Darkest Before Dawn (6 page)

“Why?” He stops at the top of the stairwell before leading me down. “Why are you here? Let me put it this way, to some people nothing means more than money. Not blood, not love, not life. Greed. One of the deadly sins. That’s why you’re here, darling. It all comes down to greed.”

Sometimes he says things that are so vague I can’t make heads or tails of them. “Stop talking in riddles, would you?” I say.

Now we’re in the foyer and my pulse is thrumming because I do not want to go back into that dark hole.

“Greed and irony…” Max laughs as we round the corner.

“Irony?”

“Yes, irony because you and I have evidently been tied to one another for much longer than the few weeks you’ve been here.”

It’s been weeks…

“Your dad…” He inhales. “Well, he killed my family.” He doesn’t slow his stride. His tone hasn’t changed.

My stomach knots, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Sorry,” I manage to breathe that word out.

I know what my father does, but it never seems real. It’s more like a mobster movie or novel because he’s so kind to me and my brother and mother, so tenderhearted, yet at the end of the day he is a cold-blooded killer. You have to separate things like that from the people you love. Sometimes, in order to love someone, you must first forget the things that you
can’t
love about them. “I’m sorry,” I say again, like those words can change something.

He opens the door to the basement. “Shit happens.”

Once we hit the bottom step, I feel sweat build in my palms and my head goes all dizzy. I stare at that wooden door. Although it’s a mere seven feet in front of me, it seems like miles. When Max slides the lock out and the door swings open, I want to scream. I’m desperate for anything but that solitude—the silence that forces me to think about all the things I don’t want to think about: about death and the parts of life I’ll never experience if I don’t leave here. About the fact that no matter how hard they look for me, the chances of anyone finding me are slim to none. That room is the epitome of what loneliness is.

“How many days have I been here?” I ask, attempting to stall him.

“Thirteen.”

“How many more?”

The lock clicks and he gives me a gentle nudge into the room. “Don’t know.”

Water drips down my back and it’s just now I realize I’m still in the towel, completely naked underneath it. He’s going to leave me down here like this. Naked. And the next time Earl comes in—I can’t let my mind go there. I can’t!

“I’m cold,” I whisper, fighting the desire I have to cry.

“I’ll get another blanket.” I hear the door click shut and Max moves in front of me. “Give me your wrists,” he says as he takes a knife from his pocket and cuts the cord, freeing my hands.

After tucking the knife away, he crosses his defined arms in front of him and grabs the hem of his shirt. His muscles bunch and flex as he tears the material over his head. My eyes trail over his tanned skinned, over his thick frame, his toned stomach and chest. Tattoos are scattered over his arms, mostly tribal, but one stands out: a raven on a knotted branch. Surely they stand for something? Max balls the shirt up and nods at me before tossing it at me. “It’s all I’ve got, but I’ll get you some more clothes. I didn’t exactly think that through.”

I narrow my gaze. “What? Think what through?” I just want to keep him in here. I don’t want to be alone.

“The bath. I just…” He drops his chin to his chest and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. “I felt bad for you, you know? You were fucking filthy, and I don’t trust Earl to not touch you or anything, so—I just didn’t think about having clean clothes for you.” He won’t look at me, and to be honest, I don’t want him to. He’s too real to me right now. Too normal. Too human to be the monster he must be.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I drop the towel and slip the shirt over my head before sitting on the mattress and pulling the blanket over my lap. “Can you please find me something to put on my lower half before Earl comes back?” Max glances up and sighs as he heads to the door. He doesn’t say anything, just leaves, and I hear the lock slide into place. “Please,” I say again, loud enough I know he can hear me.

I sit in silence for several minutes, surrounded by the smell of the cologne on his shirt before the door opens again and he steps into the room. He tosses a pair of gray sweatpants to me.

“Thank you.” I force a smile.

“Welcome.”

And then he leaves again.

I slip the sweats on, securing the drawstring as tightly as I can, and lie back on the lumpy mattress, closing my eyes and somehow drifting off to sleep.

E
arl’s passed
out in his recliner with both dogs sleeping beneath the leg rest. Bubba comes barging in through the front door, a crumpled paper grocery sack in hand. The sudden noise causes Bear to startle. He jumps out from under the chair, ears back, teeth bared, and growling.

