Page 143 of Patching Over

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Well, the camp’s down in the mountains of Virginia, not too far from someplace called Roanoke.”

“But they were willing to come here to meet us?” she skeptically asks.

“They live locally, Bella-boo,” I replied. “And before you go all spidey-senses on me, I checked out the website online and everything looked legit.”

Shrugging, she said, “Okay, let me grab my purse and we can go. We wanted to have some fun this summer anyhow, so maybe, just maybe, we’ll add something to our resume that’ll help us with our jobs.”

“You mean the jobs we’re hoping to get when we graduate?” I asked as we headed out the front door. I got it locked up while she headed to her car. It’s a sweet ride that her brother gave to her after she finally got her driver’s license.

“Let’s go and get this shit over with,” she grumbled as we climbed into her car. I knew from her tone she’d prefer to stay home and take a nap, but there’d be time enough for that later today once we’ve landed this summer job.

“I got a creepy vibe from them that kind of skeeves me out,” Belle admitted to me as we headed back home from meeting our interviewers. The two young men were maybe a few years older than we were, and both were clean-cut, with neatly pressed clothes, including their jeans. Maybe that’s what was bugging her; the men in her brother’s club would label Harold and Roger, the two guys who came to meet us from the camp, as straight up pussies if they saw them. I can’t swear to it, but it also looked like the T-shirts they had on underneath their short-sleeve button down shirts were ironed as well. A tad bit overkill in my opinion. I stopped ironing wrinkles from my clothing when I left home. All of my clothes were wash and wear, for the most part.

“Eh, they said the camp is heavily religious, so maybe that’s part of their thing? Modesty or something?” I questioned.

Because of my background, I was used to dressing in a more conservative way that didn’t expose a lot of skin. Even now with an updated wardrobe, my tank tops didn’t have spaghetti straps like Belle’s did; they had wider straps that covered up my bra straps. My shorts were more Bermuda style, and I didn’t wear capris, I wore jeans.

“Considering our shorts have to be no shorter than an inch above our knees, and any tank tops we bring have to be the thick straps, plus our bathing suits must be one piece? I’d say so,” Belle grumbled. “We’re going to have to go shopping, because for sure, I think the only thing I own that I can actually pack and take with us would be my underwear, bras, and socks. Hell, we even have to wear close-toed sneakers! How on God’s green earth aretoesgoing to turn someone on, for fuck’s sake?” she asked, her voice growing louder even though she’s sitting rightnext to me in the car. “Hell, I will need new underthings, because mine are all lacy and sheer. Ugh. This is going to be more of a problem than it’s worth.”

“Okay, so the wardrobe is less than stellar, Belle, but what they’re going to pay us weekly will definitely help us out financially next semester,” I replied. Since I’m now living off-campus with Belle in a bungalow that her brother rented for her, I have to work in order to have spending money.

She grumbled before she stated, “I know, and I’ll do it, but right now, I reserve the right to bitch about it.”

“Fair enough,” I teased.

“We’re so fucked,” Belle muttered beneath her breath as the nondescript white van we were thrown into moves sedately and steadily through town so as not to cause any outward suspicion.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, my eyes trained on the two men sitting in the front seats.

“Whatever they ask, within reason, until my brother figures out something happened, and rescues us,” she advised.

“How long do you think that’s going to take?” I questioned, my lips quivering. I’ve faced the wrath of my father, but it’s easier to face the devil you know than the one you’ve never met.

“No clue, especially since all the trackers I know Sleeper had on me are currently either in my car, or on the ground from where they ripped everything away from me and tossed them. But he and his club are resourceful. It may not be next week, Mo, but hang tough and we’ll get out of this.”

“I should’ve listened to you when you said you had a bad vibe,” I whispered, tears coursing down my face. “Maybe we should’ve had your brother check into them.”

“Well, no use crying over spilled milk, we’ll work on getting out of this,” she promised.

I wish I had known then how broken I’d be by the time her brother’s club found us; I’d have probably killed myself. Because no one wants a piece of garbage like I’ve become.

CHAPTER

ONE

Kracken

Memories assault me of the day we found Belle and Moira in that battered and derelict structure. I called Jingles and when he asked me if everything was okay, I said, “No, it’s not, need you to haul ass down to the infirmary, while I call Brick. I found one of the girls.”

While I waited, I scoured the room for something, anything, to help the broken woman I found lying limp and lifeless on the threadbare bed.

Moira.

Belle’s best friend.

“Please be okay,”my mind whispered.

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