Page 53 of Slaying for Santa
The small, scared voice at my ear has my sluggish brain trying to fire up, but the path to it is blocked.
“Bell, please wake up.”
Shit. Am I hallucinating?
“Please,” the voice whispers through a sob. “Wake up. I want to go home. I want my daddy.”
I can’t be hallucinating. She sounds so real.
Slowly, I manage to open one lid to see a blurry head of dark hair hovering at my side.
“Bell?”
“Libs,” I mumble as relief washes over me. “You okay?”
A loud sob escapes her. “I want my daddy. Please,” she cries, clawing at my arm like she never wants to let go. “I just want my daddy.”
I never knew my heart could break while woozy like this, but it fucking does.
“Help me… sit up,” I slur, forcing my other eye open, and Libi stands tugging frantically on my arm. Her small five-year-old strength hardly helps at all, but the fact she’s here, and alert is what fuels me to push off the cold concrete floor.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, hiccupping on another sob.
“The bad man forced drugs into me, sweetie. I’ll be alright,” I mutter, leaning forward to reach for my boot, pulling out the first blade from the heel, and then the other.
The room spins a little, and another round of relief washes over me as I realise I was injected with a sedative, and not something more potent. It was probably a fast-acting sedative, and I wonder if that’s what they used on Libi when they kidnapped her.
Probably.
“Is that a knife?” Libi asks, her little socked feet move into my line of sight, and I nod, glancing up to look at her.
She’s still in her black nightie with a skull head reindeer on it.
Fucking hell. How could anyone want to hurt or scare this beautiful little angel?
Her dark curls are a wild mess, and her big blue eyes are brimming with tears, those rosy cheeks soaked like she’s been crying for hours.
She must have been so scared.
“Your eyes look funny, Bell.”
I drop them from hers as I nod, hating that I probably look a little drunk.
“It’s the drugs, Libs. They are making it hard for me to move fast.”
“I’ll help you.” She holds out her hand, and I smile, I think, moving the two blades to my left hand while placing my right in her outstretched palm.
I take in the space as Libi holds my hand. It’s a small room that looks like it’s meant for storage, but there’s nothingin here but a couple of buckets, a stack of cardboard boxes, and a sink.
Shit. A sink.
Dropping Libi’s hand, I rush over to it, testing the tap, and putting my blades down on the edge, smiling when it turns on. Bending, I drink straight out of the faucet, the cool rush of water an instant relief as it fills my mouth and I drink it down, hoping it will help to rehydrate my veins and flush the sedative faster.
Probably won’t but fuck it, that’s what I’m telling myself.
I finish up by splashing my face with the water, and then offer Libi some, hoisting her up a little so she can duck her head into the sink to drink the same way I did.
I don’t know how long she’s been here or if they’ve fed her, but I need her strong so we can try to escape.