“Aw, shut up now, Bear,” he says, pointing at the dog.

Earl grumbles from the chair. Bubba looks at me. “We gotta take that girl for drop off. Just got the money from the man.” He tosses the grocery sack down on the couch.

That
gets Earl’s attention. He hops up, nearly tripping over Bear as he stumbles toward the couch and grabs the bag. His lips spread into a wide grin when he opens the top and peers inside. He inhales. “Nothing like the smell of money,” he says.

I push away from the wall and head to the cellar. When I open the door to Lucy’s room, she smiles and jumps up from the bed. “I missed you.” She reaches for my face, but I turn away from her touch.

“It’s time for you to go now.” I take her hand, but when I go to walk toward the door she remains still. I glance over my shoulder and arch a brow. “Come on, Lucy. I said it’s time to go.”

Her eyes water, her lip trembles. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m giving you a new life.” I smile and tug on her arm, but she still won’t budge. Turning around, I gently take her by the shoulders. “Lucy, do you trust me?”

Her eyes lock with mine as she nods her head.

“Then trust that I am doing what is best for you.”

And with that she gives, following me out of the room without another question because when you have been stripped of everything except some manufactured love, you too easily give into things you shouldn’t. She will believe most anything I tell her.

Bubba is standing by the table when we step into the kitchen. Lucy’s grip on my hand tightens, and I give her a reassuring squeeze back. Because it will be okay. She will know no better, and really, her life, even though she will be a captive in some sense of the word, will be better than the life she led before she ever met me.

* * *

T
he truck pulls
off the dirt road, rolling to a stop behind a tiny white church. There’s just enough moonlight that you can tell the wood along the side is splintered, the steeple at an angle. It’s one of the oldest buildings in the town, and it looks as though it’s soon to fall in. A thick blanket of clouds cross the moon, and suddenly, it’s pitch black out. Bubba cuts the engine and climbs out. Lucy’s hand is still in mine, her palms sweaty. I turn to look at her. She’s terrified, shaking, gnawing at her bottom lip. “Lucy,” I say in a steady tone. “I promise this is what’s best for you.”

She swallows, fighting the tears building in her eyes.

I stroke over her cheek and offer a smile before stepping down from the truck to open her door. She climbs out and waits for direction. But instead of instructing her, I simply take her by the hand and lead her to the black BMW parked at the side of the church. A motion light hung on the corner of the church cuts on, and now I can clearly see the man dressed in a white button-up and black slacks as he steps out of the shiny car. He looks completely business when he smiles at Lucy, failing to acknowledge me. Regardless of his rudeness, my gaze remains locked on him as we approach. I’m angry that he thinks women are something to be trained and bought.

This is the hardest part to come to terms with.

I am
selling
a person. This woman has a price. She was stolen, manipulated, and is now being sold to the highest bidder. Most of these men want a broken woman, one that has been taught not to question, that has been built to love someone they should hate. Some of these men think they can buy love, and that is fucked up. Love is a human emotion, and what I am giving him, well, this isn’t exactly human, now is it? I break these women, piece by piece as I misconstrue their idea of love and freedom and respect. I make them pliable so these men will want them. And that may make me a bastard, but I accepted that long ago.

Lucy stops walking and I glance over my shoulder at her. “Are you…” she whispers. “Am I going with
him
?”

“Yes. I want you to go with him. He will take good care of you and give you so many things. I
want
you to
love
him.” I squeeze her hand and offer a gentle smile. She falters with her next step. “Come on, Lucy. It’s going to be okay. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. You can love him.”

“But,” she whines. “I love you…”

Shaking my head, I place my finger over her lips. “And I’m not capable of love, but he is.”

Her gaze bounces from me to the man now standing but a few feet in front of us. I place my hand at the small of her back and give her a gentle nudge. “It’s okay,” I say.

The man holds his palm out and grins. “You are beautiful.” He takes her free hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss. “You will never want for anything again.”

