by L. L. Akers
He was enjoying it and thought she was too, as she lay there helpless and still. Bastard! she thought, as the tears soaked the blindfold. She was helpless. Trapped. Ruined. Or almost ruined...
Her stomach continued to roll, getting louder in its threats to erupt.
Think of something else, Olivia. Just go away while he does his business... she told herself. She floated away from her body and pretended it wasn’t happening. That she couldn’t feel his hot breath on her skin, or his wet tongue on her breast. It was working. She felt a bit calmer.
He called me dragonfly. So it was him. No doubt now. She felt her heart break. That bastard. She’d trusted him...shared all her secrets...told him things she’d never even told her sisters...she’d thought he was ‘the one,’ or at least her friend.
And yet again, fooled...by a monster behind a mask.
She shouldn’t have used ‘dragonfly’ for a user-name. He’d soiled it now. The mark she and her sisters and mother took was supposed to be a mark of freedom. She felt the tattoo on her shoulder warm, as though it was trying to remind her of that. How dare he make a mockery of it? How dare he let the name dragonfly pass through his lips?
He arched his hips against her, bringing her back. She gasped and began to shake. She couldn’t control the tremors. He was taking his time enjoying her body. She willed herself not to move. And then she willed herself to float away again. To think of something else.
The dragonfly tattoo. But thinking of that conjured up memories of her mom. She could clearly see her face in the darkness. She was giving Olivia a stern look. Reminding her of where she came from. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, willing her mom to disappear. She didn’t want to see her face when she was...like this. Not when it was about to happen. She didn’t want an audience—imagined or not.
Olivia sucked back a sob. “Go away, Mom.” She shook her head from side to side again, pushing her mom away. But she wouldn’t go.
Even in the pitch black, with her eyes squeezed shut underneath, she saw her mom put her hands on her hips. It had been a long time since she remembered what her voice sounded like, but she heard it loud and clear now. It was hard with tough love, the way it had always been.
“Stand up, girl. The cycle may have sucked all of us in, but we were all strong enough to break free. You girls are survivors. Now, suck it up, Buttercup. Don’t just lay here feeling sorry for yourself until it’s too late. Tell that fucker to piss off!”
A laugh escaped Olivia’s lips before she could catch it. Mom’s abrasive language hadn’t changed, even in the afterlife—or her imagination, whichever it was. And now there was Gabby and Emma’s faces. Three sets of blue eyes, identical to her own, staring at her. No pity in their eyes. Impatience maybe, but not pity. She couldn’t stand to see those faces staring at her. Not here. Not now.
She shook her head back and forth. Don’t look at me, she whispered.
She’d never be able to look her sisters in the eyes again. The shame would kill her. None of them could go through this again. They’d been through so much already. It wasn’t fair. Why her? Why her family? They’d been through it and came out the other side. Why did the cycle keep reaching for them again and again?
No more.
“NO!” She screamed, startled that she was finally able to find her voice. “Stop!”
Her jaw clenched. She bucked her hips, trying to move away from his hand. She cried out as his mouth jerked away from her breast, and his teeth scratched her, giving her a small taste of pain, bringing her completely back to the here and now.
The weight of him pushed the breath out of her as he sat up, giving her all of his weight while he pushed her hands back over her head painfully. Angrily. He jerked the button open on her jeans and ripped the zipper down. She forced her hips tight against the thin mattress, trying to hold the back of her jeans up—while he roughly tugged, trying to pull them down. They slid a few inches and she felt the rough fabric mattress against her backside.
She gasped. It’s too late, she thought. He’s gonna win.
“Stop it!! Quit! Let me go!” Olivia screamed.
“Let her go! I swear, I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Ember threatened, her voice carrying loudly across the hall. She followed it with a loud banging against the door. Boom, boom, boom.
She screamed again, “Olivia, don’t give in. Hurt him!”
