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I rush toward the toilet, pulling down my leggings and relieving my aching bladder. I sigh in relief. I look up, jolting as I meet my own eyes in the mirror.
My mascara is running down my cheeks in streaks. My left eye is black and blue with a stain of dried blood in the upper-left corner. I can feel a split in the skin of my brow. My hair is a tangled mess of matted copper-red curls. My once pale pink T-shirt is stained with mud and the blood from my eye.
I’ve never looked worse.
The urge to cry overwhelms me. A whimper escapes my lips as a shudder runs through my entire body.
You will survive this. You’re not going to die in this cabin.
I finish my business and move toward the sink to wash my hands. There’s no soap or hand towel, but the thirst and hunger in my belly has me dipping my head down to fill my mouth with water. I gulp it down ravenously until the door springs open.
“That’s enough. Back to your room,” he grunts, grabbing my forearm with another bruising grip.
“I got it! No need to fucking bruise me every time.”
He’s unfazed, jerking me down the hall and shoving me so hard into the room that I stumble and fall onto the wooden floor. He slams the door before the metal clicks, latching whatever exterior lock he has on it.
I stay on the floor, my body too weak from hunger, anxiety, and the aftereffects of the sedative to move.
“You’ll be okay. You’ll survive this. Next time he opens the door, you’ll run,” I whisper to myself before dissolving into uncontrollable tears laced with hopelessness.
I’m not sure I even believe myself at this point, but the desperation inside me might be enough to drum up the courage to do it and risk another physical attack.
I have to make it out alive. I have to.
26
HOLDEN
Saturday morning dawns with delusional visions of Rosie walking toward me with the sunrise. I stare through my window into the distance, her curvaceous frame as real to me as it’s ever been. I watch her sashay toward me, my mouth watering with desire. The womanly figure fades away the higher the sun climbs until I realize she was never there.
I’m alone in my room, sweating on the floor with aching shoulders. The lack of sleep is giving me mirages. I reach for my phone on the nightstand to text her again.
Holden
Just tell me you’re okay. If you don’t want to sleep in my room anymore, that’s your choice. I just need you to respond to me.
Dixon, please.
I stare at our text thread, each passing second more agonizing than the first. No dots appear near her name. Finally, I get dressed before stomping out to the kitchen in search of Dolly.
My sister is sitting at the kitchen island in a pink sweatshirt. Her dark hair is braided over her shoulder. She’s sipping on a mug of coffee and reading a book with a man’s chest and abs plastered across the cover.
I plant my fists on the counter in front of her. “Have you heard from her?”
Her eyes scan the page for another few seconds before shifting up to meet mine. She tilts her head to the side curiously. “Rosie?”
I scoff. “Who else do you know that’s been missing since Tuesday?”
Dolly scrunches up her nose. “She’s not missing. She went to be with her family. Her mother is missing, for God’s sake. I’ve texted her, but she has every right to some time off. I don’t know what kind of twisted tasks you have her up to in your room all afternoon, but you’ll survive.”
Dolly lifts her chin defiantly before turning her eyes back to her book.
“So, you’ve heard from her?” I question.
My first text to Rosie was on Thursday night, politely asking her when she would be back. Friday morning, I asked her if she was getting my texts, and this morning, I’m truly beginning to think something bad happened to her. I’m sure of it.
Dolly sighs. “Yes. She texted me Friday morning that she was taking off the rest of the week.”