Lucy glances nervously at me as I slowly release her hand. She takes a step toward him, and he grabs her by the waist, tugging her close to him. Sweeping her hair from her face, he takes her chin in his hand and tilts her face up, studying her. The way he looks at her makes my stomach turn. No sane person would do this. Normal people don’t buy others to do as they please.
But it is a better life than what she had…

T
he hinges groan
and my eyes pop wide open. Someone stumbles into the room, then slams the door and locks it. There’s a hacking cough and I know it’s Earl. I tightly shut my eyes. My heart sits in my throat, my skin slicked with sweat.

“Now, I know I ain’t done told you why you’s here,” Earl slurs. I open my eyes just as he swats at the frayed white cord dangling from the ceiling. He yanks on it and a darkness I once knew all too well falls over the room.

This isn’t just a visible darkness—it’s one I feel.

One that creeps into every piece of my soul.

The worn springs squeak, the mattress bouncing when Earl falls onto the end of it. “You wanna know why, you
bitch
?” I can smell bourbon on his lips. I feel his sticky breath blow across my face. I want to scream, but I don’t.

“Your brother—” He hiccups, and I hear liquid slosh in a bottle before the sound of him gulping back more alcohol breaks the silence. “He wanted me to kill ya.”

My pulse kicks up. He’s lying. He is—

“Brandon, that’s his name, right? He wanted me to slaughter you like a little piggy.” He grabs onto my leg. “Squee, squee, squee.” Another hiccup. “Paid me good money, but I just cudn’t do it. ’Cause you’re too purdy to kill, you see? I saved you.” His callous hand brushes against my thigh. “And I’s figures you owe me something for that.” Chuckling, his hand creeps higher until it’s at the waist of my pants. I scoot away from him. I should fight him—part of me tells me to, but the instinct I have to survive tells me it will only make it worse.

You hear stories of abduction. You think you know what you would do in this exact same situation—but you really don’t. There is no way for someone on the outside to know what this mentally does to you. You can’t possibly fathom how strong your will to survive can be. The things you once thought were terrible are in actuality
more
awful than you imagined.

But those things aren’t death.

Here I sit, back against a wall, with this man pawing at me, his bourbon-laced breath making bile rise in my throat—but it is
not
death… In the reality of terrible, horrible things, you never react the way you wish you would. The truth of this right here is that yes, I can fight him, but I’m a sleep-deprived, terrified, one hundred and twenty-pound girl. I’m locked in a room. No one knows he has me and it would be easy enough for him to just kill me and dump my body in some river if I become too much to handle. This is a level of helplessness the human mind cannot possibly comprehend. You can only
feel
this void; this worthless and incapable if you are in this situation. And at the end of it, humans are wired to survive at all odds.

So I remain motionless, my eyes closed as tightly as I can manage. Tears seep from my lash line. My throat tightens and I force myself to go down this deep dark hole. I imagine what I would be doing if I were at home: listening to the radio, dancing in my room with my friends. Maybe, if none of this had happened I’d be at a movie with my friend, Meg. And I hope if I lose myself in this imaginary world that was once real, maybe I won’t feel Earl’s rough hands all over me; his lips on my throat.

I struggle when he lifts my shirt up. Out of instinct I fight, and in return, I receive a hard punch in the face. Blood pools in my mouth and I swallow it down. Earl pins my arms to the bed and I cry. I cry hard, because no matter how much I try, I can’t ignore this.
It’s not real. This is not real.
I clench my thighs together. Earl slips his fingers between them, and I push my legs together harder.

“Don’t make it easy, if ya don’t want to,” he says. “I like it when you fight.” Spit lands on my cheek. “Makes my dick nice and hard. And I like a screamer. I’mma make sure you scream real good like.” He chuckles to himself. “Like it hurts,” he says with a sadistic growl as he rams his knee between my legs and pries them apart.

Please, God. Please…
Even my internal voice sounds frightened and desperate. I don’t believe God intervenes in our lives, but at this moment, God is the only hope I have.
God, please, please don’t let this man do this. Please let me forget it. Please save me. Or kill me if that is the only way to save me from this, but if they kill me, please make it quick.

The lock clicks. The door bangs open. “Earl!” Max’s voice is filled with rage.

