Page 13 of The Shape of my Scar
She went down on all fours, searching blindly with her hands. It took her about five minutes to find it again. The boys were silent on the other side of the wall.
The hole was only big enough to pass one key.
Thane’s fingers touched hers as she passed it across. They lingered for a second longer than necessary.
Faolan managed to lay the keys next to the door before collapsing onto the bed.
As the edges of darkness consumed her vision, somewhere in the distance of her mind, she heard it.
“Now we wait.”
Chapter 6
Faolan
The door opened after a beep.
Faolan’s eyes stayed shut, lashes crusted with dried tears. Her body was curled on the mattress in the same twisted shape she’d collapsed into hours ago—on her stomach, legs bent awkwardly, arms splayed, the purple dress bunched beneath her. Her cheek stuck slightly to the pattern on the mattress. Her throat burned; her skin itched with sweat and shame.
She didn’t move, though, suddenly, she was wide awake.
She forced herself to breathe slowly. In and out. The way she’d learned in the before-times—when her mother used to get angry and run through the house in her knickers, and Callum would whisper for her to be quiet. “Just breathe slowly. Pretend you are that sleeping beauty princess.”
Heavy footsteps inched closer before there was theclink-clank-crunchof the keys under his boot.
“Found it,” the man who always smelled like fish muttered, voice slurred with drink and boredom. “Thank fuck.”
She fought the instinct to move. There was an insistent itch on her back. Her heart thrashed against her ribcage.
The footsteps drew closer, and other smells assaulted her: sweat, cigarettes, something bad..
A shadow loomed.
Then…
His shoe nudged her ribs. Not hard, but casual, like he was checking if she was still alive.
“Out cold.”
A chuckle.
“Looks like he wore her out.”
He snorted, a thick, horrible sound that filled the room and made her sweat.
Vomit crawled up her throat. She clenched her jaw, forcing it down. One gag, and he’d know.
Her nails dug into her palms until her hands felt numb.
After a long minute, the man turned. The door creaked again. A moment later, the beep of the door signalled the door closing.
Click.
Still, she didn’t move. The fear was a living thing inside her, closing off her air.
She waited until the silence was complete, and only then did she open her eyes. They burned with unshed tears, blurring the low yellow light before tracking down her face. Soundless and slow, the tears slipped down her temples into the hair matted against her cheek.
Her shoulders shook with tremors.
