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Chapter
Forty-Eight
PAYTON
A wave of nausea hits me.
I push it down, holding back the vomit. It won’t do me any favors.
Where am I?
Everything around me is black. I’m bathed in darkness. My lids feel heavy, and my head throbs.
I blink a few times before colors finally start to stream in. My surroundings hit me like an avalanche. The darkness is hard to adjust to, but when I finally do, I immediately realize where I am.
Erin’s basement.
The questions threaten to crack my head open. It throbs everywhere. Someone hit me on the head. I don’t know why I’m here, or why it’s so dark, or why I can’t move. I just know it’s bad. That I should’ve told someone where I was headed before I left.
That I should’ve told Trent I love him.
I close my eyes, forcing myself to think. To remember what happened.
It’s difficult past the splitting headache that comes from all angles, starting from where I was hit in the back of the head.
I went to Erin’s because she was crying, sobbing . . .
Someone knocked me out.
Then I ended up here.
In her basement.
The couch is sticky and uncomfortable beneath me. I stare down at my lap. My hands rest on it, bound together by a rope. My feet are in the same state. If I try to move, I’ll fall over.
Who did this to me?
The answer comes at once.
That sicko Brad.
There’s no one else.
Paul is dead.
Erin has no history of physical violence.
Is she also tied up somewhere nearby?
This has got to be about the money.
Maybe he thought my sister would get it, but now he thinks he can get it from me?
It’s the only thing that makes sense.
Around me, music starts to play.
Goose bumps break out on my skin.
