Page 66 of Blue

A damp, musky smell mixed with urine and body odor surrounded her. A lone, bare bulb casting dim lighting made it hard to see around her. She did her best to take in her surroundings.

To her left in the corner was a pile of sleeping bags. Beside those was a bucket with flies buzzing around the top of it. Wrappers, bottles, needles, used cups, and various other trash items were strewn about the pace.

Blue might not have known where she was, but she assumed she was alone. With her gaze darting around, she sought someway to escape. Near the ceiling was a tiny rectangular window covered with the smallest curtain she’d ever seen and across from her was a bare staircase.

A basement.

Terror rippled through her.

How the fuck had she gotten into a basement with a splitting headache?

Blue remembered getting in her car and driving. Where though? Oh! She was supposed to go to tattoo shops. Then. Lights. She’d gotten pulled over.

Fuck.

Dylan.

Urgency flooded her veins. She needed to get out of there.

“Help!” she screeched as she squirmed on the ground. “Help me! Someone, please!”

Thumping footsteps above her head responded to her cries.

Trying to get herself in a seated position again, she only bunched up the blanket beneath her. The plastic zip ties around her wrists dug into her flesh, and prickles of pain spiked through her arm.

She couldn’t just wait for him to come down. Rolling around, she tried to get to her knees. If she got on her knees, she could shuffle.

Where?

Where the fuck would she go? She couldn’t reach the window. Her gaze darted around again. The stairs. That wouldn’t do her any good. Dylan had to be upstairs. He wasn’t down there.

Tears welled in her eyes. How the hell would she make it out of this? What the hell did he want from her? Shouting, her first instinct to try to get help, turned out to be the worst idea.

Following a loud creak from above, light beamed down the stairs.

He must have opened the door above her. Blue wriggled again. Maybe if she made herself small enough he wouldn’t find her. If only she could shimmy herself to the sleeping bags. Move her body to somewhere unexpected so she could surprise him.

The best-case scenario, he might not see her, and maybe he’d think she’d run away. Which would give her time to actually plan on how to get the hell out of there.

“Wakey wakey,” Dylan sang.

Each of his heavy footsteps down the steps tore any hope she had of escaping away.

Blue’s nostrils flared in time with her quick breaths. The stench of the room soured her stomach, but she couldn’t focus on that. In mere seconds, she’d be face to face with him, and she needed some sort of plan. Her heart slammed against her sternum so hard she heard it thundering in her ears.

Pulling up her knees and then extending her legs, she did her best to inchworm toward the sleeping bags. If she could get there, maybe she could hide and trick him into thinking she’d gotten out. Anything to buy time.

Unfortunately, all she did was scrunch the blanket beneath her and stretch it back out again.

With her gaze fixated on the stairs, she gritted her teeth. She needed to move. Blue had to figure out how to get out of this. She couldn’t just sit there and wait for him to do whatever it was he wanted to do.

Dylan trotted down, planted his hands on his hips, and grinned. Even in the dim light, Blue could see his smile. The shadows cast by the lone bulb laced his features with malicious intent.

“I have to tell you, this isn’t something I ever thought I’d do.” He shook his head, walking toward her slowly. “Really, Mooky did this. He pushed my hand.”

Quick breaths had Blue’s chest heaving. She couldn’t move, go anywhere, flee. He’d restrained her in such a way, the plastic bit into her every time she tried to get out. Her wrists and ankles burned from her attempts. Her anklebones ached from rubbing against one another.

She was stuck. The idea made her blood run cold.

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