugging my legs to pretend that I try to doze a little. “Get your shit together, girls.”
The footsteps quiet for long, painful seconds as he presumably crosses the grass. My heartbeat echoes in my ears.What if they figure it out?He couldn’t. How would they know what happened?Relax, Jenna. This shit probably happens all the time.
The screech of the cellar door hinges plucks the taut wire of my nerves. Mila’s eyes widen, her gaze held fast to mine as the guy drops heavily down the wooden stairs, one painfully slow riser at a time. Eleanor closes her eyes and feigns sleep—arms around The Kid—but not before landing me with one last bitter glare. I don’t get a chance to check on Nandi or Darla; the bolt slides on the far side of our narrow doorway with an ominous scratch.
I drop my lids, soften my face, and fake sleepiness. All while watching the floor before me through the tiny lash-filled gap I leave open.Socks.A pair of worn, woolen socks step into the room, threadbare jeans dragging the floor behind them.
“The fuck you hens squawking about?”
Shit.It’s the older one of the two who drove us here.
“Any one of you bitches gonna answer me?”
Easily over six feet, he’s broad yet unfit, sporting a sizable belly under his shirt. I don’t doubt the aging guy could still inflict a hell of a lot of damage if he wanted to, though. All a person needs is enough rage to be capable of inhuman things.
I roll my body off the wall and lift my head, doing my best not to acknowledge Mary-Beth in my periphery. “Nobody said anything.”
The guy spins toward me and bends to meet my gaze, hands braced on his knees.
I choose to focus on the dirt under his short nails rather than look him in his sunken, cruel eyes.
“Bullshit.” His meaty palm meets my forehead, and he shoves me back, narrowly missing cracking my skull against thewall. “I heard you bitches talking.” The guy straightens and looks around the room at each of us, a silent threat passing through the group. “You making some plan to escape?”
“And how exactly do you think we’d manage that?” I say. “Through the tiny, barred window? We’re not that stupid.” Call it a death wish, but I can’t resist challenging him every time he shows his drawn face down here.
“Stupid enough to get yourselves stuck here.” Asshole smirks, knowing he’s got me with that one.
“It was probably me that you heard,” Eleanor blurts, defusing the building tension. “The Kid had a bad dream, but I got her back to sleep before she woke anyone.”
