I screamed, pushing myself up to leap at him but was torn back down by my ties. “You had this planned? All along? How could you? You’re crazy!” I screamed, my voice feral.
Bailey’s screaming stopped, and I heard his footsteps again. “You’re probably right. I am crazy, but maybe I’m just crazy enough to make this work. Now, let us just get a few things straight. I don’t want to hurt you girls, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. If your parents cooperate you’ll be set free, and you’ll never hear from me again. However, if they don’t, this room will be the last place you’ll ever see. I do hope you’ve said goodbye to dear old Derek.” He cackled loudly.
Hate soared through my body, my blood boiling. After a few moments, I heard his footsteps and saw the light of the door that told me he’d left the room. I waited until I could no longer hear him walking.
“You okay?” I asked.
There was a moment of quiet before she answered. “I’m okay. Are you?”
I tried to move my fingers; three of them wouldn’t budge. My whole hand throbbed. “I’m okay,” I confirmed, because even if I wasn’t, what could be done?
We were silent for a few moments before I heard her voice again. “Jaicey?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you believe him? About letting us go?”
I didn’t want to answer. Deep down I knew the truth. “Of course,” I lied to her. “Of course he’ll let us go. He’s not a killer, Bailey. He’s just a mean old man who wants our parents’ money. Once he has that, he’ll disappear, just like he said.”
She didn’t answer.
“You have to believe that, okay, Bailey?”
She let out a heartbreaking sob. “I just want to go home.”
I wanted more than anything to touch my best friend’s hands, to tell her that everything would be okay, but with my hands tied and my hope deflated, I instead sat in silence, listening to our captor moving around up above.
***
Three days went by before we saw Mr. Brown again. Three days of eating nothing and seeing no one. We sat in near-silence, each in and out of sleep. When the door crept open, the light brought physical pain to my eyes.
“Get up!” he yelled. “God, you guys reek. You’ve really stunk the place up.”
I sat up as still as I could, my arms still restrained to the ground below me. He flicked on a light. I cowered, attempting to hide my eyes. The room he had us in was small, about the size of a classroom, and bare. The walls were concrete, and I knew Bailey must’ve been right. We were in a basement of some sort. There was a chair in the middle of the room and ties on the walls like the ones binding Bailey and I down. Had he had other kids down here? Other girls like us? I looked to Bailey then, ready to cry when I saw her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale. Her hand was black and blue, probably from where he’d smashed it. Her beautiful red hair was frazzled and muddy, and her clothes were soiled. We stared at each other for just a moment. She looked exhausted. Dying. The word hit me hard. She looked like she was dying. Were we dying?
Staring at Mr. Brown in the light made this all the more real. No longer could I pretend this was a nightmare and wait to wake up. This was happening. This was real. He held a phone in his hand, his fingers over the speaker.
“You have a phone call,” he said cheekily.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mommy dearest.” My heart leapt with hope. It was Mom. She’d know what to do.
He pulled a knife from his back pocket, wiggling it in the air. “One word about me or about where we are, and Bailey dies. Do you hear me?”
Bailey’s eyes filled with tears as she began sobbing.
“I hear you.” I nodded, never looking away from the knife.
I took the phone from his hand, my fingers numb, and placed it to my ear. I watched as he walked to Bailey, placing the knife on her neck and waiting for me to make a move.
“Mom?” I asked into the phone, my voice feeling funny in my throat.
Sobs. Sobs rang out on the other line. I heard her trying to catch her breath. “Jaicey, oh Jaicey, thank God. Jaicey, are you hurt? Are you okay? It’s so good to hear your voice. Did he hurt you? Oh God.”
My voice kept getting caught in my dry throat. “I’m okay, Mom. I’m okay. We’re okay. We just want to come home.”
“I know, sweetheart,” she said through her sobs. “I know. I’m so sorry this happened. We’re getting the money together today. Oh, Jaice, it’s so good to hear your voice. You’ve been so brave, sweetheart. So, so brave. We love you so much, you know that?”
“I love you.”
“Please stay safe, Jaicey. Please hold on. We’re coming for you, okay? We’re coming.”
