Page 22 of Love Bleeds Red
The driver turns to face us and smiles. If I had the strength to wipe that look from his face, I would. “She’s not coming.”
Cat summons whatever strength she has left and lunges for him. She screams as her nails dig into his face. “You bastard! What did you do to her?”
“Get off me, you crazy bitch!”
Cat’s lost her mind, clawing and scratching, screaming for Jasmine. The driver slams his hand on the horn and a long blast echoes through the empty lot.
Sweeper appears at the van door within seconds, phone still pressed to his ear. Without missing a beat in his conversation, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a syringe. Cat sees it coming and fights harder, but the driver has her pinned now.
I’m frozen… watching this unfold like it’s a movie. It’s not real. None of this could be real. I want to help her, but what can I do?
“No, no, please—” she gasps, but Sweeper jabs the needle into her neck. There’s not a hint of emotion coming off him as he caps the syringe and fixes his gaze on me. I shake my head, myeyes widening. He must see that I’m done fighting, that I have nothing left to give, so he turns and closes the door.
Within moments, Cat’s wild thrashing slows and she sags back against the seat. Her eyes lock onto mine as the drug takes hold. They’re dark pools filled with grief and rage and a desperate plea that I can’t answer. It kills me.
“Don’t you fucking try anything,” the driver seethes as he glances at me through the rear view mirror. He shifts the van into reverse and cranks up the music—a pop song that played at Heat the night I was taken. My body trembles and I close my eyes, trying to block it out.
I scoot closer to Cat and take her hand in mine as her eyes gently close and her head comes to rest on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” I whisper, knowing it’s a lie. “I’ve got you.”
Jasmine—wherever you are, I hope you’re safe. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t help you.
It’sa rare quiet day in the house. We haven’t had one of those in the weeks since Jasmine was taken from us. Cat, Lydia, Elise, and I are sitting together on the floor of the main room watching comedy reruns on the huge flat screen. The one nice piece of “furniture” they have in this house. Yuri keeps pacing in and out of the room, keeping an eye on us, but there’s been no sign of King today, or any of the other brutes that usually hang around being loud and obnoxious and leering at us all day.
We were able to shower this morning, and were given pizza this afternoon. If I didn’t know better, it’s almost like a normal weekend hangout with friends. But I do know better. My stomach’s been in knots all day waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I pick at my dried bottom lip until it stings and I taste blood. With Yuri on a call, pacing the hallway, Lydia nudges me. “How’s your head?”
I shared whatever details of the night with the girls as soon as I could when we were dropped back off at the house that night. Lydia, who I learned is the oldest of us at thirty and a mom of two, has been keeping her eye on me and Cat since.
“It’s doing okay today, but it hurt like a bitch to wash my hair.”
She reaches out a gentle hand and pushes my hair away from my ear to check on the slowly healing lump. If only she saw all the bruises on my body, I’m sure she’d freak out. I know I did when I looked in the mirror the next day.
“Let’s still keep an eye on it,” she says.
There’s so much I want to ask her. All of them, really. We only get short spurts of time together like this and more often than not, someone, if not all of us, are given sedatives. But not today.
“I don’t trust him,” Cat seethes. “He’s being too nice today. They’ve gotta be planning something for tonight. I fucking know it.”
She’s probably right, but I don’t want to say that out loud.
Elise—who’s normally quiet, whether from her natural personality or from being overly sedated, I don’t know—drums her fingers on her thigh and suddenly speaks up. “I don’t think they are.” I turn to her and notice that there’s sweat beading on her pale brows even though the room is chilly. It’s making her light hair stick to her forehead in damp strands. She wipes it away with a jerky hand. “I overheard Yuri on the phone. Something about laying low for a few days.”
Both Cat and Lydia stare at her for an extra beat, until Cat asks, “You feeling alright?”
Elise takes a second to answer, once again pushing her hair off her face. “I’m fine.”
Cat narrows her eyes. “When was your last dose? You’re fucking shaking.”
Lydia, takes her hand and squeezes it. “What can I do to help?”
Elise releases a shuddered breath. “Fuck, I don’t know.” She pulls from Lydia’s grip and cradles her face with her hands. “It’s been two days. I need something.”
I look to Cat and Lydia and we’re all sporting the same expression of helpless concern. Cat, being Cat, gets to her feet. “I’ll go say something to Yuri. What’s the worst he can do to me?”
Her unspoken words hang in the air. She’s already gone through hell. What else is there?
“No,” I say, standing up from the floor. “I’ll go.”
