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Chapter 58
Grace
“Howmanyhourshasit been?” I wonder aloud to no one in particular. Hard to talk to someone when I’ve been left alone in this stupid apartment for what feels like days.
“Mother dearest really did it this time,” I mutter to the empty room. I’d never seen my mother so still, so compliant, so…not my mother, as the moment when Daddy dearest told her to tie the rope around my arms. Of course the fact that he was holding a gun and aiming it in both our directions might have garnered her compliance.
My belly rumbles, reminding me it’s been hours since I’ve eaten, and the baby kicks. I lean back against the chair I’m tied to and stare down at my belly. I can’t even comfort my girl with a rub of my stomach. And I’m not sure my voice offers much comfort, as the fear in my tone can’t exactly be hidden. But I try anyway. “Okay, baby girl, we just need to make it a few more hours. I’m sure Daddy has figured out we’re gone, and he’s looking for us. He knows Mommy wouldn’t just disappear.”He knows that, right?The calmness in my voice doesn’t match the hysteria in my thoughts.
None of this makes sense. Cash’s dad wants the company, my mother wants mine. Neither of them get what they want if I’m harmed…so I’ll be fine. “We’ll be fine,” I echo.
The sound of the front door slamming and whispered voices stirs my eyes open. I can’t believe I actually fell asleep like this. My back hurts, and my bladder is pressing down hard, ready to burst.
“So that’s your brilliant plan?” I hear my mother whisper shout.
The sound of hand meeting flesh and my mother’s yelp leaves me squeezing my eyes tight, my entire body seizing up in fear.If he hurt her, he’ll hurt me.
“Oh, look, Cash’s princess is awake,” he says as they walk into the kitchen, my mother still holding her cheek and staring at me in…I don’t even know what the expression is—sympathy, shame, bewilderment.
She’s in over her head, and she’s only now realizing it.
My mother rushes over to me and looks back at Cash’s father. “She’s harmless. I’m untying her.”
His command sounds like a battle cry, “Don’t you dare!”
Somehow I am able to summon my inner strength, remembering that I was raised by Marion, a woman who would eat this man for lunch. “Can we stop with the dramatics now? I need to pee, and you must have some sort of plan. So if you let me use the bathroom, we can all sit calmly and you can tell me what it is you are hoping to gain from this little stunt.”
It’s an Oscar worthy performance.
I think even Nicole Kidman would be impressed.
As the front of his hand flies toward my face though, I realize I’ve severely underestimated the man before me. I turn a second before his palm meets my flesh, but the aftereffects of it still land somewhere near my shoulder and send my chair reeling back, my head hitting the ground with a loud thump. The last thing I hear is my mother’s screeches.