“Okay, Momma.”
“Do you know who he is, Jaicey? Can you tell me who he is?” My eyes darted to Bailey, the knife making a white line on her neck from pressure.
“No, Mom. I don’t know.”
She let out another sob. “I love you, Jaice. Please just hang in there.”
Before I could say anything else, he leapt up and grabbed the phone from my hand, smashing it under his foot. I flinched, expecting him to do more. Instead he picked up the pieces and strode from the room, turning the light out once more.
***
After two more days, I awoke to Bailey coughing. I knew neither of us would make it much longer. Death didn’t seem so scary anymore, honestly. It was almost comforting to know it would be over soon. It had become harder for me to stay awake for very long periods of time, and my mouth was always so dry. The smell of the room after the first day had made me sick, but now I didn’t even notice it anymore.
That day I heard her voice for the first time in so long. “Jaicey?” It sounded hard for her to talk, her voice gravelly like she’d been sleeping for a long time.
It took me forever to answer, trying to summon my voice from deep inside my throat. “Yeah?” I croaked.
“I don’t feel much anymore. I think…I think I’m dying. Is this how it feels?”
“No, we’re not dying. Our parents are…coming for us. We’re going to be okay, Bailey.”
“No,” she said, and then there was more coughing.
“Yes, yes we are. You have to believe that. You have to believe that or he wins. He can’t keep us much longer. Do you know how many people must be looking for us? My mom said they were sending the money. That means he’ll have to let us go.” I had to fight to keep pushing my voice out and even then it sounded weird.
“You think so? Really?”
She wasn’t crying anymore; I don’t think either of us really saw a point. Besides that, I didn’t think my body had any extra water to release.
“I know so, and so does he,” I said, though I wished I believed it.
She coughed again, with what little strength she had left. “I don’t blame you, you know.”
“You don’t?”
“Of course I don’t. I didn’t have to come with you. No one forced me. You’re my best friend, Jaicey. I wouldn’t want you to be here alone. Wherever here is.”
I smiled, there was so much more that I wanted to say to her, so much I wanted to tell her before we were both gone, but I couldn’t fight off sleep any longer.
***
The next time I was woken up, someone was touching me. “Bailey?” I asked. Had she gotten free?
The person didn’t answer.
“What are you doing?” I asked, knowing immediately that those hands weren’t Bailey’s.
Still no answer. The hands were untying me. I stayed quiet, just knowing we were getting out. He untied my feet first. I felt his crisp mustache on my ear, smelled his coffee breath, “It’s time,” he whispered.
“I’m getting out? Going home?” I asked, feeling him untie my arms.
He grabbed hold of my arms forcefully, pulling me to sit up. “Not exactly.” He let go of me, and I heard him walk away. I attempted to stand, though my legs were weak from lack of use. Before I could get up completely
, a set of hands were on me and I was jerked back onto the floor. My head smacked the concrete and I landed in a puddle of some wet and warm liquid. Vomit rose in my throat.
“What’s going on? Please! You said you’d let us go.”
No voice answered, but I felt steady, silent breathing on the back of my neck. Strong arms wrapped around my neck and shoulders. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew it wasn’t over. I felt his hands unbuttoning my pants and sliding them down and I knew what would come next. I closed my eyes, unable to move, and tried to focus on my breathing. His hands were rough on the smooth skin of my legs, and I felt the vomit rising higher and higher in my throat.
I heard a moan from Bailey. For a moment, I’d forgotten she was in the room. “Bailey!” I shouted out. A fist slammed into my jaw and I tasted blood immediately.
