Tap. Tap. Tap.
I listen intently as the light tapping continues. I can’t decide how to react.
After a moment, I decide to reach out, hopeful it is the little girl. “Hello,” I whisper as quietly as possible through the wall.
“Hi,” a tiny voice replies. She sounds so sweet. So innocent.
I lean, resting my face on the wall.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I think so, but I’m so scared. I think he wants to hurt me. I just want to go home,” she cries. Her tiny voice is full of heart wrenching emotion. I’m desperate to reach out and take her in my arms, to make this all go away. But I can’t. She releases out a whimper and it crushes my heart.
“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I wish I could help you.”
“Will you talk to me, please? Just for a little while. I like your voice. You’re very pretty.” There is a small bit of hope in her words.
I let out a little chuckle at how sweet she is. “Why thank you. You’re a little cutie pie yourself,” I sing back to her.
She lets out a little chuckle. “Cutie Pie. I’m seven, not three,” she giggles.
I can’t help but laugh a little. This girl is super sweet and full of attitude and confidence; just as every seven-year-old girl should be. I can’t help but sigh at the thought that she probably will not remain this way. It won’t be long before she is broken, just like me.
“What’s your name, my little firecracker?” I whisper through the wall.
“Hope. My name’s Hope,” she coos.
“Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Hope. Shall we be friends?”
“I’d like that,” she whispers.
Cole
Home doesn’t feel like home anymore.
There’s an eerie silence as I walk down the hall past Kennedy’s room. I pause for a second before resting my hand flat against the door. I slowly push it open. I scan the room. Nothing has changed. Nothing apart from the fact that Kennedy isn’t here. I walk over to the bed and drop down, lying flat on my back with my arm over my face. This was more shit than I’ve ever had to deal with before, and fuck, I feel like I’m falling apart. What a fucked up, god damn mess! I have to think about what I am going to do next. Something. Anything.
I turn my face toward the bed and I’m hit by Kennedy’s scent. The fruity, warm fresh scent that has become so comforting to me, now represents the sorrow of what I have lost. The piece of my life that is missing and may never return. The thought of never seeing her again causes nausea to rack my body. I run to the bathroom, lunging toward the toilet. My body purges the entire contents of my stomach. I hock and spit into the toilet once I finish, trying to rid the sour taste that remains in my mouth. I’m on my knees, clutching onto the toilet when my mother walks into the bathroom.
“Oh, Cole, you’re not sick, are you?” Mom kneels beside me, resting her arm on my shoulder. She passes me some tissue paper. I take it, wiping across my mouth.
“Is it something you’ve eaten?” my mom asks with concern.
“I’m just sick with worry, mom. The thought of Ken and this whole shitty mess – it’s more than I can handle.”
She shoots me a look and I know it’s for swearing. “I’ll let that one slide,” she chuckles, pointing her finger directly at me. “We are doing everything we can to find her, Cole. The police have several leads, and they’ve visited several properties, but no luck yet. Believe me when I say, I won’t give up on her, Cole. We will find her; you mark my words.” Mom speaks with such certainty. One thing I’m sure of is that my mom is a formidable woman who will fight, tooth and nail, for someone she loves or believes in.
“What if they don’t find her, mom? I can’t stop the images that flash through my mind. I keep thinking of the horrible stories of what they did to her. What if it’s all happening again? Or worse, mom. What if they kill her?” My voice strains at the sound of my own questions; questions I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to. My chest tightens as the scenarios race through my mind.
I look over at mom who grimaces. She looks at me, shaking her head. “No, Cole, you can’t think like this. We need to remain positive.” Her voice is brittle as if she’s about to cry.
I turn and hug my mom tightly, holding her as we kneel together, neither one of us wanting to release our hold.
An unexpected bang on the front door causes us to part.
“I’ll go get that. You get cleaned up.”
“Thanks, mom. For everything.”
