Stay (15 page)

Worry about Phoebe competed with the fear and disappointment that swam in my head. I knew she wouldn't get any sort of medical care. She would get better. She had to. I didn't want to see her suffer just as much as I didn't want her to leave me.
 

Hot tears dripped down the corners of my eyes. A bubble of sadness began to form in my stomach and tears dripped down the corners of my eyes. I had been recognized. I was so close to being saved
again
, and the chance had slipped right through my fingers. I wiped my eyes and sighed.
 

Was part of me happy Zane had shot Mario? I didn’t want to be glad about anyone's death, well, anyone who wasn’t Nate or Zane. Did he—the guy dressed like Mario—deserve to die? He knew who I was, knew I had been kidnapped. He could have brought me in, saved me. I would have promised not to tell that he bought me for a party. He would have saved me
and
gotten the reward money.

But no, he wanted more. He was a greedy, horny bastard. Yes. I was glad he was dead. I didn’t feel bad about that.

The bubble popped when I thought of the agony my mother must be feeling. A sob escaped my lips. I turned my head into my pillow and cried myself to sleep. I had only slept for a few hours when Lily and Rochelle came down the stairs, chatting loudly about the wild party they had been to. Rochelle talked like she was there as a guest, enjoying the food and free drinks. I pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"WHAT'S THIS?" LILY asked the next morning, her voice thick with sleep. She unfolded a newspaper. I sat up quickly. Everyday was exactly the same. We never got the paper. "An article is circled," she told us. Wide-awake, I got out of bed and padded over, ignoring the cold floor on my bare feet.

The story didn't make the first page, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of the situation. A picture of Mario, minus the costume, looked up at me, under the headline MAN FOUND DEAD IN PARKING LOT.

“I don't get it," Lily said and tossed the paper to the side. She picked up a banana and began to peel it. "Why would we care about some dead guy?"

Nerves prickled my skin. I reached around her and grabbed the paper. "You wouldn't," I agreed. "But I would."

"Huh?" she asked with her mouth full.

"This guy … he ... he was my client from last night."

"And you killed him?" Lily asked with an eyebrow raised. "What you do, fuck him to death?"

I shook my head and skimmed the article, too freaked out to slow down and read the entire thing. “No, Zane did," I breathed.

"Huh?" Lily repeated.

My hands began to shake. "This guy," I said and tapped the picture. "He knew who I was."

Lily took another bite of her banana and shrugged. "So?" She eyed the paper before it dawned on her. "Oh! Like he
knew
you were Adeline Miller, this missing girl."

"Yes. He said he recognized me from being on the news. He wanted to turn me in for reward money or get paid to keep quiet." I closed my eyes in a long blink. “He's quiet now."

"What if Zane gets caught?" Lily asked, and I thought I heard genuine concern in her voice.

"I hope he does get caught," I stated. "I'd love to see him in an orange jumpsuit put in with general population."

Rochelle sat up and rubbed her eyes, smearing electric blue eye shadow. "What are you guys talking about?" she groaned.

"Zane killed someone for Addie!" Lily exclaimed.
 

That caught Rochelle's immediate attention. "What?" she asked, her voice too shrill for someone who just woke up.
 

"He didn't kill
for
me," I explained. "He killed someone to save his own ass."

Rochelle scrambled up, her feet catching in the blankets. She flailed to untangle them and rushed over to the table. "What?" she repeated.

It felt like everything had just happened. I remembered the chilly night air, the trick-or-treaters running up and down the streets, the way I could see the false eyelashes every time I blinked. I remembered how hopeless I felt, how I didn’t see a way out. And then I heard my name.

"Addie!" Rochelle yelled.

"Quiet!" I told her. "You'll wake Phoebe."

"I don't give a fuck about Phoebe," she spat. "What the hell happened to Zane?" Her eyebrows pushed together and I could see her clenching her jaw.

"Along with being a sadistic, chauvinistic dick, he's now a murderer."

"Don’t talk about him like that!" Rochelle said, her brown eyes flashing with anger. "What did you do?"