“Go shut her up,” I heard Mr. Brown whisper, still down near my legs. The hands around my shoulders released and for a second I felt free. Then Mr. Brown’s weight was on top of me. His knees were digging into my stomach. I vomited and then choked on the bile as it filled my mouth, unable to turn over. He turned me over, pounding on my back with a force I was sure would leave bruises. Not that anyone would ever find my body, I reminded myself. When he flipped me back over, I lay still on the concrete, now covered in vomit and whatever else I was laying in. He moved his way back down to my feet and I knew if I was going to get out, now was the time. I kicked both of my feet at the same time with every ounce of power I had and heard Mr. Brown grunt. I had made contact. With any luck I knew that would buy me a few seconds. I jumped up, but was immediately hit in the head with something else. I fell back down to my knees, tasting blood in my mouth once more. My nose began to bleed. This is it, I thought. This is when I die. I knew I had only a few more moments of consciousness left. I was exhausted, and my body screamed at me in pain. I had no idea where Bailey was, if she was even alive at all, and for all I knew I was never getting out of this basement alive.
“You said you’d let us go,” I cried. “You promised.” My last piece of hope.
“You promised,” he mocked in a girly voice, laughing. “Did you honestly think that once I had my money I’d let you go to run off and tell the police what I’ve done? My darling, I gave you more credit than that. You’ve seen my face. You know my name. Do you give me absolutely no credit at all?” he asked. I heard him walking circles around me. Or maybe I was spinning in circles. I couldn’t be sure anymore. “Then again, you never were the brightest girl.”
“I won’t tell. I’ll say that you kept me locked up in the dark. I’ll say that I never knew. I will, honestly I will!” I pleaded.
“Now, if honesty truly existed would we even be in this situation? Just hold still, sweet girl, and it will all be over.”
I felt the pair of hands grasp my shoulders once more, though I wasn’t sure I could move anyway, and then I felt it. The cold metal of his knife ran down my neck. It hurt, oh God, it hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before. I felt my warm blood pouring out of the wounds, I could taste it bubbling in my mouth, out my nose. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I prayed that it would end. I prayed for death. He laid me down and sat on my legs so that I couldn’t fight. Don’t be silly, I thought. It was useless to hold me down. He didn’t know I couldn’t fight back. I wouldn’t fight back. I was done.
Then I heard Bailey once more. “Jaicey.” She sounded fuzzy, or maybe that was just my blood-soaked thoughts, my ears pooled with blood. Her voice brought me back some focus. I knew I had to act fast if I wanted to save us. If I couldn’t fight to save myself, I had to try and save her. I felt the icy blade dig into my neck once more, tracing designs into my skin, which was on fire and raw with pain.
“Get off,” I tried to scream, but I couldn’t breathe through all the blood. As the blade dug into my neck once more, deeper than all of the other times, I was filled with adrenaline. I acted on impulse, jerking my arm free from the arms around my shoulders. I grabbed the knife from his hand, ignoring the blade as it dug into my broken, numb fingers. I stabbed the person holding me down from behind, digging it into his shoulders and dragging it toward me. He let go.
“Shit,” he cursed loudly. “My shoulder! The bitch stabbed me!”
“Shut up, you idiot!” came Mr. Brown’s voice.
I kicked and kicked until Mr. Brown fell off of my stomach and onto his side, spitting and cussing as well. I heard the knife clang to the ground, my fingers releasing it without warning. I felt around through the warm liquid but to no avail. It was too dark and if I wanted to make it out alive I couldn’t stay in this room any longer, knife or no knife. I was free and I had to stay that way. I stayed down on my knees, keeping one hand pressed to my neck in an attempt to slow the bleeding. The pain was sharp, causing my eyes to water and my heartbeat to throb in my ears. I needed to get out of that room. I wanted to stay alive. Finally I felt the door, freedom so close I could taste it. I tucked my hand under the bottom of the door and counted to three. In one swift motion, the door swung open. I pushed myself up, my legs wobbly and weak underneath me, and then I bolted. I ran up a set of old wooden stairs, each one straining as I hit it. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, my lungs burning for oxygen. Realizing I had no idea where I was and no idea how I was going to get out, I stopped. My whole body shook with pain and exhaustion. I gazed around the room, my vision blurring. The room I was standing in was old and dusty, basically empty. It was obvious that no one could have been living there. I ran through the room, beating on windows, searching for a door, but with no luck. I spied a hallway out of the corner of my eye. Before I could make my way to it, I felt the knife dig into my leg, twisting its way up my thigh. I turned around, screaming as it tore through my muscles and nerves. I reached for the knife, feeling it tear me apart, and I just knew that I was dead. I fell to the ground, accepting defeat. It was over and I was going to die. He had won. He flipped me over, his glasses sliding off of his nose, his sweat dripping onto my face. He stared into my eyes with nothing but hatred.
