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She doesn’t answer. I pause and wait, listening, but there’s nothing else.
I guess it’s just the television.
CHARLIE
Loud boots echo sharply on the stone floors, moving closer. A metal door clangs open behind me, then slams shut. Grating voices outside the cell utter crude comments and laugh as a pair of rough hands grabs my hips.
No!
The foul stench of body odor hits me. A zipper scrapes behind me as he drags me backwards.
No!
I pull my right knee forward before driving my heel upward behind me, connecting with his exposed groin. I hear a man’s deep groan. My body swings, unviolated for this round but still suspended in midair. The barbed wire bites deeper into my wrists with every sway of my body.
I hear the door again. Someone else is coming.
They never stop coming.
Fucking bastards!
No no no no no NO NO!
MARK
I’ve just decided it must have been the television when I hear it again. This time it sounds like someone snarling “No!” right outside my door.
Is that… Charlie?
I hear it a third time. “No!” It’s a fierce, feral growl, and it’s definitely Charlie. Shit!
I spring up, grabbing my crutches and hauling myself awkwardly across the room. I reach the door and grab the handle, shoving as I turn, but nothing happens. Frustrated, I jiggle it and shove again, harder this time. Still nothing. Fuck! My lagging brain prods me until I realize I need to pull the door, not push, and my damn crutch is in the way. Cursing, I lunge left and jerk it open.
A gun blasts twice from the left, just outside the door. Bullets strike the wall to my right, exactly where my head would have been if I’d rushed straight into the hall. The drywall explodes in a cloud of dust as bits shower to the floor. I drop to a crouch, scanning my immediate area for any weapon I can use.
There’s a single sneaker – mine – and a glass bowl of driftwood pieces and pinecones on a table.
Wonderful.
I snag the shoe and quietly empty the bowl’s contents on the carpet. The bowl is heavy enough to buy me a second or two. I can hurl it at the intruder’s head and tackle him while he’s distracted. If I’m lucky, I might avoid getting shot in the process.
“Charlie?” I call.
No answer.
Please be okay, Baby Girl, please.
“Charlie? Can you hear me?” I rise to a standing position, bracing myself against the door frame. I throw the shoe across the hall into the living room, where it smacks the wall and thuds to the floor. I expect gunfire in that direction as I prepare to hurl myself at her attacker.
Instead, I hear… Lila? But her voice sounds canned. Soothing, repeating itself. Then another sound reaches me.
Charlie. Sobbing.
I dart my head around the corner to chance a glance at the intruder, but the only person in the foyer is Charlie.
Kneeling on the floor.
Gripping her gun.
