Page 39 of Out to Find Freedom

My stomach rumbled, but I wouldn’t be eating. I didn’t have anything left over, and I knew—no, I hoped—Gloria wouldn’t bring anything down so I didn’t have to see her. I still had a feeling she could read me too well, which was why she didn’t really believe what I’d said earlier. I was sure the only reason she wasn’t down here was because of whatever Ryan had said or done.

The afternoon was turning into a cooler one. I shivered as the breeze swept through the small window down on to me. I needed to get up and grab the old hooded jumper I’d scavenged, but I couldn’t get my body to move. My mind was coherent, only my body wasn’t responding. It kept me where I was, waiting for something.

After another hour, or what I thought would be an hour, went by, another person arrived upstairs. I wondered if Gloria was having her own type of party. The thought made me sick. If it was anything like the time I’d walked in…. I couldn’t go there with those thoughts. I would spiral down.

The chill in the air had grown. I unfolded myself from the bed and went over to the hoodie, quickly pulling it on. I grabbed the socks as well, slipping into them, nearly falling over in the process because dizziness swarmed my head when I bent over. I gripped a box to hold me up. Only the old cardboard folded under my weight; I fell to the ground on my hands and knees.

That was when I heard it. Heavy pounding on the front door above.

I froze there on the cold concrete and listened, wishing my hearing was stronger than it was. Immediately, I threw that wish away when I heard, “Yo, Jackson, what’s happening?”

Ryan was there.

Why was Ryan there?

My pulse raced. I couldfeelthe beat in my neck.

His voice was too low for me to hear, but then laughter came through.

What was happening?

I needed to know, and yet I didn’t want to.

He wouldn’t… no, he couldn’t tell them he knew about me, right?

I fell back to my bottom, gripping my stomach as it threatened to revolt in fear.

I wouldn’t allow myself to believe for a second that Ryan would do that to me. Not when he offered help in the first place.

My eyes widened. I sucked in a ragged breath. He wouldn’t be there now to try and help me, would he? Not after my asking him not to.

Suddenly, feet appeared on the bottom stairs. I hadn’t heard them. I hadn’t heard the door open or close. I let a squeak drop from my lips before I slapped a hand over them. I scooted back on my butt to the corner.

The feet belonged to a man. They were covered in large boots.

Mean boots.

Could boots even be mean?

What was I thinking?

The body came into view. I choked on a noise when I saw a rough-looking man with tattoos all over him.

His eyes swung right to me. His hands came up. One out in front of him, the other lifted a finger went over his lips in a shushing motion. He took a couple of steps towards me, and I scooted behind boxes into a corner.

His hand pressed down into the air in front of him. “Settle,” he whispered on a growl. “I’m with Warden.”

Warden?

Who was Warden? My mind was too wired with fear that it didn’t place.

He must have read the confusion on me because he added, “The guy next door.”

Ryan.

Why would Ryan send a guy in here who looked like he could kill—and just for the fun of it?

When he stepped closer again, I pressed my back into the wall behind me. “Relax. Name’s Killer.” My eyes widened and I whimpered. He cursed. “Club name,” he muttered. He pointed to his vest, to one of the patches on it. “Just a club name. We’re gonna get you out.”

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