He ignored them, awkwardly sliding her jeans down, while she continued to buck wildly from side to side. She’d found the energy somewhere. She wasn’t as weak as she’d thought.
“Stop moving or I’ll make you stop,” he screamed. Finally. A voice—a voice she didn’t recognize. Or maybe didn’t recognize it when it was screaming? A deep, scary voice. Rough, as though years of smoking had rubbed it raw.
Then his hand was on her bare skin, between her legs. He shoved his fingers into her and Olivia gasped in pain and stopped struggling again. It hurt. He was angry and rough. Her eyes popped open in pain under the blindfold, and thankfully all she saw was a wall of black. Her mom and sisters were gone. She swallowed painfully around the lump in her throat as he crudely moved his fingers inside of her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry in pain. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the worst that was surely seconds away...
“There. Just let it go,” he said. “I’ll be easier on you if you do.”
Let it go?
Her panties had gone down with her jeans. The cold air slapped against her bare skin. Her clothes were bunched up around her knees. She felt shame and fear in equal measures, but she wasn’t letting it go. She just had no choice. How else could she fight him? Her chest heaved in embarrassment and she shivered in anticipated terror. She was glad now that she was blindfolded. She didn’t want to see herself like this. She would rather be in the dark.
Her eyes rolled back and forth under the cloth, looking for the faces of her sisters and mom again. Still gone. There was nothing but inky blackness. Good, she thought.
But Mom’s words still bounced around her head. “Tell that fucker to piss off...”
Olivia froze. Maybe she should just let it go...
48
Olivia giggled uncontrollably. She felt like she was losing her mind. The past few hours had crept by so slowly that she felt like she’d dreamed it all. But no. Not a dream. It was all real.
After letting it go, her would-be rapist had been repulsed. Repulsed was an understatement. He’d jumped off the bed so fast that anyone would’ve thought he’d been snake-bit.
It had worked. Thanks, Mom.
She’d won that battle, but she’d lost the war.
He’d raged at her. His anger was epic. Olivia had blindly scrambled to the farthest corner and cowered down, still masked in darkness, while he’d tossed the bed and mattress through the room. He’d threatened to kill her. To kill Ember. To take her with Ember and sell them both a million times to a million men. But he hadn’t touched her again. He’d left within minutes, stomping out and slamming the door behind him. She’d cursed when she heard the lock turn, and finally removed her blindfold.
Soon after he’d left Olivia, he’d returned and taken Ember. She’d stayed crouched beneath the door, knowing not to look at him. But she’d heard it all. Ember had fought like a wildcat at first, only agreeing to stop fighting and go willingly if she could give Olivia some of her clothes first.
Olivia’s eyes filled with tears remembering her words. The girl, even in the middle of her own terror, had thought about Olivia’s comfort. And Ember had been proud of Olivia when she’d told her she’d pissed herself.
Urinated. On herself.
Hot, steamy urine was her savior. As humiliating as it was to allow herself to let it go, she’d picked a powerful weapon. He’d freaked out about a little pee-pee. Well, a lot of pee-pee... She and Ember had laughed about it together. Long and loud. Knowing he was upstairs, probably listening. They hadn’t even cared. They knew their fate was already written and laughin
g at him—or not—wouldn’t change it.
Apparently, he’d had enough of fighting. Between the two of them, they’d worn him down enough to allow Ember to shove clothes through the small opening on her way out.
Olivia hadn’t cared about the clothes then. She’d grabbed Ember’s hand and tightly held it. She’d squeezed it, hoping to convey how much she cared for her. And she promised they’d find her. That Ember wouldn’t be lost long. They’d whispered their good-byes through tears, and then he’d taken her away. Ember’s courage both amazed and disheartened Olivia. It was as though she just accepted her lot in life. Like it was a normal thing—not something you only saw on television. Even though Ember had been a paid prostitute, this wasn’t even in the same ball park. She was about to be a Sex Slave... Olivia couldn’t wrap her head around how calm Ember had been. So young to be so brave.
