Page 23 of Not Your Hero

“Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Nothing you’re doing here makes sense to me,” I mumble under my breath.

“It doesn’t have to. In time, it will, and then you’ll understand your purpose.”

“My purpose? I don’t fucking have a purpose.”

“All of you girls have a purpose, Emerson.”

“But you won’t tell us what it is,” I say, keeping my head down.

“No. Not now, anyway. When the time is right, you’ll know. Until then, none of you will figure out how you’re all connected.”

“We’re not connected. You’re just sick,” I tell him. He laughs before I feel the toe of his boot slam into my ribs. I cough and sputter as the air leaves my lungs. I don’t know why I try his patience. Maybe because I already know we’re not getting out here.

I tried it once. To run when he let me out. He beat me. He beat me until I couldn’t see straight, and I thought I was going to die. A part of me wished for it, too. Anything to leave this hell behind.

“I’m not sick. This isn’t sick,” he denies as he yanks me off the floor and to my feet. My knees ache, the small rocks on the floor cutting into my feet as he drags me back toward my cell. I try to jerk away from him, but his hold is too strong.

When we reach my cell, he tosses me in like a rag doll and slams the door closed. I hit the floor and cried out in pain once more before the ice water hit me. He has the hose in his hand, spraying me as he laughs manically. I know what comes next. The freezing cold air. The shivers. The way I tremble, knowing there’s nothing I can do about it.

I’m pretty sure I’m sick. My lungs ache, and I can hear myself wheezing as air tries to get in and out of my lungs. I’m pretty sure every girl in this place is the same as me.

The water stops flowing, but I keep my head down as water drips down my face.

“You keep pushing me, Emerson, and you’re not going to like what happens to you. The end of this is going to be even more painful, but I can make it hurt until then.” His words send a chill down my spine, and I shiver just from hearing them. I know he can do it. I know he will do it. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.

“Turn around,” the little voice from next to me says. I shift closer to the cell bars and turn so she can examine my back for me. “Those are deep.”

“Is it strange I barely feel them?” I ask her.

“No. Your body has become accustomed to this. You don’t sound so good, though,” she says as she begins to cough.

“Neither do you,” I tell her, turning to face her now. I don’t have any clothes left. In fact, none of us do. He’s stripped all of us of the clothes we had, and now we sit naked in the cells.

“You’re worse. You need medicine,” she adds.

“That isn’t going to happen.” The lights turn off, and we both know it’s time to stop talking. The cold air blasts on, and I slink down onto the floor and curl into a ball.

Some nights, I dream of my mom. What it would have been like if she were still alive and here. Would I still be the way I am? Would I be different? I find myself wishing for her. A mother who didn’t care about me. How ironic is that? I suppose I just want someone to be out there looking for me, missing me. I want someone out there to want to find me more than anything in the world, but there isn’t anyone.

I also dream of a dad. A dad I never knew. A man I never met. What would he be like? Do I look him? Did he have other children? Maybe there was a chance I had family out there somewhere if only he’d known about me. Would he have wanted me?

And then I think about Brandon and a tear slides down my cheek. Brandon. He’s dead because of me, although I’m not sure why. It had to be because of me, though. Why else would he have been in my house on the couch? His life was ended, and for what? Was it this sick fuck who has me now? Did he do this?

And the man from the club? What if I had kept seeing him? Sure, he had me drugged, but I went along with it. I didn’t try to stop it, and I didn’t want to. He made me feel good, and that’s all that mattered at the time.

But now? Now I’m thinking about life. My life. The life I’ve never had and probably never will after this. Maybe I wanted a husband and a family. Maybe I wanted to be a mother. The thought that all of that has now been taken from me causes my chest to tighten. I’ll never know if I was good enough forsomeone. I’ll never know if I was a good mom, better than my own.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I cough and keep myself curled up as tightly as I can until I finally drift off to sleep.

Chapter 15

Gannix

This isn’t what I want to be doing right now. In fact, I’ve thought about canceling on Gary more times than I care to admit. It’s not that I don’t want to see him and do everything he has planned for us, but I still haven’t found Emerson. She’s still out there somewhere and I know Ren is looking still. That doesn’t ease my mind or the ache in my chest at all.

I know if Ren figures out anything, he’ll let me know, and I’ll be on the first flight back to New York.

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