Trapped

by Sally Mason

  Contents

  Title

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  EPILOGUE

  What's Next

  Survive Chapter 1

  A Special Thanks

  Trapped

  By

  Sally Mason

  Copyright ©2016 by Sally Mason

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to any person, alive or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-0-9956773-0-2

  Rapid River Publishing

  Cover by render/compose

  Edited by Ayers Edits

  The text type was set in Adobe Garamond Pro

  For more information or to sign up to my newsletter, visit

  www.sallymasonauthor.com

  Trigger Warning: This story includes relevant social topics such as anxiety, self-harm, and depression, as well as references to rape/abuse. Do not read if you find any of these topics disturbing. They are not meant to upset anyone but to raise awareness.

  DEDICATION

  To my daughter who always told me to hold on to my dreams

  PROLOGUE

  The blanket around my shoulders doesn’t provide any comfort. My teeth are chattering like there is no tomorrow and my insides are frozen to ice. I stare at the wall, my brain barely registering the sounds of the occasional nurse tiptoeing around me. Every time I move, pain throbs through my body, but I’m so used to it by now that I hardly notice. Something hot drips on my skin and I realize that I have started to cry again.

  A hand claps down on my shoulder and I jump, almost falling off the chair.

  “I’m sorry, Kelsey, I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Detective Larouge.”

  I narrow my eyes to focus on his face. He is an older guy, maybe the age of my father. A badge is stuck to his belt, which signals “friendly,” but my mind still cries caution—he is a man who can hurt me. There is movement behind him and I strain to make out a young woman with a wide, fake smile.

  “I know this is difficult for you, but can we ask you a few questions?”

  I want to scream at them to leave me alone. “I already told the other officer what happened.”

  He gives me a crooked smile. “I know, but we have to go over a few points again.”

  I glance around for my mom and Roy, hoping for them to rescue me, but they’re still not here. I shake my head to get the fuzziness out of my brain before I turn back to Larouge and the woman.

  He lowers himself on the empty cot next to me while she pulls up a chair at a much safer distance. I try to control my trembling hands when I tuck the blanket tighter around me. Something is pushing on my chest and I’m having trouble breathing.

  “Kelsey, you told the officer at the police department intake desk that two men abducted you?”

  I nod.

  “And do you know who they were?”

  I close my eyes and Jed’s face flashes in front of me. The memory of his cynical laugh before he bends down to forcefully kiss me turns my stomach into tight knots.

  “One of them was Jed Edwards.” My voice is hoarse and no longer recognizable. I sound like a broken robot.

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  Stupid question—Jed tormented me every single day for three months and his face is forever burned into my mind.

  “Yes, I’m sure. He and my brother were in the same year together, and kids in school used to pick on him.”

  “What about the other one?”

  A sorrowful sob escapes my throat when I remember the night he took my innocence.

  “I don’t know.” Tears stream down my face. “I was always blindfolded when I was with him and he never spoke. I have no idea what he looks like.”

  The two officers exchange a glance.

  “Do you have any idea how old he is?”

  I bite down on my lip when my mind screams to stop the questions. The dull pain in my head pounds so hard that I’m about to lose it. All I want is to go home—hide under my blankets—and not be stuck in this hospital with a bunch of strangers.

  “He was very strong with firm muscles,” I say with a slight quiver in my voice. “I don’t think he was that old.”

  “Anything else you remember that could help us to identify him?”

  With a sigh, I close my eyes. I just want to forget, but they force me to dip back deep into those horrible memories I try to block out.

  “Kelsey? Do you remember anything else? We need you to tell us everything.”

  I open my eyes and realize that I have been silent for a while. Larouge wants to hear everything. The words are pulled out of me by an invisible force that knows I have to cooperate if I ever want him to leave me alone. “One night, he untied one of my hands and made me jerk him off.” A shudder runs through me and I choke on the words when bile rises in my throat. “He had a scar, I mean down there, on top of his inner thigh. It wasn’t big, like a small slash.”

  “That’s very helpful, Kelsey. You’re doing great.”

  I give him a weak smile.

  “Now, let’s get back to Jed—”

  A scream from the doorway interrupts him. “Kelsey, oh my god.”

  I turn toward the voice, the whole room blurred from my tears. “Mom!”

  I missed her so much and want to run to her, but my legs are no longer under my control. My arms fly up when she squats down next to me and pulls my head against her shoulder. I weep, feeling halfway safe for the first time since this whole ordeal started.

  “Shh, honey, everything will be all right now. You’re alive, that’s all that matters.” The words are muffled by her tears.

  “I’m so sorry, Mom, that I didn’t listen to you.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, honey. No one blames you.” A cry escapes her mouth. “I thought I lost you forever, Kelsey. I love you so much.”

  “I want to go home.”

  She strokes my hair. “Can I take my daughter home?”

  I raise my head and turn to Larouge with pleading eyes.

  He can’t even hold my gaze. “I’m sorry, Joan, but there’re still a lot of questions we need to ask her.”

  Roy huffs. “Can’t this wait till tomorrow? As you can see, Kelsey is exhausted and in shock. I really want to take her home.”