Now she was gone, and the quiet disarmed Olivia. What was next? Would he come back for her? Would anyone? Ember had said The Finder would come for her. Nothing made sense, except the sooner she got out of here, the sooner she could start looking for Ember.
She sighed. Too tired to even cower in fear anymore. If he came back, she’d reach deep and find it within herself to fight him. She wouldn’t give up—ever again.
At least she was alone for now. Finally. She had changed her clothes and sat on the floor waiting. For what, she didn’t know. Just the next thing. The coldness of the floor creeped up into her legs and bottom. The basement was much scarier without even the voice of her young friend.
A loud rattle rang through the emptiness. She stood up and backed away from the door, readying herself to attack with all she had. Fists, teeth, hands and feet. She felt feral.
But a hand poked through the bars with a steaming cup of chili bean soup. Olivia gladly grabbed it. Not only was she cold, but she was starving, too. A bottle of water bounced in behind it, hitting the floor and rolling away from her. She ran after the water and sat down cross-legged on the floor to eat, quickly swallowing it all down.
Within minutes, she felt sleepy again. So tired. Too tired to keep her eyes open. She crawled to the bed—too tired to even stand up—and pulled down the pillow. Everything else was soiled.
Rolling the pillow up, she curled into a ball behind the door on the cool concrete. The chili had warmed her enough that she didn’t feel the cold anymore. Her limbs felt heavy; her eyes felt heavier. In seconds, she fell asleep.
49
Grayson crept down the stairs to the basement, with Dusty taking lead.
They’d cleared the rest of the house. Nothing here. No furniture. No clothes. No clues. Just an old, empty house.
Dusty held up one finger. Grayson took a knee, holding his pistol in ready position. He’d heard something. Grayson heard it now—faint rattling of metal. Someone was down here.
He stood in a rush. Dusty threw up an arm, blocking him.
“Don’t go in half-cocked! You promised,” he said in barely a whisper. “Calm down.”
Grayson took a deep breath. I can do this, he told himself. He nodded at his brother.
They crept down the short hallway. At the end were two doors; one on each side.
The noise had stopped. They weren’t sure which room it had come from.
The door on the left had a message on it. In bright red marker, someone had scribbled the words: Fatefully Unfree.
That door was cracked open a few inches.
Dusty ducked under the small window with iron bars and crossed to the other side of the door, hugging the wall tightly with his gun pointed at the door.
“Cover me,” he mouthed to Grayson.
He entered the room in a quiet rush, and Grayson followed.
Empty. Other than a mattress and bucket.
They returned to the hallway in a quiet leap to either side of the door again, their backs against the wall.
Grayson’s heart felt like a hammer beating against his chest. She had to be here. She just had to. He didn’t want to think of any other option.
He’d been put on the trail of these traffickers three months ago, mostly accepting the transfer onto Dusty’s team to bring Graysie close to some family.
But he also wanted these assholes. Two years now he’d seen the damage they wrought. Ruthless men. No one was safe; women, men, and even young girls and boys were sold to anyone and everyone that could meet the price. Fucking sickos.
The fact that Olivia had fallen in with the same group he was tracking was unreal. Talk about fate. He didn’t believe in coincidences or miracles, but this was too big to overlook. Maybe someone—or something—had nudged him here just in time for a reason.
First a hurricane. Now this? To ignore whatever was pushing them together again might just be dangerous to them both. He wouldn’t question it anymore. Didn’t even want to.
If she’s in that room...If I can hold her again...I’ll never let her go.
Dusty pointed to the door.
In the same red marker was a rough, child-like drawing of what could only be a dragonfly scrawled upon it. Under that was a key, hanging on a hook.
Grayson’s pulse ratcheted.
Dusty moved silently to the door and carefully removed the key. He handed it to Grayson with a knowing nod.