I walk over to the sink, turning on the faucet. I splash cold water over my face in an attempt to calm myself. I hold on to the side on the countertop and take a look at myself in the mirror. I’m a fucked up mess. I run my hand down my face. The three days’ worth of stubble scratches along my palm. I really need to shave, but my mind is focusing on more important things.
“Cole,” my mother calls. “Ash is here to see you.”
“I’ll be right down,” I bellow. I head out of the bathroom, skipping as fast as I can down the stairs.
I see Ash standing awkwardly by the front door. He smiles wanly.
It’s clear to see this is difficult for him. I reach out, resting my hand on his arm “Hey, how you holding up, buddy?”
“Hey, I’m tip top. Just fan-fucking-tastic, Cole!” he grates out.
So, okay. He’s being sarcastic. This isn’t awkward at all!
I swallow nervously, not quite knowing what to say.
“You look like shit, Cole,” Ash snaps.
“Jeez, this isn’t going well at all is it, Ash? Are you pissed with me or something?”
“Nah, man. Don’t worry your pretty little head or your gorgeous body. I’m just worried, you know. I wanted to check to see how you are, and if you had heard anything about Ken.” He releases a heavy sigh. “Shit, how did this happened, Cole?”
I glance over to my mother who’s sitting in the lounge area. I decide some privacy might be the way forward.
“Let’s go grab a drink and sit outside. Then we can talk.”
“Lead the way.”
I walk through the sliding door to the outside area. I hold out my hand toward the bench, indicating for him to take a seat. “Coke okay?”
“Fine,” he answers simply.
Sweet Jesus, Ash is in a funny sort of mood. I grab us drinks from the outside fridge and slump beside him, handing him a bottle. I bring my ankle up, crossing one leg on top of the other.
“So, I spoke to Jake today. There’s no change with Abbey. She’s still critical and they think they’ll need to operate on her to relieve some of the swelling on her brain.” Ash sighs loudly, dragging his hands over his face. He slumps forward, his body rocking as he starts to silently cry. “Fuck, I’m going to lose her, just like we lost Kennedy.”
I frown. “Don’t say that, Ash. I can’t deal with that. I know this is so fucking difficult for everyone.” I run my hands through my hair. “Fuck, I was planning my future with this girl, the girl I love. Now she’s gone and her best friend is in the hospital in a god damn coma!” I jump to my feet and start pacing the pool. “We need to stay positive,” I snap.
“We need a plan,” Ash replies.
I study his face, wondering what on Earth he means. “A plan? What sort of plan?”
“A plan to find Kennedy.”
“Oh yeah, I’m all ears. Tell me more.” My interest piques at the thought of Ash having a plan.
“Well, when I say plan I was hoping you two might have some big ideas,” Ash retorts.
I sigh loudly, feeling deflated once again. “Two?” I quiz. What the fuck is he talking about?
“Yeah, as in you and Pete. I told him we would meet him at the bar to work on a plan.”
We head over to Joey’s Bar to meet Pete. As we walk in, I see him propped against the bar, already chatting up Lizzy. She looks at me and Ash as we make our way over to the bar, alerting Pete that we’ve arrived.
“Hey, man.” Pete turns, pulling me
into a tight man hug. He pats me loudly on the back and grabs my face. “How you holding up, bro.”
I glare at him.
“Stupid fucking question, I guess! Hey, man,” he addresses Ash, resting his hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, Pete, you getting the fucking drinks, or are we just going to stand here looking pretty all night?”
“Hell yeah. Drinks all around, Lizzy. Whatever the guys want.”
We order our drinks and stay sitting at the bar. Lizzy plonks them down in front of us before leaning between me and Ash.
“Hey,” she says cautiously. “I know things are pretty shitty right now, but I warned Pete when he arrived, so it’s only fair I warn you both too.”
We look between each other, not sure what the fuck is going on.
“Chuck’s in tonight. You know, the biker guy you had trouble with last time.” I nod, indicating that I’m following her. “And I don’t want a repeat of last time, guys. You get me?” She raises her eyebrows at us and gently nods her head in his direction. “Got it?” she points at us.
