AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don't know what to visualize,” she mutters.
“Lying on a beach, listening to the rain, whatever. Hell, I don’t know. Just pick something.”
She snickers. “Some visualization coach you are.”
“Just shut up and picture something relaxing,” I grumble, untangling her tightly knotted neck and shoulder muscles. Within a few minutes, I’d swear she’s melted into the bed. I haven’t seen her this relaxed in years.
I’m anything but relaxed, though. I’m still processing her earlier revelations. It’s always troubled me that Charlie’s treatment at the hands of her captors was markedly different from Lila’s. Not that they weren’t awful to Lila as well – obviously, they were – it’s just that they did particularly horrific things to Charlie that they didn’t do to Lila. It never made sense, not that most of what those fuckers did made sense. It’s impossible to rationalize that level of intentional brutality. Lila told me once that she didn’t understand why they did things to Charlie that they never did to her. She’d started crying then, saying she felt guilty for being grateful that they hadn’t, even after she’d killed the first man who’d tried to assault her.
I didn’t know until tonight how Lila had killed him. I hadn’t asked at the time because she was so upset.
Nine. Charlie killed nine of those fuckers, crouched in the corner of an overturned vehicle, protecting Lila’s life with her own. If she hadn’t lost her extra magazine when the humvee flipped, she might have doubled that number. Yet she sees herself as weak? Charlie's the strongest person I know, a warrior through and through.
After about twenty minutes, I finish her back rub with several long, smooth strokes. “I’ll turn around while you get dressed.”
“I’m not sure I can move,” she mumbles.
I chuckle and turn away. “I can just pull the comforter over you and let you sleep if you want.” I feel the bed shift as she sits up. “What did you visualize?”
“My stream in the woods. I’m dressed,” she adds, climbing under the covers.
I turn around and wait for her to get settled before sliding in beside her. “Feeling relaxed?”
“More than I have in years. Thank you.” She scoots against me and faces the door.
I kiss her hair and wrap one arm around her waist. “Anything for you, Baby Girl.”
I’ll do anything to make up for the shit my actions have put her through.
CHARLIE
I hear them long before I see them – angry male voices rapidly approaching from behind. The sound snaps me into consciousness. I strain to catch their words. There’s three voices, or maybe four. It’s hard to tell because their heated words overlap and tumble over each other. I try to move, to get away, but I can’t. My fogged brain becomes aware of sharp pain in my shoulders and wrists. I look up, finding twisted barbed wire digging into my wrists, suspending me from a pipe in the ceiling with my feet off the ground. I struggle to free myself, but it’s futile.
I hear a roar of fury from one of them.
He’s coming for me.
There’s venom in his tone, and I’m the murderous infidel.
The metal door of my cell bangs open a split second before a booted foot slams into my lower back, sending pain shooting through my tailbone and down my legs. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. I breathe slowly through my mouth.
No fear. No tears. Game face on.
Fucking cowards. I won’t let them win. I won’t give them the satisfaction of breaking me, no matter what.
My nude body swings from the force of the kick. Rough hands grab and hold me as a short man moves in front of me. He’s angry, like a bitter chihuahua that’s been kicked its whole life. That’s what I name him in my head – the Chihuahua, small and mean to conceal his own cowardice. His soulless dark eyes glitter with hate. He glares before forcefully backhanding me.
I taste blood.
Without hesitation, I spit on him. Bloody spittle splatters across his cheek. He narrows his eyes, wiping it off with his sleeve, then punches me in the face. There’s a crunch of breaking bone, and blood pours from my nose.
He begins screaming, gesturing wildly. His anger seems overly personal. One of the bastards I killed must have been a friend or family member.
He’s here for revenge. He wants to hurt me.
He wants to make it slow.
Fuck that. I’d rather die quickly than die a slow, torturous death.
