“There’s an abandoned train somewhere out there. I found it the night of the Culling. I was going to follow that out,” I say. In the back of my brain, my logical side is screaming at me to stop telling him my plans in case he betrays me. But the larger side of me wants to trust Rio. So fucking badly, just this once.
“And the guards outside?” he questions, voice low.
I shake my head, a tear wiggling free. “I don’t know,” I cry. “I don’t-there’s no way-“
“Shut up, st?pido,” he barks again, keeping his voice quiet. “I’m going to go downstairs, and I’ll take care of the guards. I’ll leave the front door unlocked. Whatever you decide to do, and wherever you go, that’s your decision.”
A knot forms between my brow, and it takes several seconds to wrangle my scattered thoughts back into one direction.
“Rio, you can’t,” I protest. “You can’t risk your sister’s life for me.”
The muscle in his jaw pulsates, and his dark eyes bore into mine. I’ve no idea what the hell he’s thinking.
He swallows. “I’ll figure something out with her. I think I know where she is.”
Then, it clicks.
“Let’s make a deal,” I rush out. “You help me get out of here, Z will save your sister. Tell me her name and where she is, and he will get her out.”
His mouth opens and closes, and for the first time, I’ve made Rio speechless.
“You have yourself a deal.”
“Wait, my tracking device. I-I can’t leave with it in me.”
“Turn around,” he demands, swirling his finger. Biting my lip, I do as he says, shivering when he roughly sweeps my hair to the side.
“How are-” A sharp gasp cuts off my question when I feel something sharp slice and dig into the back of my neck.
“Jesus, a fucking warning next time,” I spit, cringing as the tip of the blade digs into my skin.
“He’s not here, mam?, but I am. And I need you to stop wiggling.”
I huff, feeling warm liquid trailing down my back from the wound, and after several painful seconds, the metal pops out. He flicks the device onto my bed and then leans in, his breath brushing across the shell of my ear.
“Katerina Sanchez, she’s fifteen years old. I believe she’s with a groomer by the name of Lillian Berez. Last time I saw a picture of her was three months ago, and she was standing in front of a sunflower field.”
He releases me, and steps away while I turn to face him. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
He gives me a look that tells me he’ll figure out a way to haunt me if I don’t. Maybe he’ll come to Parsons and join the rest of the ghosts in my house.
“One of Rocco’s friends is sleeping on the couch. Be quiet, and it should be fine. He’s out cold from the drugs.”
“Okay,” I nod, feeling a burst of gratitude that I’ve no idea how the fuck to express. He’ll probably smack me if I try. Rio hates any type of appreciation as much as he does attention. And maybe that’s more because he hates himself.
“Tell your man to give me a head start, yeah?” he says, backing away.
I frown. “Run fast.”
Slowly, his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and his gaze drifts over me one last time as if committing me to memory.
“Bye, princesa.”
“Bye, Rio,” I whisper.
And then he leaves, his footsteps silent.
I don’t waste another second. I rush over to my dresser-which happens to be right by Sydney’s body-slipping and sliding in the blood coating my feet. I tear through the drawers and hastily pull on a long-sleeved shirt and then a sweatshirt. I grab a pair of socks next, round the bed, and start wiping the bottoms of my feet as best as I can on the thin blanket.
I pull my socks and shoes on next, grab my journal from the floorboard, and quietly make my way down the steps.
Fear has kept me in my bedroom at night. It prevented me from going down the steps and out the front door, knowing that there was going to be someone outside waiting for me.
It’s controlled me for over two months, kept me compliant, and now I no longer have that option. I’ve killed someone, and if I don’t leave, I’ll be next. No, I’ll be praying for it, but I know they wouldn’t let death embrace me so easily.
I snag a grocery bag under the sink, cringing every time it crinkles. Then, I find a few bottles of water in the cabinet and a box of granola bars. It’ll have to be enough. I can’t afford any more weight than that. Next, I slide open the drawer and grab two large knives for protection.
My plan is to make it to the tracks and then follow them out of here. Hopefully, I’ll find shelter in one of the trailers when I need to take a break. I’m anticipating that they’ll assume I took the road and focus their search party in that direction when they find me missing.
They see me as a diamond because I have Zade’s love, but they fail to remember that’s what forged me into a stone so unbreakable. He’s taught me a lot about myself and who I really am. But most importantly, he’s taught me how to persevere.
Just as I’m leaving the kitchen, I hear a loud snore, and I pause, my heart picking up speed. Rocco’s friends tend to stay the night when they get too fucked up, and I imagine it’d take a stampede of elephants to wake them. But I can’t be too sure-it just depends on the amount of drugs that are running through their systems.
Peeking around past the entryway, I see a grungy man laid out on the couch, mouth half-open. It’s Jerry. He’s one of the regulars here and also one of the more vindictive ones when Sydney and I receive punishments.
There’s a small part of me tempted to walk over and stab one of my knives into his throat, yet I can’t bring myself to do it. Despite how badly I want to murder every single person in this house, I’m not a ruthless killer like Zade.
At least, I didn’t use to be. I guess I’m not so sure anymore.
Heart in my throat, I slowly and silently make my way towards the door, jumping when one of his snores is particularly loud and obnoxious.
I’m halfway through the room when I hear my plastic bag give out, and one of the water bottles breaks right through, loudly smacking off the floor and rolling several feet.
Just barely, I bite back a gasp, trapping it on the tip of my tongue right alongside my erratic heartbeat. My wide eyes snap to Jerry. His snores have cut off, but he appears to be sleeping still.
A dangerous amount of adrenaline is coursing through my bloodstream, and my vision goes spotty from how hard my heart is pounding.
I cup the bottom of the bag and tiptoe to the water bottle, cringing when the sack crinkles in my hand. Then I crouch down and grab the water bottle, keeping my movements slow.
Screwing my eyes shut, it takes several seconds to try and calm my heartbeat. My hands are clammy, and sweat is breaking out alongside my hairline and lower back. I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking terrified, and I’m too consumed in it to feel any type of thrill. It’s just that… pure terror.
Breathing out softly, I stand again and try to recover the bottom of the bag, but before I can, another water bottle slips through, once more crashing to the floor.
I choke, and as if moving through molasses, I lift my head to look at Jerry.
His eyes are wide open and pinned directly on me.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.