“I’m not here to cause any trouble, Liz, just to have a drink with the guys, you know?”
“Cool, glad we could come to some understanding! I’ll leave you guys to it then,” she says, sauntering off sexily. She winks at Pete as she makes her way toward the other side of the bar.
“Phew, man, that women makes me hot under the collar,” Pete starts pulling at the collar of his shirt in exaggeration.
I let out a loud sigh.
“Shit, I didn’t mean to be insensitive!”
“I know.” I want to say more, but I can’t find the words. So instead, we sit in awkward silence.
“Any news on Kennedy or Abbey?” Pete asks tentatively. “I haven’t heard from Jake today, have you?”
“I’ve gotten news on Abbey,” Ash states. “It’s not looking good, Pete.”
Ash grabs a napkin, placing it over his eyes. I’m sure he’s trying to hold in the tears.
“What am I missing?” Pete quizzes.
“Abbey needs to have surgery to release the swelling on her brain, or some shit. It’s not looking good, but apparently this is the only option for her.”
“Oh shit, guys. I’m so fucking sorry. Let’s try and stay positive though, yeah?” His voice is warm with enthusiasm.
Ash straightens himself, pushing his shoulders back. “You’re right, Pete. Abbey would want us to remain positive and hopeful, so that’s what we’ll do.” He forces a smile.
“And Kennedy… Any news?”
“Not yet,” I huff.
“Someone must know where she is. She never told you exactly where the cult was or some shit?”
“Nothing, Pete. I wished I knew something, anything that could help us find her.” I throw back my drink; my body aching from fatigue and lack of sleep. I grimace at the burning sensation of the alcohol at the back of my throat.
“All I know is that we ended up in a ditch in the middle of fucking nowhere in Arizona!”
“Did someone say good ol’ Arizona?” The gravelly voice catches our attentions. We turn to look at the face that fits the voice. “Road trip gone wrong, son?” he questions, leaning forward on his elbows against the bar.
The sight of his vast tattoos shock me. He’s practically covered in them. Each one is beautifully detailed, as if telling its own story. I notice the name “Sara” tattooed across his knuckles on his right hand. This piques my curiosity as he’s not wearing a wedding band. I snap out of my daze, as I feel his gaze burning into me.
I shake my head before answering. “Long fucking story, man.” I sigh.
His face remains neutral as he presses me for an answer. “I got all day. Shoot!”
It felt less like a request and more like a demand. I pause for a second, not really knowing how the hell I’m going to explain this shit, or even where to start.
“My girlfriend was kidnapped by some sick fuckers in a cult. She managed to escape a short while back now and ended up here in Newport. They tracked her down and took her. Now she’s missing. I managed to follow them from where they snatched her. We drove for fucking hours and ended up being run off the road, probably by one of those sick fucks. We crashed in the middle of fucking nowhere.” The emotion in my voice is heavy as I try and explain to this stranger what the hell happened.
I turn my head in his direction, nervous for his reaction. I’m shocked to see him with his eyes tightly shut and a grimace across his face. He’s furiously rubbing his fingers across the tattooed knuckles. His hand is balled into a huge fist. His deep breathing turns into a low, guttural growl.
I look at the guys not really knowing how to judge his reaction. Pete signals Lizzy over. “Get us another round, Liz, and whatever Chuck wants,” Pete yells, anxiously trying to dispel the awkwardness of the conversation.
I hear a loud whistle from the corner of the bar. Chuck turns his head and signals to the guys he came with. He slowly nods, his reaction making me nervous. This guy is huge in size and intimidating in appearance. His long hair falls down and shields his eyes. He pushes back his hair, looking at me with a dark solitary gaze. His nose flares.
“You okay, man?” I ask with a stutter.
He straightens himself, slapping me heavily on the back, causing me to jolt forward.