"What did
I
do?" I questioned.

"Yes," she spat. "What the hell did you do? You must have fucked up, big time."

"I didn't do anything!" I shouted, forgetting about wanting to keep quiet. "Oh, wait, never mind.
I
got kidnapped.
I
am being forced to stay here, forced to have men pin me down and do whatever they want to me. All I want to do is go home, but I can't because that psychotic, twisted, creep has made it impossible to do so!"

Rochelle recoiled from my words. "Don't say that!" she snarled.

My hands flew up. "What is
wrong
with you?" Exasperated, I shook my head, mouth open as I panted with rage. "You're just as much of a victim as I am!"

"I’m not a victim," she retorted, looking just a bit perplexed.

"Yes you are," I cried, tears of frustration blurring my vision. "Why can't you see that?" I put my head in my hands. "I was so close," I muttered. "He knew who I was. He knew me, he knew me," I repeated and began crying.

Lily made a move to console me but Rochelle grabbed her shoulder. "No," she told her sharply and took a step toward me. "Listen,
Addison
," she said pointedly. "If anything happens to Zane, you're gonna be sorry."

"My name is Adeline," I corrected and composed myself. I had to keep it together. "My name is Adeline Miller. And people are still looking for me."

"Oh my God!" Rochelle huffed and threw back her head. "Will you stop? We get it, okay? People are looking for you, you have a family, they miss you, blah, blah, blah," she spat, her tone mocking. "I am so sick of hearing about it! When will you give it a rest?"

"When I'm out of here," I told her.

"I say we let them have you. Maybe they can put up with the constant whining better than we can." She heavily exhaled and strode to the shower. I watched her check herself out in the mirror and felt truly sorry for her. She was so broken and she didn't even realize it.
 

The basement door opened. His heavy footfalls gave his identity away. Apparently not caring if Jackson saw her naked, Rochelle stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the cold shower.

"I'm supposed to take the newspaper," Jackson told me. He gave me a small half smile that I returned with a glare. "Nate doesn't want you reading anything." His words were defeating. "Okay," I said simply and extended the paper to him.

“That’s my favorite,” he said, his eyes on my wrist.

“Huh?” I asked then realized he was looking at my tattoo.

“I love all the Harry Potter books,” he said shyly. “But the Deathly Hallows was my favorite.” He gave me a small smile. “Though I kinda hated it for being the last one.”

I stared at him, open-mouthed before stammering, “Yeah. Me too.” I blinked, shaking my head.
 

“I think I read it over a dozen times,” he confessed.

My lips pulled up into a half smile. “I read it a few times too. And cried every time.” Talking about books with fellow fans came natural to me. It was the next best thing to reading them.
 

I looked at Jackson, studying the bruises on his face. Did he like to fight? He had to do the grunt work for Zane, roughing up customers who didn’t pay. It didn’t seem fitting. Jackson was free to come and go as he pleased, right? He had to work for Nate just like Zane did. I blinked, casting my eyes down, slowly tracing his body. I hadn’t acknowledged how firmly built he was until now.

“The movies are good too. One of the rare instances where the book to film conversion wasn’t butchered.”

“I haven’t seen them all.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” he said meekly.
 

“Oh. Well … you should.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Jackson folded the newspaper in half and just stood there for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“I didn’t want to read anything else after I finished that series,” he said shyly.
 

I couldn’t help but lean forward and agree. “Total book hangover.”

“Book hangover?” he questioned, the words foreign.

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. You know, when you get hung up on a book.”

“Oh, right.” Then he smiled and almost looked happy. “I love that books can do that. Effect you so much, I mean.”

“Yes,” I gushed, my mind going into obsessive reader mode. “I do too. Books are dangerous. They pull you in and make you fall in love or totally destroy you. For the time being of course. Then you finish it and those feelings linger around in agony until you start another and the whole process happens again.” I let out a breath and suddenly felt vulnerable in front of Jackson. I regretted being so open. Would he use it against me?

