Page 21 of Love Bleeds Red
Jasmine leans against the wall, her curls wet and plastered against her cheeks. Her lingerie torn, breasts barely covered.
The monster who used me walks toward her. “You look so pretty with tears running down your face. Come, join your friend.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
BAILEY - BEFORE
“No!”I cry. “Don’t touch her. Take me.” The words come out automatically.
I lift my body as much as I can and grab him around the middle, digging my nails in hard.
“Bitch,” he grunts, and backhands me across the face. Jasmine’s wails combine with my own, but I won’t stop fighting.
For her, I have to try.
I scramble, using every ounce of strength I have to lift my heavy limbs. “Hide!” I yell to Jasmine, but she’s already slumped against the wall.
The man’s face turns beet red, his breath coming in angry huffs. Before I know what’s happening, he yanks me by the hair, tossing me off the bed. My head cracks against the nightstand and everything goes black.
“… what happened to her?”
“Told you she was a fighter… They all fight at first.”
My skull throbs with each word. I know one of those voices.
King.
There’s no crying… Why isn’t there any crying?
I cup the side of my head, where an egg-sized knot has formed. It’s so fucking sore, I could vomit. Then the images come back to me… How he threw me off the bed. Jasmine slumped on the floor.
A warm hand touches my arm and I cower, forcing my eyes open.
“Bailey,” he says. “I’m going to help you up now. It’s time to go.”
His voice is familiar. Even without seeing his face, I know who he is. He was there that night at the pharmacy.Him.The one who gave me water when I came to, took me to the bathroom, sent me away.Sweeper.“Where is she?” I rasp.
He ignores my question and grabs underneath my arms. I don’t struggle… I can’t. But I ask again, “Where’s Jasmine?”
King’s cellphone rings and he glances at the screen before sighing. “I need to take this. Bring her to the van, and I’ll meet you up front.”
Sweeper nods, and as he drags me to my unsteady feet, I notice a crimson stain on the carpet next to the bed. My pulse kicks up and every terrible thought I tried to keep hidden floods my mind.
Jasmine is hurt. Or worse. Where did they take her?
Sweeper leads me to the bathroom, standing over me as I use the toilet and clean myself up with shaking hands. I’ll never be clean though. Not really. Sweeper’s quiet and calm, like this is a mundane task for him. Somehow, I almost wish he were angry and rough and mean. I hate him more for offering quiet indifference.
He wraps a threadbare towel over my shoulders and guides me outside. The cool air assaults my skin, waking my tired eyes, but I immediately start shivering and clutching the towel tighter.
He doesn’t say another word until we reach the idling van where Cat already sits waiting, looking just as worn out andbroken as I feel. Her eyes dart past me, brows furrowed. I shake my head subtly.She’s not here.
Her eyes widen in response.
“Get in,” Sweeper says to me. His phone rings, so he drops my arm and I have to grip the doorframe to keep steady. He checks the screen and says to the driver, “Take them back… and feed them first. Whatever they want.” He reaches into his pocket and shoves a stack of bills at the driver like we’re groceries he’s paying for.
“Got it, Boss.”
Sweeper turns away to answer his phone, but Cat’s voice rips through the quiet, sounding raw and desperate. “No, we can’t leave. Where is she? Where’s Jasmine?”
