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Chapter 23
Harlow
I didn’t know where I was. Bronx had driven for about half an hour, taking many different roads and turns, until we’d come to an area of rundown houses. It wasn’t like a subdivision where they were organized in nice, neat rows. These houses were sporadically placed, as if they’d been built at different times. The neighborhood was hilly with cacti and other dry climate vegetation that made the area look unkempt and abandoned.
We pulled up to a little two-story house that needed a paint job with a cracked, weed-filled driveway. I forced myself to remain calm as Tamara opened the door and stumbled halfway out. Bronx moved like a man with purpose, his evil smirk as he opened my door gave me chills. When he reached for my arm, my instinct was to lean away from him, but I had nowhere to go.
Laughing, he grabbed my arm roughly. I took in the surrounding area as Bronx jerked me toward the front door. I could tell the surrounding houses were occupied, because there were vehicles parked in the driveways and on the road in front of the dwelling. There was also a sign of children because bikes and various toys were scattered about. Giggling and yelling drew my gaze to see a couple of them playing in a yard close by while two women stood watching over them. Despite that, I didn’t get the feeling that I would get help from any of them.
I wouldn’t involve them for fear that Bronx would hurt them.
Tamara had managed to reach the door before us and had already opened it and gone inside. The inside was as outdated as the outside, with faded and peeling walls, thin, filthy carpets, and old and worn furniture. The smell made my nose curl up. It was more than just musty. It was a combination of spoiled food, pot, and cigarettes.
“Go check on my brother,” Bronx ordered Tamara as he shut the door behind us.
I was surprised to hear that his brother was there. If he’d been hurt as badly as Bronx had indicated, then why wasn’t he still in the hospital?
Tamara clicked her tongue and gave a huff but veered off to do what he wanted.
“Come on. I have a special place for you.”
He tugged me toward the back of the house where we ended up in a small, outdated kitchen with linoleum floors and Formica countertops. Garbage was piled up everywhere. We reached a door with a slide lock on it, which Bronx opened. It was a closet of sorts, maybe even what had once been a food pantry, narrow and deep. Dark. But even before my eyes adjusted to see that there was a figure cowering in a corner at the very back, I smelled them. When they looked up from where they rested their head on their bent knees, I found myself looking into the large, brown eyes of a young girl filled with so much fear that it broke my heart.
I looked at Bronx like he was a monster. “What have you done?”
He laughed, and the girl inside the closet whimpered and curled up into a tighter ball, as if she wanted to disappear. “Not near enough yet.” He pushed me inside and slammed the door closed. I heard him slide the lock and knew that I wouldn’t be escaping. For a minute I stood there, overwhelmed by the situation. Tears stung my eyes when I thought about Mrs. Robbins and Klutz. I should have fought more, created a scene when I had the chance. Now I was trapped, and no one knew where I was.
A small whimper pulled me back to the girl. It was pitch dark, but I knew in time my eyes would adjust and I might be able to see her better. Using my hands against the walls to guide me, I carefully made my way in her direction.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said in a soft and unthreatening tone. “My name is Harlow.”
She mumbled something so low in response that I couldn’t make out.
“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t hear you.”
“Kelly.” It was a timid whisper in the darkness. “My name.”
God, she sounded younger than I’d thought her to be. “Is it okay if I sit down next to you?” Something told me she’d been traumatized, and that I would need to tread carefully.
“I stink,” she said with embarrassment.