“I was going to make this easy for you, but not now. No, you’ve asked for it now.” He grabbed hold of my arms, slamming them down to my sides and holding the knife above me. With that simple move, I was given hope. Under my fingers I felt something long and hard, a cool metal. I wrapped my fingers around it as the knife grew closer to my face. He leaned down, inches from my face, and I pulled the metal piece out from behind, slamming it into his head. He kneeled over, covering his head in pain and fell off of me once again. I looked at the thing in my hand. It must have been an old chair leg of some sort. I looked at him. He saw it coming. The last time I saw Mr. Brown, his face showed only fear. Deep, immense fear. He screamed and I swung, showing no mercy. I hit him again and again until he fell silent. I grabbed the knife from where it had fallen in the floor, and I ran. I was almost to the door when I heard her soft scream. Bailey. I had almost forgotten her in my fear-filled state. I had to go back.
Without thinking twice, I turned around. “Bailey?” I called her name. “Where are you?” She didn’t answer. I heard a door swing open. Someone was coming for me. I stepped over Mr. Brown’s bleeding body without looking at him. I felt as though I were going to be sick again. I found the staircase quickly and forced my legs to go on as I ran back to the room where we had been kept. Everything in me hurt with each move, but I forced myself to go on. I swung open the door, feeling for a light switch, and flipped it on. The sight waiting for me was brutal. I bent over, emptying the feeble contents of my stomach onto the floor. Bailey had never left the room we were in. She had been there with me, tied up, the whole time. He had stabbed her over and over, her blood pouring out into the floor. Her pants hung loose around her ankles and her hair had been cut off.
I ran to her, dropping my weapons. “Oh, sweetie. Look what they did to you.” I untied her carefully, noticing that her arm had been broken in several places. Her cheek had been slashed open, and her eyes were swollen shut. I pulled her p
ants up, feeling sick at how loosely they fit on her now. She couldn’t walk, I knew. She couldn’t even stand. Her legs shook under her weight and she immediately fell over, nearly smacking her head on the concrete. I wanted to cry at the hopelessness of it all.
No. I told myself we were going to make it. I picked her up, using every bit of my strength to carry her out of that room. It must have taken me hours to get her up those stairs, but somehow we made it. Finally out of the house, I realized it was the middle of the night. I was thankful that there was no sun in the sky to burn my eyes. As I dragged her across the sand, I glanced back only once to look at the abandoned lighthouse where we were held captive.
We’ll never go back there, I promised her mentally. My knees began buckling and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could carry her, leaving our bloody trail as I went. I cried with relief as we reached Mr. Brown’s car and I saw that he had left the keys still in it. I noticed another set of tire tracks in the muddy sand. Someone had left. They could be coming back. I pulled open the passenger door and lifted Bailey up into the seat, then stumbled my way to the opposite side. The world around me grew fuzzy and I wasn’t sure I could even climb into the car, but I did. “We’re going to make it, B. We’re going to. You just hold on, okay?”
I wasn’t sure if she could hear me or if she was even still alive, and I was too afraid to check. I turned the keys in the ignition and began to drive. My hands were shaking as we pulled out, I had lost so much blood I could barely keep my eyes open. The adrenaline rush that had kept me going was wearing off by the minute. I just wanted to give up, to give in to sleep. I couldn’t, I told myself, I wasn’t going to let Bailey die. Not like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. The clock on the dash shone 4:04 in the morning. Somehow, I knew I would never forget that time. I had always been an excellent driver, but sleep was causing me to swerve all over the road. I pulled out onto the highway, going around a big curve. I pressed my foot to the gas, I had to hurry. Bailey’s blood soaked the seat she was in. Her bloody hand reached for mine. I heaved a sigh of relief, realizing she was alive. I locked my pinky with hers. We were going to be okay.
The Truth About My Scratches (The Carolina Killer Files #3) Page 11