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I still cling to the belief that despite the terrible traumas and abuses inflicted upon me, that I am more than my situation. With shaky fingers, I still hold onto the belief that as terrible as my life has become, it will never define me. It will never extinguish my hope or my sense of self. With all my heart, I believe one day I will be free of this place. Free to build the life I want.
So I already know the answer when I ask myself: “What do you want, Molly?”
The simple answer is, I want to escape. I want my freedom. It seems like it’s been forever since I’ve had even a glimmer of hope that I could get out of this place—probably because it has. And that’s because I’ve never been allowed out. At least, not any further than the lot behind the compound and even then, only when somebody is there to watch me. It makes me feel like a prisoner being allowed some time in the yard.
Hawk is really the first person other than the Howlers that I’ve had any contact with. And he is definitely the first outsider I’ve met, let alone talked to. It’s probably because he knew I’d see it as a chance to escape that Hammerhead tried to forbid me from talking to him. But now that I’ve met him, now that I know he feels bad for me, and that he’s a kind, compassionate man, I see that chance. It might be unrealistic, but if anybody is ever going to be able to get me out of here, it’s going to be Hawk.
So, the question becomes, not what I want, but what am I willing to do to get it. How far am I willing to go to get it? If Hammerhead finds out I’m trying to get out from under him, and asking Hawk to help me escape, my fate will be sealed.
They’ll find my body without a head somewhere in the desert and no one will ever think of me again.
I’m sure Hawk can get out of that sort of sticky mess, but I can pretty much guarantee I’ll be done. So, I have to ask myself if it’s worth being killed—and maybe even tortured first—for the chance to escape? I’m surprised to find that I don’t even really have to think about it.
“Yes,” I answer myself quietly. “Absolutely yes.”
Although I’ve been able to hold onto that hope inside me as well as those pieces of myself, I know that can’t last forever. If I’m forced to stay here, eventually I’ll lose my hold on them. I don’t know how long I can endure all this misery until I lose my grip. Then I really will be the nothing and nobody Hammerhead tells me I am.
And wouldn’t that be a fate worse than death? Isn’t preventing that, even at the cost of my own life, well worth the chance I’ll be taking by asking Hawk to get me out of here?
“Again, yes. Absolutely.”
I don’t want to die. I love life too much and want the chance to live a normal one free of this house of horrors and all the horrid memories it contains. I don’t want to die until I’ve had a chance to overwrite those with better memories. I don’t want to die until I’ve been able to taste happiness again. But that will never happen here. And if I don’t take a chance—the only chance I’ve had in God knows how long—it will never happen, period. I don’t know if I can wait for somebody else to come along. Especially when Hammerhead goes to such great lengths to keep me hidden away like a dirty secret.
That means my chance is now. This may be my only opportunity to get out and get free of this place. I’m risking it all. Gambling on the hope that Hawk will keep my confidence and keep it away Hammerhead. I think it’s a good bet since Hawk doesn’t seem to like the man at all in the first place. But it’s still a risk.
There are three things that could happen. First, Hawk could tell Hammerhead, which would end in me being beaten and/or murdered. Or maybe Hawk won’t tell Hammerhead but will decline to help me, in which case, my life doesn’t change, and I’ll just have to play out the string until I’m dead or too apathetic to care anymore. Or maybe—and it’s a tiny, tiny chance—Hawk will help get me out of here and I can find my way to that life I want.
The odds are definitely against me, but I have to roll the dice though because it really is now or never.
Moving as quietly as I can, I get up and walk over to the dresser that’s all scuffed and busted. The clubhouse is silent with the others having already either left or crashed somewhere. I heard Hammerhead go to bed a while ago and can hear his muffled snores through his door. But because sound travels and everything seems louder than it is, I’m taking extra care to make as little noise as possible. The last thing I want or need is for Hammerhead to wake up while I’m at this.
I squat down, take the bottom drawer out, and reach into the empty space. Beneath it, sitting on the floor, is the journal and pen Hogwild gave me a while ago. He warned me to hide it, which was good advice since Hammerhead likes to tear my room apart and search it like a cell check-in prison fairly regularly. I flip to a blank page and sit down on the edge of my bed then flip on the small lamp on the empty wooden crate that masquerades as a nightstand beside the bed.
That done, I scrawl out my note. I fill it with as much detail as I can while still trying to keep it short. It doesn’t have to be a novel. I can fill in all the blanks later if he agrees to help me. But I want to include enough so he gets a sense of just how dire my circumstances are, which I hope will make him more willing to help me. I’m not above using manipulation and pulling on his heartstrings to get what I want. To get what I desperately need.
That done, I fold the paper and write his name on the outside of the page along with another little note. I return my journal and pen to where they belong and put the drawer back into the highboy. After that, I creep to the door and remove the wedge of wood beneath it. I allow it to swing open, making sure it doesn’t make a sound, and follow the hallway out into the clubhouse. Everything is quiet and still. The silence is so heavy, it almost has its own weight that presses down on me ominously.
I brush it off and step out into the darkness of the clubhouse. I’ve been walking these halls so long now, I know where all the squeaky boards are. Some of them can’t be avoided, so I step lightly, trying to minimize the sound. When I get to the short hall where Hawk’s room is, I move slower and more deliberately since his room is right across from Hammerhead’s.
I swallow hard as I look at Hammerhead’s door. Holding my breath, I strain my ears, listening. His snores are still coming through loud and clear, though it’s hard to hear them over the thundering of my own heart. But I manage it and turn to Hawk’s door.
It’s now or neer.
Squatting down, I slide the note under it and give it a good push, hoping he sees it and doesn’t think it’s a piece of trash or something. I stand up and let out a quiet breath, feeling my stomach churning so hard, I feel like I might throw up.
Part of me wants to reach under and snatch that note back, the fear of being found out almost too much to bear. But the other part of me tells the fearful side to shut the hell up. It’s under the door now. It’s too late to undo what I’ve done. I want to chastise myself for being so stupid—and congratulate myself for being so bold.
All I can do now is wait. And hope—hope that he sees the note, doesn’t report me, and agrees to help get me out of this hellhole. It’s a gamble—a gamble with my life. But I have to hope Hawk is as good a man as I think he is. And hope that he’s willing to stick his neck out that far for me.
I’ve rolled the dice and now have to hope I don’t crap out.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Ialmost didn’t see it. But I had to sit down to put my boots on and when I glanced up, there it was. At first, I thought it might just be a piece of trash that had escaped my notice the night before. But then I saw my name scribbled across the front of it. The writing is definitely feminine, which tells me it must be a note from Molly. The second I realized it, I felt a stitch in my heart, but at the same time, an icy dagger of dread pierced it.
A note from her, just after having been warned by Hammerhead, can’t be a coincidence. This is not good. I wouldn’t usually give a shit what Hammerhead thought. He’s just another trash person I have to deal with. But dealing with him won’t be easy. For all my talk about him being replaceable, I know it’s not that simple. In fact, it would be a real bitch to pull off.
Yeah, I could call up the Deviants. They’d jump at the chance to work with us. They’d love nothing more than to wipe out the Howlers, consolidate their power, and start earning some real money. But that’s a pretty damn big risk. From what I hear, the Deviants are involved in some pretty horrific shit. Sure, the Ruthless Kings may play fast and loose with the law, but we don’t get in bed with people who run around with cartels or traffic women. The Kings want no part of that business—we hired the Howlers in the first place so the Deviants wouldn’t become a problem.
