Page 14 of Grave Possession

She’s going to need you when we get her back, so stay safe.

Victoria:

I need a purpose or else I’m going into the woods to look for her.

Jackie can’t stop me forever, and neither can you.

Fuck, this woman. I understand her feelings, I do, but I can’t very well tell Mallory her friend is dead after I get her back. Maybe there’s something she could do, a task that could help her to not feel so aimless.

Graves:

If you want to help, you’ll do it from the safety of your apartment. I heard about some websites where hunters exchange information online. Find some intel from around here and send it over to me.

That’s all I have for now.

Victoria:

Thank you.

I’ll be in touch.

Graves:

Don’t do anything stupid or you’ll end up with a security detail.

Victoria:

Fine.

I still haven’t heard from Jaydon, but their work day isn’t over yet. I make my way back inside, opting to start the research myself. I stand in the entrance way, staring down the hallway to Mallory’s bedroom. It’s torture, being here without her and seeing the ghosts of us everywhere I look. I can’t sit here for another moment longer while he has her. Turning, I leave the house, locking the door behind me. I freeze in my steps. Should I leave it unlocked? What if she manages to get away and comes here? I twist the key back, unlocking the door.

I cross the yard to the trailer, unhooking the all-terrain-vehicle. Grabbing the bag of Mallory’s things I packed previously, I throw in the first aid kit, flashlights, batteries, and my knife. I strap the duffle to the luggage rack, along with a full jerry can, and an extra helmet. The quad rumbles to life, and I take off down the dirt road, turning onto the first trail head I see. I’m gonna find you, baby. I promise.

Chapter Eleven

Mallory

The chains outside rattle as my captor pulls them through the door handles, preparing to fuck me up for what feels like the hundredth time in a row. I’ve lost count of the days, but that doesn’t matter, I refuse to break. The hinges groan as he heaves open the two heavy wooden doors, allowing the light from outside to faintly bleed into the room. His work boots clunk down the stairs, and as he emerges from the dusty, dim atmosphere, I can see his hands are full. He’s carrying a shoe box, two plastic shopping bags, and a plate with a delicious looking sandwich on it. Colour me intrigued.

“You ready to behave today, darlin’?” His voice is light and inquisitive, but I know better than to trust whatever false sense of security he’s trying to lure me into. I’m weak, and my mind is foggy because he’s only fed me a few times since abducting me. However, I’m not doing myself any favours by being a huge pain in the ass and denying the food he’s brought me. If he wants to keepme, he’ll have to give me what I want, or I’ll slowly kill myself.

“That depends on what you brought me,” I mumble, trying to be an insufferable bitch.

“Oh, I brought you lots, darlin’. But whether you get it or not is to be determined.” He taunts me with the promise of a way to keep my sanity intact while locked up in this dank, windowless prison.

“Show me then.”

“Nah, not yet… You hungry?” He drops the bags carefully and I almost squeal when one tips slightly, gracing me with a glimpse of what he brought. Books and pens. Lock your shit down, Mallory. He can’t see how eager you are to get your hands on that stuff.

“Yes, I’m hungry,” I whisper. A sinister smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he eliminates the distance between us, squatting down in front of the dog kennel I’m locked inside. Pulling a ring of keys from his jacket pocket, he unlocks the padlock that’s been clicked tight around the wire door and threaded through the frame. He swings the door open, the rusted metal hinges squealing and making the migraine throbbing behind my eyes ten times worse.

“Well, come on now,” he says. I crawl out of the cage, and it’s confidence-shattering on a whole new level. He moves to sit on the mattress in front of me, patting the spot beside him, beckoning me like a fucking dog. It’s so demeaning. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this humiliated before, felt this level of worthlessness.

Violence swirls beneath my skin but I could never act on it in this state. My limbs are stiff and sore from beingcramped in that small area for what feels like days on end, and I can’t see clearly from the ocular migraine. Shakily, I attempt to stand but his mumbling sound of disapproval meets my ears and I pause. “Nuh-uh. Fuckin’ crawl to me darlin’.” He spreads his legs and licks his lips, watching me with an intensity I’ve never seen from him before. Picking up my leash, he tugs me toward him. Slowly I move, putting one hand in front of the other as I swallow my disgust.

“Good girl,” he says as I sit beside him on the mattress. He picks up the plate, handing it to me. I salivate like a starved animal as the smell of deli meat wafts into my nose. It’s the most sustenance I’ve been given thus far, he’s been throwing me granola bars and bags of chips intermittently.

The sandwich bread is white and fluffy with a thick spread of mayo, stacked high with ham, bologna, lettuce, cheese, and tomatoes. It may be the most beautiful sandwich in existence.What’s the catch, asshole?

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