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The wooden rafters of the ceiling are unfamiliar. I blink through the fogginess of my brain and turn my head to look around the room.
The cabin.
The masked men.
One had a thick accent. The other one’s voice was vaguely familiar.
The memories flood back as a wave of nausea overwhelms my senses. I roll over on the springy mattress, dry-heaving. My stomach must be completely empty because nothing comes out. Before I have time to catch my breath, I hear the door opening.
I hide my face in the scratchy sheets, pretending to be asleep again. My body shakes as I feel them drawing near, flooding my system with palpable terror. Heavy footsteps come through the door, and the frame is filled with a bald, broad-shouldered man with sharp facial features. Even with his mask off, I don’t recognize him.
“Get up. I need a recording.” The backwoods Southern accent of the man sends shivers down my spine.
At least he’s not the one who elbowed me in the face.
I slowly turn to face him. He’s standing there with no emotion in his expression as he holds out a plastic cup of water. My parched lips force me into a sitting position. My entire body aches as I reach for the cup. I drain the entire thing, not realizing how thirsty I was until it’s gone, and I wish there were more.
The man sits down at the foot of the bed, pulling out his phone and a newspaper. He tosses the paper toward me.
“I need you to hold this up and tell me your name. You’re asking for a twenty-million-dollar ransom.”
I gape at him. Who? Who are you asking for twenty million dollars?
My aching shoulders and the smarting eye, which I’m sure is now black and blue, force me to keep my mouth shut. I grab the paper, holding it up in front of my chest. He holds the phone up, aiming the camera at my face.
I will not cry.
He nods.
“My name is Rosie Lou Dixon. I’m … being held captive. They’re saying they won’t let me go unless you pay them twenty million dollars.”
The man taps the screen, lowering the phone before he stands up from the bed and walks back out of the room without a word, closing the door with a click. I collapse on the bed, exhaling out a sob.
I don’t know what the fuck is happening. Suddenly, I find myself hoping that Holden is the one to find me. For some reason, I have no doubt that he would burst in here with guns blazing and fists swinging. He would save me from the monsters holding me captive even though he himself hates me. He might even kill them both.
Something in him needs me to survive. He can’t sleep unless I’m lying beside him. I have no idea why or how he got to that place, but I’m growing accustomed to it. The feeling of being needed by someone so dark and mysterious is addictive.
“Please find me,” I whisper into the gray room, hoping that wherever he is, he can sense that I need him.
I drift in and out of sleep over the next few hours. I wonder what time it is. The room I’m in only has a bed, a nightstand with a lamp on it, and a closet with an extra pillow in it.
The lone window has been boarded up with plywood. I can’t see if there’s any light behind it to tell me what time it is.
I feel like I’m about to piss myself before I start banging on the door. “Hey! Hello? Is anyone out there?”
Silence meets my ears. I exhale, searching around the room for any possible solution to my bodily needs. Metal scraping against metal on the exterior of the door meets my ears. I step back as someone pulls it open.
The bald man is standing there, a blank expression on his face.
“I need to pee,” I mumble.
“You try to run, I’ll give you another black eye,” he says.
I nod. “I won’t. Please just let me use the bathroom.”
He reaches out and grabs my wrist, gripping it so tight that I wince. He jerks me behind him, through the dark hallway. We stop at a narrow door. He opens it, shoving me inside.
“Five minutes.”