He bit his lip and diverted his eyes, blood rushing to his cheeks. I didn’t want to admit that I found him sorta cute. He was a bad person, just like Zane. When he turned and went up the stairs, I found myself wishing he had stayed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I CAREFULLY SCRAPED a perfect arch in the frost-covered window. The thin ice melted instantly when it met my skin. I watched thick snowflakes collect on the brown grass and thought about my dogs. Scarlet loved snow. Even in her old age, she would leap through snowdrifts like a puppy. I sighed, my breath clouding around my face. I hugged myself, rubbing my hands up and down on my arms.
 

“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked Phoebe as I stepped down from the chair and turned around. “You look like a candy cane.”
 

She looked down at the red and white stripped spandex jumper she had on and raised an eyebrow. “That the point.” Her expression saddened when she saw my confusion. “Addie,” she said gently. “It two days before Christmas.”

“Really?” I asked. I had just returned to the basement from the guest room. My wrists hurt from being tied up all day, and my arms were stiff, pulled unnaturally over my head. The muscles in my thigh quivered, sore as if I had worked out. Really, I tensed every time I was raped, fighting my rapist each and every time. When it was too much for them to handle, Zane tied my ankles to the bed. One time he held me down and watched the rape happen.

I knew Christmas was approaching, but I didn’t realize it was
that
close. The house hadn’t been decorated for the holiday. Had two months really passed since I last stepped foot outside? “Oh.”

Next to Halloween, Christmas was my second favorite holiday. It was my mother’s favorite by far. She had always gone all out, decorating the house to the point of making me feel claustrophobic. She was good at finding everything and anything Christmas themed. One year she even found holiday printed toilet paper. I wondered if she even bothered to decorate this year. I hoped she had. I didn’t want my family and friends to entirely move on and bury my memory, but I wanted them to be able to live their lives. Nate might have control over my life, but I didn’t want him to have that effect on the people I care about.

“No wonder you’ve been so busy,” I said quietly. I had a hard time keeping track of time. Everything blurred together. “What is wrong with people that they would want to celebrate Christmas with an underage prostitute?” I asked myself and shook my head. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, pushing away thoughts of my family. I wanted to wait until the girls were gone to have another breakdown.

The basement door opened and Jackson plodded down the stairs. He hadn’t so much as said a word to me since we talked about books right after Halloween. I sometimes found myself wanting to discuss the topic again, but quickly reminded myself that he wasn’t anyone I wanted to be friends with. Still…the topic of reading brought a sense of comfort. It reminded me of my life before being taken.
 

His right hand was wrapped in a bloody bandage, and he held his arm close to his body. He kept his eyes on the ground as if he refused to acknowledge my presence.
 

“Ready?” he asked, directing his question to no one in particular.
 

“Yeah,” Lily said and stood. She put a knee length, red sweater over her tight jeans and a midriff showing white, fuzzy sweater.
 

I found it odd that Jackson was taking them instead of Zane. Even after I stopped going out, Zane came down to get the girls, and Jackson brought them back. I sat on the cot, feeling lonely and scared as soon as Lily and Phoebe left. Rochelle had disappeared with Zane the night before, and she hadn’t been back since. I was certain she was too important, business-wise at least, to Nate for Zane to hurt her, but I couldn’t help the sick feeling that curdled in my stomach when I thought of her being alone with him.
 

Feeling restless with fear, I sprang up off the cot and began pacing around the basement. It helped me stay warm, and it helped stop the fight-or-flight feeling from taking over. I slowly crept up the stairs and jiggled the knob, just in case. Of course it was locked.
 

The wonderful aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafted through the cracks in the doorframe. I stuck my face close to the door and inhaled. The smell immediately made my mouth water and brought up another family Christmas memory.

The floorboards creaked in the kitchen. I gasped in fear and scurried down the stairs just in time for the basement door to fly open.

“Adeline,” Zane called.

“What?” I responded. Just the sound of his voice caused my hair to stand on end.

“What?” he scoffed. “I called you, come here,” he stated, talking to me as if I was a dog.
 

I planted my sweaty palms on my thighs and stood before slowly walking to the base of the stairs.