AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I open my mouth, about to protest, but he stalks forward.
“Just in case you get any ideas.”
I have no idea what he means until he makes his intentions crystal clear. He stops in front of me, sizing me up. The waves of fury can be felt rolling off him, and just when I’m about to back away, he slaps my cheek—hard. I instantly taste blood.
Cupping my cheek as I turn my face away from him, stunned pants leave me as my brain tries to come to terms with this asshole laying his hands on me. “Stay,” he spits, addressing me like a dog.
Every fiber of my body is demanding I retaliate, but I don’t. This is his payback.
When he reaches out and violently grips my hair, yanking my head back, I cry out because he’s hurting me. He leans forward and runs his nose along the column of my neck, sniffing. “We not done, you fucking bitch.”
His promise scares me, but he eventually lets me go.
I scamper away from him, drawing my knees to my chest, tears welling. My fear is like an aphrodisiac because he reaches down and rubs over the bulge in his pants. I feel sick.
“See you and that sweet pink pussy soon.” He licks his fat bottom lip while I whimper softly. He leaves me cowering, only breathing again when the hatch closes, and it sounds like it’s bolted shut.
The need to flee is even more imperative because Kazimir is out for blood.
I jolt forward as the boat hits the port, taking my mind off his ominous promise. This is the first time in seven days I’ve seen land, and I’m stuck in here. I watch as Kazimir jumps from the yacht and ties it to a large white cleat.
Saint surely would have removed his ski mask, but he remains out of sight as he no doubt knows I will be watching. I wait for him to come to get me, but after ten minutes, it’s clear that isn’t the case.
Groaning, I lift my hair from the back of my neck and hold it atop my head as it’s awfully stuffy and I’m annoyed. Sweat trickles down the length of my spine, but I focus on my surroundings, mesmerized by this foreign sight. They’re speaking in Arabic, I think, but it sounds different.
Placing my hand on the window, I try to tune in to the vibrations offered by this new world as a contagious buzz fills the air. The vendors hold up gigantic fish as they try to convince potential customers to take a closer look at their goods.
Kids run along the dock eating round golden dough balls, the syrup sticking to their fingers as they lick them clean. I have no idea what they are, but my stomach instantly growls.
Their laughter and the cheerful calls of the merchants are a nice thing to see, considering I’ve been surrounded by nothing but despair for so long.
When a street vendor with a portable cart stops in front of me, I crane my neck to see what he sells. It seems he has sunglasses, umbrellas, souvenirs. A one-stop shop. And when he unravels a blue linen scarf, he reveals just how versatile he truly is. We’re in Egypt, according to the shawl, and the gimmicky pyramid keepsakes and mummy mementos confirm this.
Holy shit.
Saint said he has business here. I wonder of what nature? I doubt he’s here to sample the local produce.
The young vendor sets up a small radio, playing some 80s pop song as he drinks a bottle of Coke. If he’s here, surely that means he’s expecting tourists to arrive soon. The locals aren’t interested, but the gullible vacationers would be.
A surge of excitement overcomes me, and I bang on the window, screaming hysterically at the top of my lungs. “Help!” I shout, thumping my open palm against the glass. But he doesn’t hear me, thanks to Madonna blaring over the speakers.
Jumping down from the bench seat, I run up the stairs and attempt to open the hatch, but I almost smash my head into the hard wood because it doesn’t move an inch. It’s locked, which is no surprise.
“No!” I scream, forcing it with my shoulder as I work the handle frantically. It’s useless. It doesn’t budge.
Running down the stairs, I search the room, desperate to find something I can pry the lock open with. Or something I can use to smash through the hatch. When my search comes up empty, I sprint to the bathroom window, attempting to open the latch. But it’s locked as well.
I push at it with all my might, banging on it and working the handle desperately, but it doesn’t budge. “Goddammit!”
Refusing to give up, my feet slide along the flooring as I grab the saucepan and don’t think twice as I throw it at the window, bracing for it to break as I turn my back. When I don’t hear a shatter, I look over my shoulder, only to see the saucepan sitting in a sad heap on the floor. It bounced off the glass—the shatterproof glass it appears.
Breathless, I slide down the wall, tears welling. No wonder Saint had no qualms leaving me down here, unbound. The freedom is more of an imprisonment than being cuffed because I can look out at something that is just out of reach.
“Help,” I whimper in barely a whisper, defeated.
I religiously watch the hands on the clock, and when a half an hour ticks over, I hear the unmissable voices of enthusiastic tourists, speaking English. The street vendor’s music loudens as he calls for the visitors to come look at his goods.
Beaten, I commence a slow crawl toward the window, clambering onto the seat and peering out the window. The mixture of T-shirts and hats reveals these travelers are from all over the globe. There are only about twelve people, as this part of Egypt is clearly not as popular as other parts, but it still draws the curious explorer or two.