I hear the cord to the light snap when he pulls on it. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell the light just flickered on. A cold breeze wraps around me when Earl’s jerked away. With him off of me, I open my eyes and scream. My shirt’s tucked behind my head, my breasts exposed. My pants are by my ankles.

“Fucking Earl, I told you—” Max’s next communication with him is a fist to the face. Earl staggers, swiping at his busted nose.

“Boy, I’ll beat yer ass.”

Max swings at him again and again, then grabs him by the shoulders and slams him against the cinder block wall. And it’s now that I notice—the door is
wide
open.

The door is wide fucking open!

I grab my pants and yank them up before I jump off the bed and bolt out of the door. I hear Earl groan. There’s a thud.

“Ava, where you going, darling?” Max shouts.

I plead for my legs to carry me faster up the stairs. I trip not once, but twice. I hear him running after me. He’s on the stairs. I grab for the door and pull, but it won’t budge. I pull again, then push, and when I push, I fall into the kitchen, landing on my knees. My pulse has never raced like this in my life. It’s beating so hard I can’t even breathe. Those dogs come scurrying over, both of them snarling with their ears back. I can see the screen door leading to the outside and I struggle to push myself up, and just as I do, I feel a hand wrap around my ankle. Max yanks me back and my body bangs down several steps.

“Why?
Why
are you making me do this?” he asks.

“Please. I won’t say anything.” I try to catch my breath. “Please…”

“I can’t.” He groans when he bends and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder and turning around to head back down the steps. “I can’t let you go. Sorry.”

I watch that screen door vanish from view, and I go limp because I can’t fight anymore. His fingers twitch over the backs of my legs as he carries me back into the room where Earl’s slumped over in the corner, blood pouring down his face.

Max throws me onto the bed like a ragdoll then points a finger at me, his expression hard and angry. “Don’t fucking try that shit again, understand,
dear
?”

I nod and he turns his attention to Earl. He grabs both Earl’s arms and yanks, knocking him over onto the floor. A muffled moan slips through Earl’s busted lip as Max drags him across the dirty ground and out of the room.

“Stay there, you piece of shit,” he says before walking back into the room and locking the door with a key he puts in his pocket. “Now, you see what I just did there, right?”

“Did you kill him?” I ask, because that’s all I can manage. This man saved me from being raped but won’t let me escape. I don’t understand any of it.

“No.” He wipes his hand over his mouth and paces. He’s agitated. Every few seconds he stops and glares at me, then resumes pacing, dragging his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself. “Okay,” he says. “The thing you need to just accept is that you
aren’t
getting out of here. The sooner you do that, the better off you’ll be. I just saved you. I could have let him fuck you, but I didn’t because it’s not fucking right! That is one thing I won’t fucking tolerate.” He steps toward me, squatting in front of me. I lower my gaze to the ground to avoid looking him in the eyes. “Nope.” He grabs my chin and jerks it up. “You’re gonna look me
in
the eyes. Got that? Anytime I talk to you, you need to look at me. I need to see your eyes to know you’re hearing me.”

His words are harsh and ugly, but his eyes, his face, his demeanor doesn’t match any of this and it confuses my already warped mind.

“I saved you, didn’t I?” he says.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He nods and releases his hold on my chin. “If you’ll just…” He shakes his head and inhales. “Just stay here and…well, it’ll be okay eventually. I know it’s fucked up to think, but you can trust me, Ava.”

“I’m scared to trust you.” My breath hitches because I have no idea why I said that out loud.

His eyes narrow on mine. His jaw tightens and he stands, pacing again. “You’ve trusted men
far
worse than me,” he says, anger and hatred flaming behind his black eyes. I know he’s talking about my father. I feel it.

“You don’t know him.”

Max tosses his head back, laughing. “I know all I need to know.” His lips lay flat across his face, and he gives me a stern look. “Do you love him?” he asks. That question catches me off guard. I don’t answer him and he grows agitated. “Do you love him, Ava—your father? It’s a simple question.”

“Yes. Of course.”

He reaches for the door. “Do me a favor, question
how
you can love him, and maybe you’ll see why you can trust me.”

The door slams shut and I’m left to self-reflect on the fact that, since the day I was born, I have found comfort in the arms of a murderer.