Page 70 of Unravel You

“You’ll be in this room.” She pointed to the room at the end of the hallway.

The bedroom next to it had a pair of jeans on the rumpled bed and a pair of men’s shoes strewn by the door. This was Alex’s room.

Bridget followed my line of sight. “You’re more than welcome to stay in that room with him.”

I shook my head and trudged to the bedroom at the end of the narrow hallway. I leaned on the banister before I went inside. It was a long way down from up here. Alex waved at me from the bottom of the steps and chuckled when I pushed myself off the rail.

The bedroom had a double bed and a nightstand, no windows. I sat on the mattress, letting images of Max’s smiling face flood my mind. I had to get out of here. Not once had Alex given me reason to trust his word. Bridget hated me so much there was no guarantee she’d return me home after Derek delivered the money.

My heart raced, pumping hot blood through me. They treated me like a stupid lamb. They were so sure I wouldn’t fight back. My gaze snapped up toward the door. Alex leaned on the threshold as he took a long swig of his beer. I looked away and pretended he wasn’t there.

“Don’t look at me that way.” He sauntered in and set the can on the nightstand. “This is why we didn’t work out, why you’re here. You walk around like the world should be laid at your feet. Like you’re better than the rest of us, me. But look at you. Even in your fancy clothes, you’re still you, scared of everything, weak, and so dumb. It didn’t take much to get you here.”

I wasn’t weak. Or dumb. Though he’d said it so many times before, for a long while, I believed all of it.

I sat very still, rubbing the inside of my wrist. When Alex and I were together, I’d do the same when he was in one of his moods. I’d stare at the wall and not move. I’d thought if I stayed quiet and not do anything to make him angry, he would be nicer to me or not hit me. That strategy had worked maybe once. He convinced me that it was my fault. That he lost his temper because of something I’d done: a look, a tone, the wrong word. It was always my fault.

“Sure. Pretend I don’t exist.” He grabbed a handful of my hair and made me stand to meet his gaze. We were about the same height, but he yanked me toward his feet so he could look down on me.

Look at me. Don’t look at me. Which one was it?

The first time Alex hit me, he claimed it had been an accident. He said it so convincingly that eventually I believed him. The second time he hit me, it was a playful slap on the face. He accused me of being overly sensitive, and again, I believed him. Before I knew it, every encounter we had left a mark. And I was too ashamed to tell anyone.

I fisted my hand. After the first time Alex hit me and left a mark, I’d asked Dad to teach me a few boxing moves. I made it look like it was all for fun. He’d been more than happy to train with me. He’d even enlisted a couple of my cousins to spar with me.

Alex was the reason I learned how to throw a punch, though I never mustered the courage to fight back. Lucky for me, he wanted nothing to do with me after I told him I was pregnant. But the few months we were together left a scar that stayed with me all this time.

For years, I lived in fear he might come back. And now, here we were. It was all how I thought it would be. He hated that I existed, that I drew breath. Like before, his behavior didn’t make sense. No matter how much I tried to read into his words, none of it made sense.

He slapped my face, then snapped his fingers the same way Bridget had done in the car. They were not that different. “Look at me when I talk to you.”

I met his gaze. How in the world did I ever find that smirk charming? How did I let things escalate so fast? Maybe that was it. He’d done it so fast I had no time to see him for what he really was.

“You’re a coward. Weak. Small.” My words weren’t above a whisper, but my tone was firm.

His eyebrows went up as he pursed his lips. He made to leave, then turned and struck me across the face. A thousand stars exploded in my head. My ear popped along with my jaw. The throbbing began immediately. I didn’t think. I didn’t stand still. I didn’t do any of those things because Alex’s actions were never my fault. He was nothing more than a coward.

I fisted both my hands and threw a jab and then a cross. The way I’d practiced for so long. The way I’d fantasized about doing for so long. He was stronger, but I was faster. I punched him in the throat next, then the soft spot below his rib cage. Mouth slightly open, he fell to the floor.

If he was surprised or knocked out, I didn’t care. I didn’t have time to find out. My legs jerked into a run. I ran down the stairs and slammed against the door. I flipped the deadbolt, but nothing happened. I needed a code.

I ran toward the dining room and tried the door there. When I entered a random number, the keypad there flashed red. Tears streamed down my face as I looked around the room for a way out. With trembling hands, I picked up a dining chair and threw it against the window. The heavy velvet curtains muffled the impact, protecting the glass.

When I spun around, Bridget stood there, red face, lips pursed into a single line. “You just made things way more difficult for yourself. I told Alex you’d try something. But he didn’t listen. Now we go with my plan.” She smiled at me, a creepy gesture that sent a spasm of fear down my spine.

She stomped around the kitchen island and opened the door next to the fridge. It looked like some sort of broom closet. Alex gripped my hair again. Using his body to block me, he shoved me toward Bridget and into the dark room. The door shut behind me. While I tried to regain my balance, my foot slid down a step and I tumbled down the stairs. Not a broom closet, a basement. I sat on the landing, clutching my arm to myself.

I’d played my only card. I got away from Alex because he never expected me to retaliate. The element of surprise was gone now. I had no other way to escape this place. I drew my knees to my chest and rested my cheek on them.

I was in the middle of God knows where, in a dark basement, with two sociopaths who didn’t care if I lived or died. At this point, I wasn’t even sure Alex agreed to play Bridget’s sidekick for the money. He’d done it for the chance to mess with my head again. I hoped my fists had left a mark. For the next few days, he’d have to look at himself in the mirror and be reminded that I didn’t stand still, that I fought back. I wasn’t a stupid little lamb.

I would have guessed he’d be furious that I hit him, but he hadn’t been. He stayed on the floor, hugging his stomach, but the look he gave me when he yanked me away from the back door wasn’t any different. I’d always assumed he’d beat me to a pulp if I ever defended myself.

The small victory didn’t help much with my current situation. I was still stuck here with no way out. Well, no way out upstairs. I braced my hand on the wooden banister and propped myself up. When I stood, the side of my head pounded in protest.

I trudged up the steps, running my hand along the wall. There had to be a light switch around here somewhere.Please don’t let this be one of those creepy basements.My hand touched the plate, and I immediately flipped the switch.

The room below was the typical unfinished basement with beams and cabling showing. In one corner, a DIY shelving unit leaned against the wall. Boxes and boxes were piled on it. An exercise bike, a TV, and a bunch of other trinkets that were basically trash littered the space.

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