Grayson swallowed hard. This was it. Behind that door was either the rest of his life...or more heartache. He silently begged God for the former.
He unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open.
Empty.
His heart fell.
Shattered.
He dropped his gun. It clattered to the floor.
His hands covered his face. He shook his head from side to side. It’s over. She’s gone. I’m too late...
Dusty yelled, “Grayson! Look behind the—”
A heavy metal bucket crashed down on Grayson’s head. His world exploded in a colorful display of lights. He fell to the floor, landing on his back and looked up as Dusty jumped over him and grabbed Olivia in a bear hug.
Crazy damn woman, he thought. What the hell are you hitting me for?
50
“Grayson, Are you okay?”
“He’ll be fine. I’ve hit him harder than that a million times,” Dusty said from over his shoulder. He stepped up on the bucket and examined the surveillance camera hanging from the ceiling.
Other officers walked in and out of the rooms, dusting for prints and collecting evidence.
Grayson tried to open his eyes, managing only a squint. His vision cleared enough to see Olivia kneeling over him, holding a cold, wet cloth to his head.
Not a scratch on her that he could see.
He slowly smiled.
“Dusty, I think he’s really hurt. Look at him.”
Grayson gasped, sucking in all his breath and closed his eyes again.
“Dusty! He stopped breathing!” She leaned down to put her ear next to his mouth. He whipped an arm up and caught her, holding her there as he raised up, taking her lips with his.
She resisted, and then melted into this kiss.
Dusty cleared his throat loudly. “Get a room, Detective Rowan. The rest of your team is here. They already saw you get clobbered by a girl. So, you might want to...um...look alive...soldier.”
Grayson pulled back, but kept his hands in Olivia’s hair. He turned just enough to see his little brother smirking at him. Pain rolled through his head. “Shut the hell up, bro. Consider me off duty as of now.”
He ignored Dusty’s chuckles and pulled Olivia close to his face again. “Woman, don’t leave my sight. Ever. Actually, until my blurry vision clears, I’m going to hold you right here, where you can’t get into any more damn trouble.”
Olivia leaned her head against his chest, and Grayson tightly held her.
“I’m glad you’re okay. Sorry I hit you so hard.”
“S’kay.”
“Dusty told me what happened. I was an idiot.”
“Yup.”
“I want to go home.”
�
��Nope.”
“Nope? I can’t go home?”
“Nope. You’re going home with me. Finders keepers...remember?”
Epilogue
Olivia was surprised to find Graysie sitting at the table as she sleepily shuffled into the kitchen late at night...almost morning. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m actually asleep right now,” Graysie snapped with sarcasm, keeping her head down and her eyes on the table. Without her normal make-up and her hair fixed, she looked like a child—a sad and lost child. She reminded her of Ember. So lost...
Graysie’s red hair and green eyes floating past them every day were a constant reminder for Olivia and Grayson—and his team—to keep trying...keep searching. Neither of them could or would forget Ember. They’d find her. Grayson and Dusty had promised.
Olivia pushed Ember out of her mind for now and ignored Graysie’s snark. She gave her a small smile, although Graysie didn’t see it. “Can I make you some hot cocoa or something?”
“Nope.”
Olivia sighed. She still needed to find a way to make friends with Graysie. Anything less would be miserable for all of them. She wasn't giving up.
She kept her back to Graysie as she poured milk into a small saucepan and got out the cocoa. She took down two mugs—just in case—and turned the stove on low. Maybe she could entice Graysie to share a cup with her anyway.
She finished the cocoa, pouring it into the two mugs, and carried them to the table.
Graysie ignored her.
She slid into the seat next to Graysie, sliding a mug toward her while the girl silently stared down at the table to the puzzle that had been there since the first time Olivia had seen the house.
It was a stunning picture. A wind-blown flower field of Black-eyed Susan’s, bending in the breeze, blanketed by a beautiful blue sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds and filled with rays of sunlight beaming down on the field of flowers.