Page 83 of Loving Bad
"I've got to leave. Keep an eye on her," I said to her. She gave me a brief nod.
"You don't have to worry, Mr. Carter," she assured me kindly. "I'll look after your mom."
"Thanks," I replied before I left. I hurried to my car and as soon as I got into the driver’s side, I shoved the duffel bag onto the passenger seat.
I started up the car and prayed that Taylor was still safe. I broke nearly every speed limit, and within forty minutes I was pulling up outside Taylor's apartment.
I felt a nervous fear engulf me as I got to the door of the apartment and knocked.
Matthew opened the door and looked surprised to see me. A large surgical pad covered his forehead.
"Have you found her yet?" I asked as I stepped inside. The look in his eyes made my chest hurt. It felt like a steel grip around my heart.
"No," he said, shaking his head. He dropped his gaze to the floor.
I took a couple more steps before I saw Connor sitting in one of the sofas with his head in his hands and Jordan sat beside him, trying to comfort him.
Jordan looked like she'd been crying.
I didn't want to be around them. It was like they were convinced she was dead already and I wasn't going to give up that easily, not until I saw it for myself.
Taylor
Being imprisoned in a dark basement, I lost track of time. My bruises were still a little sensitive and Eric kept giving me painkillers to ease the pain. I think that was the reason he hadn't tried to push me for more. He made me food and let me out of the basement into the house to go to the bathroom.
I wasn't sure if I'd been gone for two days or three. The pain from my bruises had eased and any hope of being rescued had evaporated by now. If they had any idea who had me and where I was, they would have come for me already. Did they think I was dead already? It was difficult to nurture the hope that I might escape when in reality things looked very bleak.
There wasn't a way I could find to escape from the basement. I needed to get out of the basement and into the house to have any real chance of getting away. But I wasn't sure how to do that. The only time Eric allowed me to leave the basement was to go to the bathroom and he stood by the door to ensure I didn't try anything.
My healing bruises meant that my time was running out and Eric would make a move soon.
Eric had cared for me in a crazy, fixated way. He made sure I had everything I needed. It was bizarre that this same caring had made him want to kidnap and keep me locked up. He kept talking about how we were going to be 'together.' I wasn't stupid—I knew what that meant.
The nervous dread in my stomach grew when I heard the basement door open and Eric descended the stairs.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he smiled at me. The smile was supposed to be friendly and put me at ease, but it didn't. It scared me.
"Still a little sore," I lied. I was still trying to stall.
He studied me with narrowed eyes for a moment before he walked to the bed.
"Let me see," he instructed firmly as he bent down beside the bed. His fingers reached for the hem of my shirt and lifted it.
"Does it still hurt?" he asked as his fingers pressed gently onto the bruises.
"Yes, a little."
I was trying to buy time, but I didn't want to be caught lying outright because I feared it would anger him.
"I think they are nearly healed," he disagreed calmly and I tensed. He dropped my shirt and held my gaze. It was like he was trying to read me.
"I've been waiting a long time for you and I don't want to wait any longer," he told me and my fear was overcome by the horror that I'd finally run out of time.