“You lost me in thought for a moment, son. I wasn’t expecting that at all. Those sick god damn motherfuckers,” he growls loudly. “You have to find her. The longer you wait the less chance you’ll find her. You follow me?”
“I get ya, but I have no idea where she is.”
“My guess, based on what you just told me, would be in Arizona. Probably not too far off from where you were crashed into. I know that place inside out.”
“Oh yeah? I guess you guys do a lot of biking across that way?”
“I used to live there.” His voice teeters off to a whisper.
“Oh right.” My voice is awkward, not quite knowing where he’s going with this.
“I searched every mile of that goddamn state looking for my daughter.” His fists are balled and he hits the top of the bar, making the three of us jump.
“I never fucking found her. Left it in the hands of the fucking Feds who did jack shit to find her. By the time I started my search, it was too late. There was no sign of her anywhere. Time is of the essence, my man. Trust me, I speak from experience.”
I point to his knuckles. “Your daughter’s Sara?”
He nods slowly in response.
Kennedy
Today I finally received something to drink and eat. My lips are so dry they have started to crack. It hurts as I try and carefully sip from the glass tumbler. My hands shake from fatigue. I try to keep the cup steady, but I can’t. My cut is starting to heal, but is still incredibly sore where my tooth impaled my lip.
I wolf down the food, still hungry when I’ve finished.
This is the first meal I’ve had since arriving. I also haven’t seen anyone since my last encounter with Christopher, the food was left by someone who stood in the shadows.
However, I have spoken to Hope several times each day. She’s such a sweet, innocent girl. I don’t know what I can do to help her. There’s no winning in her situation. I know because I’ve been there. If you conform the outcome is horrendous. If you fight back it can be even worse. There’s no way I can tell a little girl to accept whatever sick shit he wants to do to her, but advising her to fight back will only make things worse.
I have no answers.
I have no advice.
I only have the memories.
I’m isolated in this room. There is barely any light. I have no way of washing. I have to go to the bathroom in a god damn bucket which causes the room to stink vile. I need to think of some way out of here, but it isn’t going to be easy.
I lay on the bed until I hear the familiar, gentle taps on the wall. I jump up with anticipation, leaning against the wall.
“Hi, Hope,” I whisper.
&
nbsp; “Hey,” she replies. Her simple comment is unusual. Normally she has a lot more to say for herself.
“Are you okay?” I ask, wondering what is causing her to be so quiet.
“I’m scared,” she whimpers.
“Me too, Hope, but we have to stay strong. Okay, sweetie?”
“I guess,” she replies unconvincingly.
“I’ve just had something to eat. Have you eaten?” I need to get her to talk.
“I couldn’t eat it all. Master shouted at me.”
I throw my hand over my mouth as a small gasp escapes. He had her calling him Master. I swallow down hard, trying to expel the bile that rises. He’s grooming her. I know this from experience.
“He’s told you to call him Master?” I question.
“Yes, he’s told me I have to. He says it’s because I’m special. He says all these nice things to me, but I know he just wants to hurt me. I can tell. I don’t want him to hurt me. I don’t want to be here. I miss my mommy,” she sobs.
I need to find out more about Hope. Where she came from. How she got here. Knowing that about Hope might help fill the blanks from my own childhood. I have no memory of my parents.
Christopher always told me I was an orphan and my parents died when I was just a baby. I have no idea who they were or where they came from. But Hope knows who her mom is.
“Do you remember where you lived before you came here? Or who you lived with?” I question with a soft tone to my voice.
“I lived with my mommy, but she was hardly ever at home. When she was, she always had a lot of people coming in and out. She used to shout at me a lot, but I knew she didn’t mean it. She would always say she was sorry.” I hear her gentle sobs through the wall.
“I know this is really hard for you, Hope, but remember what we said about Christopher? He can’t know about our little chats. You know he will be very angry with both of us if he finds out, so we need to try and stay quiet. Okay, sweetie?”
Keeping Hope (Broken Girl Series) Page 4