Page 48 of Don't Speak
“Are we going to talk about this anymore?”
“I don’t know that I have anything left to say, Dean. I need a minute to think. Please don’t call or text me. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk.”
Without another word, she leaves, and I can’t help but feel like this will be the last time I’ll get to be with her. Another pain stabs the beating muscle in my chest. The reason for its recent happiness is walking away. I clear my throat of the lump forming in it. I don’t know if I can just let her go. I’ll give her tonight, but tomorrow, I’ll start grovelling. She needs to know I will fight for her, unlike her mother.
Everything is pretty much done here, and anything that isn’t can be taken care of tomorrow, so I walk over to the trash can to pull out the bag and take it with me on my way out. Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream reaches my ears, and it’s coming from where Nikki just left. Dropping everything, I run out the door, taking the steps up to the parking lot two at a time. When I reach the top, I don’t see anyone, but Nikki’s car is still in the lot. I jog toward it, and as I’m halfway there, I hear a crunch. Looking down, I see her phone and keys on the ground and her purse a few feet away.
Something catches my eye near the purse, so I walk over to it and pick it up. It’s a white cloth. Bringing it to my nose, I catch the familiar scent of chloroform, and my heart drops.
Nikki is gone.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
My head pounds as I slowly open my eyes. The air smells stagnant, musty almost. Like wherever I am hasn’t had a working AC in decades. It’s dark in here, but once my eyes adjust, I’m able to take in some of my surroundings. The space is mostly empty, with tattered chairs strewn about. It’s almost akin to a hospital setting. Long counters line the walls with cabinets above. They’re empty, and some of the cabinet doors hang from their hinges. I try to sit up, but I quickly realize that I’m unable to. My arms and legs are bound to a metal table with rope. I fight against the restraints, but it’s no use.
Suddenly, the door opens, and in walks the red-headed man who grabbed me at the bar and Dean threw out. He walks over to a machine and cranks it on, illuminating the room with standing lights. My eyes immediately close from the bright intrusion, but I open them as quickly as I can to view the man standing at my side.
“Hello, Nikki,” he says, smirking.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” I spit.
“You don’t know me, but my name is James.” He leans in, getting close to my face. “I’m the guy you stole a childhood from.”
“What the fuck are you even talking about?” I pull against my restraints again to no success. “Let me go, you freak!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He smirks again. “You and I are going to have a little fun. Well, fun for me at least.” He walks behind me out of sight, and I hear sounds of metal hitting metal. I crane my neck to try and see what he’s doing, but I can’t, and panic starts to creep in.
“Ah, yes. This one will do just fine.” He walks back over to me, holding a scalpel. He holds it up, examining it before pointing it at me. “You took everything from me.”
“Look, dude, I have no idea who you are or what you’re talking about.”
“Sean Edwards. Ring a bell?”
My blood runs cold. “How do you know him?” I ask on a shaky breath.
“He’s my father,” he spits.
My eyes widen, and I pale. No, that’s not possible. “Sean didn’t have any children,” I say.
James laughs maniacally. “He does, you just didn’t know. You see, when he was telling your mother he was going on business trips, he was actually coming to visit me. He was with my mother before he met yours. He cheated on my mom foryears with yours until he ultimately left her for your whore of a mother. I should have had my father full-time. I should have been the one to get his attention.”
My stomach recoils at his use ofattention. Vomit threatens to work its way up, but I hold it in.
“Well, if you knew jack about shit, then you would know I would have gladly preferred he’d given you theattentionyou so desperately crave. He’s a monster, and I didn’t ask for hisattention.”
“Oh, I know all about your false claims of sexual abuse. You lied about everything that happened to you. Then, you lied again during the trial for that bitch of a little girl who took her life and blamed my father for it. He would never have done any of that. My father is a good man,” he spits.
The air is sucked from my lungs at his statement, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I knew that was going to come back to haunt me. His use of ‘good man’ makes my stomach roil, and vomit works its way up my throat before I force it back down. I clench my fists, choosing not to let flight take over this time. No, this time, I choose to fight.
“Yourfatherlikes to touch little girls and threaten them and their family to get them to stay silent. He’s a predator, a piece of shit, a stain on this earth, and it looks like the apple doesn’t fall from the tree after all!” I scream, lifting my head up to get closer to him. Before I can register what’s happening, a loud smack fills the room, and a pain radiates across my cheek. I know I shouldn’t, but I do it anyway. “Seems as though you’re just as much of a little bitch as he is too. Only cowards put their hands on women.”
He turns red in the face, taking the scalpel and slamming it down into the top of my hand. I let out an ear-piercing scream, attempting to remove it but unable to as my other hand is still tied down. “You son of a bitch!”
Ripping the scalpel from my hand, he holds it to my throat. “I suggest you close that smart mouth of yours before I cut your tongue out,” he growls.
“Now, now, James. Is that any way to treat our guest?” a familiar voice rings out in the room. I pale, the blood draining from my face. Tears prickle in the backs of my eyes, and my anxiety ramps up a notch. My body is immediately going into flight mode, the fight I just had scurrying away with its tail tucked between its legs.
“Hello, Nikki. It’s so good to see you again,” he says, walking into the light and into my line of sight. He looks much older than the last time I saw him. My heart stops, and suddenly, I’m that little girl again, unable to speak with fear coursing through her veins every time she had to stare into the face of the man abusing her. Fighting against that instinct, finding what little bravery I can muster, and clawing my way out of those memories, I manage to find words.
