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Chains.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
I scream when a body steps out in front of me. I reach out for the door frame, feeling faint and sick.
I gasp, struggling to understand what I’m seeing. “It’s you.”
He smiles, opening the door wider. I stumble back a step, screaming at the top of my lungs. No! I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest.
I fall to my knees, tears falling and blurring my vision, but I can’t take my eyes away from the scene in front of me.
CJ.
Bloody.
His head hanging lifelessly to the side.
It’s the last thing I see before I pass out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The grief of losing my baby hits me the second I come to, like it has done every time I’ve woken up since it happened. It’s suffocating. There’s a split second where I forget. For that split second, I’m a mum-to-be, and I’m happy, blissfully happy. Then it’s ripped away from me all over again.
I open my eyes, a little disorientated, and blink, inspecting the foreign room.
What the hell? Where am I?
I shoot up in the bed I’m in and everything comes flooding back. I’m drowning in emotions. I can’t hear over the sound of buzzing in my ears.
CJ.
I close my eyes, seeing his dead body all over again. All that blood… I rub my chest, breathing heavily. There’s a hole in my heart from losing him, from losing my life.
This can’t be happening to me. It can’t. I can’t live my life without him. I won’t.
I run my fingers through my hair, opening my eyes and letting tears fall.
There’s not much to the room I’m in, but I don’t really get a chance to look. My eyes take in CJ sitting tied to a chair. I jump off the bed, and in my haste, I nearly trip over my own feet.
He’s awake.
My eyes aren’t deceiving me. He’s really awake.
“Oh, my God, you’re alive.”
He struggles against his restraints, the veins in his temples pulsing, his face bright red and covered in blood and sweat. The muscles in his arms bulge, and he growls deep in the back of his throat as he fights to get free. His wrists are red raw from the rope, and my breath gets caught in my throat.
CJ.
“We need to get you out of here. OhmyGod, ohmyGod,” I chant.
I kneel on the floor in front of him and immediately fiddle with the rope at his wrists. My hands shake, making it harder for me to grip it. I begin to panic, my vision blurring as I struggle to get him free.
We have to get out of here. We have to get him medical help.
“CJ, I can’t get them loose. What do I do?” I cry, pulling on them harder.
He tries to tell me something, but it’s muffled behind his gag. I glance up through my tears, feeling helpless and panicked. He has a gash on the side of his head, blood still pouring from the wound. The left side of his face is just swollen, covered in a dark, purple and black bruise.
