Page 83 of Lost Without You (Chasing Olivia 2)

“Are those the same pills in the purple case you keep in the nightstand next to your bed?”

“Yes, they—” I stop short, realizing he could have done something to my pills. “Evan, you couldn’t have.”

“It’s called a placebo. They looked identical to the real thing, didn’t they?”

“Someone help me, please!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Evan charges around to the side of the bed and shoves something into my mouth. I gag as it hits the back of my throat.

“There’s no one on the island, but I’m not taking any chances.” I struggle, trying to break free of the ropes, but it’s useless. A sardonic grin crosses his face and whatever he’s thinking, I know it’s not good. “I think we should get down to some baby making, what do you think?”

Before opening my eyes, I strain my ears to pick up any sounds in the room. Staying perfectly still for what seems like an eternity, I determine Evan isn’t in the room and open my eyes. My hands are no longer tied over my head, but bound together, attached to a long chain. A light shines from inside the bathroom and I’m grateful for Evan’s laziness. There is a small transom window above the shower, giving me just enough light to see once I’m in there. Turning slightly, I pull the chain to see if there are enough links to walk to the bathroom and struggle to get out of bed.

Pulling my legs over the edge of the bed, I attempt to stand. I don’t have the strength and collapse face first onto the floor. Fuck, I need to move. Rolling onto my side, I slowly crawl across the cold wood floor until I reach the toilet. After a few attempts, I manage to get myself situated.

Sitting here, I try to think. How the fuck am I going to get out of here? I pray Chase doesn’t believe my text, but after the fight we had, I’m not so sure. God, why didn’t I just call him?

Finishing, I lean on the sink, trying to stand. My legs are weak, but they’re keeping me up for the moment. I take a good look at myself in the mirror. My face is bloody and bruised, my right eye puffy and swollen. My lips are split, covered in dry blood. I look like shit, and it mirrors how I feel. Afraid at what I’ll see, I look down at my body. I can’t find a place that doesn’t have a bruise, especially the insides of my legs.

I start to sob and grip the roots of my knotty hair, pulling hard, trying to wake from this nightmare. I’m trapped in hell. I scream at the top of my lungs, praying someone will hear me. With every fiber of my being, I yell until my throat is dry and my voice is nothing but a whisper.

Falling to the floor, I lay here, frozen, filled with incapacitating hopelessness. By the time anyone finds me, I’ll either be knocked up or dead. I should just let Evan do whatever he wants and if I’m lucky, maybe he’ll kill me. The pain is too much to bear, I just want it over.

As I lay on the floor, my mind begins to wander, and I think about Chase. I’m tired, I’m beaten, but I’m not ready to give up on him. I know he’ll find me. He has to. Trying to push the thoughts out of my head, I force myself to stop crying and focus on getting out of here.

Slowly, I walk back to the bed. With the little bit of light in the room, I hold the chain out, following it from my wrists to where it’s attached to the bed. If I can somehow manage to get it loose, I can get the hell out of here.

I feel around, finding the chain attached to some kind of lock on a pole within the wrought iron frame. As hard as I could pull, I would never be able to break that. The rope, however, is a different story. If I can find something to loosen the knot, I can slither my wrists from the noose around them.

Following the light back to the bathroom, I shove the knot in between the sink head, twisting and turning as I go. Back and forth, over and over, using all my strength. But no matter how much I rub, how much I twist, the knot holds steadfast.

Slamming my hands on the sink in frustration, I attempt to give it one last try, until I hear the front door open. If he catches me here, I’m toast. Pushing through the pain, I rush out of the bathroom, collapsing on the bed. I’m able to pull the covers over my beaten body, without a minute to spare.

“Liv, I’m home,” he yells from the other room. As he enters the bedroom, an evil smile overtakes his lips. “I see you’ve been up and around.” Evan points to a trail of blood leading to the bathroom, and another one coming back.

“I had to pee,” I whisper.

“Well, if you can be a good girl, I’ll leave the chain on. Otherwise, I’ll tie you back up to the bed.”

“I’ll be good,” I plead.

“I know you will. Here, I brought you something to eat.” Evan places a paper bag on the bed. “It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I know how much you love those,” he mutters, a trace of sadness in his voice. Next to the bag is a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I whisper, my voice weak. I’m hesitant to take either. What if the water is drugged, or worse, he put poison in the sandwich? Seeing my hesitation, he says, firmer, “I said, I brought you a sandwich.”

I’m not hungry,” I insist.

“Don’t make me angry,” Evan growls. “Eat the fucking sandwich.” Unwrapping it, he practically shoves it in my face.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” Taking the sandwich in my hands, I nibble the bread. Once I take a few bites, I realize how hungry I am and devour it within seconds. A smile crosses Evan’s face for a fleeting moment.

“That’s better.” Evan opens the bottle of water for me, placing it in my attached hands. The water is down my dry throat and the bottle empty before he can put the cap down. “Thirsty, were we?”

“Yes,” I admit. I’m not really sure how long I’ve been here, and this is the first time I’ve had anything to eat or drink, but I know I’ll need everything ounce of strength in order to escape.

After I’ve f

inished, Evan stands and starts to leave, but I stop him. “Evan,” I say as sweetly as I can muster.

“Yes, Liv?”

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