Page 17 of Room Ten: Praise Times Three

5

LETI

Idon’t know how to describe the feelings I have.

Relief. Gratitude. Anger.

I’ve never wished somebody harm in my life, but I want nothing more than for the men who saved me to find the man who threatened to do horrible things to me and hurt him—badly.

Perhaps I should feel blessed he never got to carry out any of his threats. I mean, of course I am thankful, but every time I close my eyes, I see his face. And I don’t think the fear will go away until I know he’s dead.

We drive into downtown Peoria amongst row after row of cute little ranchers inhabited by the blue-collar workers of the lower middle class. The house we pull into the driveway of is quaint, with a little postage stamp yard and blue shutters on the windows.

“When did we get this house?” Caiden asks.

Soren, the man who has been sitting next to me with the gentlest touch I’ve ever felt, responds. “We bought it two months ago. Finished construction on it a couple of weeks ago.”

The man sitting in the passenger seat, Reese, shakes his head. “We are smack dab in the middle of suburbia. Are we sure this is safe?”

Soren closes the laptop that’s been on his lap since we climbed into the truck. “This thing has the security of the White House, but only fourteen hundred square feet to manage. We’ll be fine here.”

He points to a keypad on the garage door. “The code is seven-six-five-three-pound, and when we get inside, there will be a garage door opener on the bench.”

Reese jumps out of the truck and opens the garage door.

Caiden drives us in and waits until the garage door closes behind us before shutting off the engine. He then turns around in his seat to look at me. “How are you holding up? Are you ready to take a shower and change into some clean clothes?”

I try to give him a warm smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Yes, please.”

“One of us will run out while you’re showering to grab food. Is there anything in particular you would like to eat?”

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“We understand.”

When we exit the garage, I have Caiden on one side of me and Soren on the other. Both reach out to touch me and then drop their hands back to their sides, as if they’re not sure they should. Honestly, right now their touch would comfort me, but I have no idea how to tell them that, so instead, I wrap the blanket even tighter around my shoulders and scurry through the door Reese holds open into the back of the home.

The house is cozy on the inside and has a new car smell to it. It’s obvious we are the first ones to be inside after they remodeled it, the smell of fresh paint strong.

“Come this way.” Soren escorts me to a room down a long hallway. He opens up a drawer in the chest and pulls out a brand new pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. “I’m sorry these haven’t been washed, but it’s this or you have to wear some of our clothes.”

“Could I wear your clothes?”

He brings his eyes up to mine. “If that is what you want.”

I glanced down at my dirty feet on the carpet. “I would like that, as long as it’s not an inconvenience.”

“Not at all, Leti.” Soren rubs the back of his neck and looks around the room. I’d guess he’s as socially awkward as I am, judging by the way he fidgets. But how can that be when he’s one of the three men to rescue me? “There’s soap and shampoo in the shower, fresh towels on the sink, spare toothbrush and toothpaste in the drawer—most everything you need for tonight. Tomorrow, if you have specific things you want, I will get them for you.”

He turns to walk out and then looks over his shoulder. “You can close the bathroom door, but I would prefer you don’t lock it—just in case you need us. I will go get your clothes and put them on the bed and then close the door to give you privacy. You’re safe with us. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

I watch as he walks out, closing the door behind him. Then I walk into the bathroom and close the door, dropping the blanket once I’m utterly alone. I turn on the water until it’s scalding hot. Even though it’s the middle of summer, I feel frozen on the inside, and my skin feels dirty from being touched by a man who had no right to do so.

Sitting on the shower floor, I curl back into the ball I was behind the chair. Every time I close my eyes, I smell the stale cigarette stench of that recliner, hear the horror film playing in the living room, and feel his body on top of mine.

Him. I never heard his name. I heard none of their names. So I guess I’ll stick with Scary Guy, Frat Boy, and the woman in charge as I replay the last I don’t know how many hours of my life.

Maybe that’s the most disorientating thing about all of this? How long since I woke up and dressed for my daily jog? Was that this morning? Yesterday? Two days ago?

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