Page 15 of Corpse Roads

“You’ve been in the hospital for over a week. Lucky to be alive, I hear. So, are you going to tell me your name?”

Pain is still screaming through me, despite the steady drip, drip, drip of fluids being fed into my body. My voice comes out in a raw gasp.

“H-H-Harlow.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Harlow. I’d like to help you, but I need you to answer a few questions.”

Laura’s face flashes into my mind. Spit bubbles escaping her slack mouth, joining the trails of blood as she slowly turned blue with my hands at her throat. Her tears falling in silent rivers, leading her into the arms of death.

“Can you tell me how you got here?” Enzo asks, his thick brows furrowed in a frown.

He’s going to find out what I did and drag me back to Pastor Michaels’ basement from hell. My parents will systematically break every last bone in my body until nothing but crumbs remain.

They’ll slice the remaining unmarked places on my skin to remind me of the Lord Almighty and all he has done for me. Only when I’ve been thoroughly desecrated will my carcass be allowed to die.

“Breathe, Harlow. I’m losing you again.”

My eyes are screwed tightly shut. All I can see is the walls of my cage closing in, inch by suffocating inch. As my surroundings melt away, the warmth of someone’s hand on mine is like a punch to the chest.

Sometimes, the other girls would hold my hand, late at night. I fumble with my fingertips, snagging on a loose shirt sleeve. Is it Laura? Is she back? Have my sins been cleansed?

With the fabric bunched in my grip, I refocus on my breathing. In and out. The warmth is strangely comforting, like the softness of an invisible blanket draped over me.

“That’s it, good girl.”

The rough growl of a voice breaks my hazy dream. Laura isn’t holding me. A stranger is. A man. He’s going to kill me. Break me. Beat me. I have to start running.

“Deep breaths. Come on, like I showed you.”

Silent minutes trickle by as I wrestle with myself. The giant’s weight settling on my bed causes the springs to groan in protest. Rather than shuffling away, I grip his sleeve even tighter.

My legs curl closer to his body, seeking shelter from the biting chill of the basement in my head. It doesn’t go unnoticed. Gentle fingers prise my hand from his sleeve, taking it in his calloused palm instead.

Maybe he isn’t here to kill me.

Maybe… he’s a friend.

“I’m here with you. Focus on my voice, nothing else.”

“The l-l-light,” I stutter out.

“Too bright?”

His weight disappears from the bed. The sharp pressure on my eyes vanishes as the fluorescent lighting winks out, draping the room in early evening shadows.

I manage to open my eyes, breathing evenly again. Enzo has settled back on the edge of the hospital bed, watching me closely.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome back, little one.”

His midnight-black hair is buzzed short on the sides and left long on top, adding to his edgy, aloof vibe. He wears a plain black t-shirt and worn leather jacket over some strange, dark-green trousers.

It’s nothing like Pastor Michaels’ processional robes or his wife’s demure, floral frocks. The girls were always naked when brought down to join me, covered only by blood splatters.

“Where?” I manage to ask.

My throat aches with the single word. I’ll soon lose my voice. It doesn’t last long after so many years spent screaming into darkness.

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