Page 8 of The Fix
“Sure, if you like jailbait,” the other replied casually.
“Hell yeah, I do. Haven’t been with a virgin in a while. There’s nothin’ like ridin’ a virgin. You ever popped a cherry, Trig?” The vomit rose higher, and Cami swallowed it down.
There was a pause as though Trig was chewing. “Yeah, popped a few cherries. But I prefer the feel of a broken-in pussy.”
“Rich bitches ain’t got no broken-in pussies. They get surgery for that shit.”
The man named Trig let out a soft guffaw. “Man, you’re stupid as hell.”
Cami took in slow, deep breaths, the conversation solidifying her deepest fear. These men weren’t only here to rob them of their cash and jewels. They meant to take much more than that.
Dad is unconscious. He can’t help you. And no one else is coming home. You’re going to have to try to help yourself. And then Mom and Elle.She had only two options—comply and hope they’d take what they wanted afterward and leave, or try to find a way to get free and fight. The first option would mean enduring even more unspeakable traumas than they already had, but she didn’t currently see any way to make the second option happen.
Movement in the mirror over her dresser across the room caught her attention. She could see Mrs. Willoughby in her yard, trimming her roses. She was behind a fence that separated their properties and was blocked by the branches of a tree when she moved to certain spots. But she wasthere, so close.
And yet so very far away.
Her heart jumped and then began pounding, even though she knew Mrs. Willoughby couldn’t see her where she lay. And she wouldn’t catch a glance of Trig when he entered the room, either, as long as he went directly to Cami, as he’d done so far. But Cami could see Mrs. Willoughby, and if she had a way to signal her ...
Cami twisted her head to look at her bedside table next to her, just beside the window. She’d pushed it away from her bed so she couldaccess the power cord to charge her phone, and she regretted that now. Deeply. Only a lamp and an alarm clock and a few books were on top, but there was something in the drawer she might be able to use.
The drawer, however, might as well have been located in another town for all the good it did her.
Her eyes darted to the mirror across from her again. Mrs. Willoughby was out tending to her garden, but she probably wouldn’t be for long.Think, think.
Cami glanced at her unbound feet, picturing an unlikely possibility. But as improbable as it might be, she couldn’t conceive of another way. And her time was limited. She had a feeling the monsters would both be back upstairs the moment they were done raiding their kitchen.
Cami toed off her tennis shoes, pausing when one dropped to the floor with a quiet thunk. But down below, a man laughed—AJ, she thought—and Trig made a comment in return. Cami focused back on the task of using each alternating foot to remove her socks as well.
She glanced back to the bedside table again, and then she pulled herself as far up to the headboard as she could and twisted her body as she attempted to reach the drawer with her toe. The way her arms had been tied, however, limited her mobility in that direction, and so while she came close, she’d have to wrench her arm from its socket if she stood a chance of her toe connecting with the drawer handle.
She lay back straight and moved as far down the bed as she could, until her arms were straight over her head. This could work, but it was going to put her flexibility to the test. Thank God for cheerleading. Without it, she’d never even attempt this.
Cami gathered her breath and then she raised her hips and used the bed beneath her to thrust backward and come at the drawer from upside down. She was closer but not quite there. Still, she refused to give up, even though the awkward position cut off her limited air and made her sweat. She was also at risk of all her weight going over the bed, and if that happened, it might actually wrench her shoulder from its socket.
Her muscles screamed. She feared she’d cause her own blackout with the way she was bending her neck. But she gritted her teeth and pressed harder, her vision blurring as her toe touched the handle. Her muscles were quaking now, but she refused to quit. She was almost there. She hooked her big toe through the handle, and then she pulled the drawer open, little by little, sweat dripping down the side of her cheek the way the tears had done earlier.
Okay, okay. That’s good. That’s enough.Her abdominal muscles shook, and her spine and back muscles stretched to their limit as she carefully extricated her toe from the handle, knowing that if she did it too quickly, she risked bringing the nightstand with her, the sound of which would surely have the two devils in her room within seconds.
With her toe free, she slowly rolled forward, lowering her body as gently as possible.
She gave herself until the count of ten to rest and get her bearings, after the dizziness that the lack of oxygen and the holding of the upside-down pose had caused. Then, once again, she moved her legs to the side, using her left leg to reach inside the drawer that, now it was open, was close enough to access.
The smell of whatever they’d microwaved drifted up the stairs and made her stomach rumble with hunger. She’d felt so queasy all day, she’d barely eaten a bite of anything.
But she pushed aside all thoughts of the ongoing queasiness of late and her stop at the drugstore. There was no room for that, not now.
Keep eating, you greedy bastards.
She felt the smooth, cool top of the compact mirror and curled her toes around the edge, lifting slowly. But her feet were so clammy that it slipped out of her grasp, falling back into the drawer with a clink. Cami froze, but when there was no indication they’d heard the sound from below, she swung her legs back onto the bed and dried her foot on the bedding.
Out the window, Mrs. Willoughby was still there.Stay, stay, don’t move. Please. There’s only a little bit of sunlight left.
Cami swung her legs to the side again, twisting her waist as far as it would go and repeating the movement she’d just made to pick up the compact. She gripped it with her toes again and then slowly she raised her foot from the drawer and brought her legs back around, releasing her toes from the small mirror once it was over the bed.
It dropped to the quilt, and Cami let out an exhale. It took her only a few seconds to roll back over and push the drawer shut so the two men wouldn’t know what she’d done.
Then she used her feet to open the clasp on the compact, her heart galloping through several failed attempts. But thankfully, it was loose enough that it only took a minute or so, and then Cami wiped her soles on the bedding again and picked up the mirror with her feet, holding it securely between them and tilting it toward the window across the way, using the mirror on the opposite side of the room as a visual.
