Page 145 of Moth to a Flame

What has he done to me? And when?

Where is Landon?

“You’re older.” That’s a new line. I snap my head up to him as he sneers. Steps toward me. “Doesn’t mean you’re getting off the hook. You’ve earned your punishment. You’ll suffer like none of my girls ever have suffered before. The cops might shoot me for this. Don’t care. You’ll suffer worse. ’Cause I’ll live inside your head until the day you die.”

“No.” My fisted hands are already up in the air. I ignore the pain in my index finger. “Stay away from me.”

“I’ve stayed away long enough.” His mocking voice turns my blood to ice. “Have had years to think about how I’m going to destroy you. This is happening.”

“Help!” I scream. My feet don’t work, and that’s okay. Landon is here, somewhere. He’s here and he’ll hear me. “Help! I’m over here! Help!”

I’m not getting attacked by him again. I won’t allow it. Landon won’t allow it.

I’ll be fine. Any minute now, I’ll be okay.

A hand cracks on my cheek, slapping me out of my nightmare.

Fear clutches at my lungs when I remember where I am. I’m not home. This isn’t Landon. He would never slap me. Never wake me up this violently from one of my nightmares.

I blink my eyes open, clearing my vision.

“Stop.”Crackand, fuck, it stings. He hit me in the same place. “Making.” Each word is a crack on my sore cheek. “So. Much. Noise.”

My clothes are soaked with sweat. My heart is racing. I have no doubt that Lester isn’t lying. I must’ve screamed my head off.

That’s what you get for kidnapping the woman you traumatized.

“Bitch.”Crack.

Crying is useless. It won’t tell me where we are. How long I’ve been out.

The pain in my finger and the rising fear of never being found were too much, and I blacked out earlier. I’m awake now.

And he’s here. Straddling me. Thankfully, fully clothed.I’mfully clothed.

“You made me pull over, you dumb bitch.” His morning breath sickens me. It’s worse than the rotten apples scent that seems to cling to his skin.

Wait. Morning breath?

Morning.

I steal a glance at the open back doors of the van. There’s light outside, natural light. We’re on the side of the road. Up ahead, there are houses scattered in a neighborhood I don’t recognize.

Too far. They won’t hear me if I scream.

No one’s here to help me. I’ll have to save myself, and for that, I’ll have to play it smart. But it’s hard to think and plot when I’m running out of energy, fast.

As far as I know, this is the first time he’s stopped the van since he pulled out my fingernail. Except we’re not here to buy food or water or go on a bathroom break.

He’s planning to starve me. He’ll deny me water. I’m sure he will.

All part of his sick, twisted revenge on me.

“You’re paying for this.” The plier is in his grip.

My instincts jump into action, ignoring the pressure in my bladder. Pain. I can’t take any more of it.

Wait. I can. I will.

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