Page 123 of The Silencer

My feet drag down stone stairs and then I’m pushed forward, falling onto my knees, feeling the skin peel back beneath my jeans. I let out a small sob, trying to be brave for Anthony but failing miserably. I’m not good in an emergency. Not at all.

I hear the men laugh before the door shuts loudly and I’m left in the musty cellar. I shuffle forward, trying to figure out where I am, but it’s darker here than in the trunk. I can hear the scuttling and squeaking of mice in the corners. Or fuck, maybe they’re rats.

Oh my god.

Oh my fucking god.

I hate those little shits. They are small and beady-eyed with sharp little teeth. What if they bite me? What if I get rabies? I could die from that in a few years. I looked it up once.

It could happen.

I try to stand to get off the floor and manage after a few failed attempts, my legs cramping. They wobble as I take a few shuffling steps forward, wanting to see if I can find a way out. But I just run into walls and barrels of something.

I wish I could fucking see.

My eyes adjust to the darkness slightly, but still, it’s just walls and wooden barrels and the occasional scurrying of creatures I can’t see. I make my way up the stairs, turning around and grabbing on to the handle with my tied hands. But the door is locked so I just move back to the floor and stand there, feeling dehydrated and faint.

I want to sit, sleep, shower.

I want Anthony to come and hold me, to whisper that he’ll burn the world down for me.

But he’s not here.

He will be. I have to keep faith in that. He’ll come for me.

He has to.

You’re mine.

He doesn’t come for me.

It’s been hours. Days? I don’t know, but everything hurts. I’ve taken to sitting on top of a barrel, my arms numb as they stay tied behind me. For a quick hopeful moment, I thought I could escape, that I could saw my bindings off with some kind of metal and be free, but no.

This isn’t like the movies.

I’m just sitting here. Waiting.

For what, I don’t know.

I can hear them above me, stomping around. But no one has come to check on me, feed me, or give me water. My throat burns and so does my stomach. I feel like throwing up and yet there’s nothing there. And even if I did, I couldn’t get it past this gag.

I shudder at the thought, pulling my knees into my chest to stop the shiver moving through me. Everything seems hopeless.

I’ve never felt this way in my life, not even at the bar when I was getting the shit kicked out of me. Because I knew he was coming for me. But now, I don’t know.

I don’t fucking know.

He may never find me.

I hear a hinge creak and then see a flash of light as the sound of footsteps move down the stairs.

“Get him, bring him up,” a deep voice says.

Two men, different from before, grab on to me and yank my arms, making me fall to my knees once more. I grunt as they shuffle me up the steps and into the brightly lit room. My head throbs and I sway slightly, trying to take in as much as I can. But there’s not much to see. It’s barren, old, and dilapidated. Like an old ruin in the woods.

The one thing I do know is that it’s day now. It’s been at least twelve hours since my kidnapping then.

“Put him here,” the man with the gray mustache and white hair says. I’m shoved onto a chair and a hand slaps me across my face.

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