Page 131 of Finding Noah

He raised a brow. “We?”

“Yeah. We're going to find him,” she replied.

Soldier offered another weak smile, then said, “You take care of yourself and my grandkid. Let me worry about the rest.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE WILL TO LIVE

Benjamin's visits were violent and grotesque, dumping more and more pain into my ragged body, and every time, I sensed my will to live slipping through my reluctant grasp.

Then I’d awake sometime later to find that the silent man in the black suit and plague mask had come yet again to tend to my wounds and offer food and drink, sustaining whatever life was left in me until Ben came to use me again.

It was a cruel and nearly comical carousel I'd found myself on. One where my sense of time was quickly diminishing to nothing while my reasons for hanging on seemed to fade without my permission.

Hell, at this point, even if my body was saved, what the fuck would be left of my mind?

Could I ever face Meg again? My parents, my brother?

What would they see if and when they learned about the torment I'd endured for only God knew how long? I could lie, if found alive, but forensics never would. They’d see the bite marks, the bruises, the cuts. They’d see the truth in the rips and swelling of my flesh.

No, it was better to tell the truth. Wasn’t that how I had gotten here in the first place? Because I'd been living a lie and I could no longer deal?

“You’re quiet tonight,” Ben muttered into my ear, his rancid sweat dripping into my eyes as he drove into my limp, exhausted body, the chains rattling above my head with every erratic movement.

“You’re killing me,” I said, blinking my eyes shut.

“That’s the idea,” he replied before sinking his teeth into my neck.

I winced against the pain, but didn’t cry out. I couldn’t. I didn’t have it in me. I wasn’t aware a person could become so desensitized to the torment, but I believed I had.

A foreign chime rang throughout the space, and I gasped, flinching as if it had the power to hurt me more than Ben.

He cursed angrily, agitated to have gotten interrupted, as he climbed off the bed to grab his phone from the chair.

I turned my head slowly over the mattress to watch as he zipped himself up, cursing again beneath his breath.

“So, you said you're married?” I asked.

I sounded fragile to my ears. Like a strong wind could blow me the fuck away.

“Yeah,” he grunted, stuffing the phone into his jeans pocket.

“Guess not happily,” I dared to joke snidely, slowly blinking. “You know, since you need to use me to get off.”

In a split second, he grabbed my ankles, flipping my body around like a rag doll. Then his hands flew to my throat, grasping and squeezing.

“Remember this, motherfucker?! Takes you back, doesn't it?!” he screamed into my face, spittle landing on my lips, my cheeks. “How ‘bout I break your fuckin' neck right now?! You'd like that, wouldn't you?!”

Wheezing, gasping for breath, I managed, “Ye … yes.”

Oh God, the thought of death … the thought of an end to this …

It didn’t bring fear or dread. All I felt was relief and an endless need.

Then, just like that, he let go, and I sputtered, coughed, fighting to gulp down as much air as possible.

“Well, I'm not fuckin' done with you yet,” he said, then spit onto my chest with vile disgust. “You die when I say you die. Do you understand?”