  I manage a small smile. Just as usual, Roy is my hero. Since he and my mom married about ten years ago, he has always been there for me. With his son, Luke, we’re just like a smaller version of the Brady Bunch.

&nbs
p; Larouge’s face twists, but then his head begins to bob back and forth. “I understand. We can postpone the questioning, but I’m afraid that Kelsey has to remain at the hospital until the doctors complete her physical examination. As you know, we have to preserve the evidence.”

  Roy takes in a sharp breath. “I presume . . .”

  As his words trail off, my mother’s hand clutches over her mouth. All eyes are on me with pity. I must have the word “RAPE” written all over my forehead.

  Larouge clears his throat. “We’ll likely make an arrest in the next few hours and need Kelsey to make a positive ID in a lineup.”

  Roy nods, his eyes determined. “That won’t be a problem. I will make a few calls to ensure the bastard won’t make bail. Who is it?”

  “You know I can’t tell you in an ongoing investigation.” Larouge squirms when my stepdad rolls his eyes.

  “Come on, Nick, we’re talking about my family here. Don’t give me this bullshit. We have been friends long enough that you know you can trust me.”

  Larouge glances at the lady cop, who takes the hint and excuses herself with some mumbled words under her breath. They wait until the door closes behind her before Larouge speaks again.

  “It’s Jed Edwards.”

  A frown wrinkles Roy’s forehead. “Isn’t that the kid who lives out there in the woods by the creek?”

  “Yes,” my mom jumps in. “His parents died a few years ago and he hasn’t been around much since.”

  Roy huffs again. “I always knew that boy was trouble.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kelsey, I’ll make sure he’s locked up for a really long time. He’ll never be able to hurt you again.”

  I put all my hope and trust in him in this moment, certain that my tormentors and rapists will go to prison and rot there for eternity. In the end, justice will always prevail—because that’s how it is supposed to be.

  CHAPTER 1

  The wailing screech of the electric guitar almost rips my eardrums when Slash performs one of his guitar solos. I used to despise heavy metal until I discovered that the shrill sounds numb my mind to a point of total oblivion. The plugs of the Beats in my ears are turned up to full power while I lie rigidly on the bed, waiting for the next guitar solo to shoot throbs through my brain. This is better than getting freeze shocks from eating large mouthfuls of ice cream.

  When Slash is just about ready to strike again, a hand tears me out of my heavy-metal world, making my heart jump into the air. My eyes fly open as my heart rate doubles, just to be mocked by the sight of my mother. False alarm—no need to get upset.

  I’m still in a rotten mood. “What the hell are you doing? You scared the living daylights out of me.” The hissing sounds rolling off my lips are far from the image of the respectful daughter I ought to be.

  Her eyebrows knot together in response. “I screamed at you at the top of my lungs, but you didn’t even flinch. That music is too loud. It’s bad for your hearing. One of these days, you’re going to end up deaf.”

  I’d heard it all before. “Yeah, Mom, I know, but you still shouldn’t invade my privacy like that. What do you want?”

  She looks like a lost puppy. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s time for your walk.”

  I eye the gaps in the curtain, thinking of an excuse not to go. Why couldn’t it just be raining? “I don’t feel like leaving the house. It’s way too chilly.”

  She doesn’t go for it. “It’s beautiful outside. You could even wear shorts.”

  I glare at her. Why would I want to do that? Shorts mean exposed skin, which in turn could give the impression in someone’s perverted mind that I might be interested in anything other than being left alone.

  My mom continues her lecture. “Dr. Stromberg said that those daily walks are important.”

  Everything Dr. Stromberg has ever prescribed is of utmost importance for my recovery, but except for those pills that help with my depression and give me a buzz, I generally disagree with her opinions.

  “Maybe tomorrow, Mom. I have a headache.”

  “No.” She pulls away my cover, exposing my pj’s with the white and red skulls on an all-black background—my absolute favorite. Everything symbolizing death and destruction is totally noteworthy. “You will get up, young lady, and take a shower for a change. Then you’ll get out of this house and enjoy the sunshine.”

  I moan, trying to recover the blanket, but she is relentless.

  “And when you come home, you will join us at the table for dinner and not just disappear in your room again.” She underlines her words by jutting her chin at me. It’s her “don’t challenge me” look.

  My moans grow louder. “Mom, please—”

  She cuts me off with a pointed finger. “Don’t please me, Kelsey. You’re making yourself sick and it has to stop.”

  I pull my pillow over my head to block her out and hide the oncoming tears. “I am sick, Mom. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a total nutcase.”

  She sits down on the bed next to me and strokes my back the way she used to when I was little. “I know you’re still hurting, but it has been three years. It’s time for you to at least make an effort to get your life back into some type of order.”

  I mumble something inaudible into my sheets.

  “What was that, honey?”

  I fiercely fight the tears. “Nothing, Mom. I’ll get up in a minute.”

  It’s an empty promise and she knows me too well. We have been here plenty of times before. “I’m not leaving until you are in the shower.”

  With a growl, I jump out of the bed and stalk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Why in God’s name can’t people just leave me alone?

  Ten minutes later, I have showered and even washed my hair before dressing in saggy black jeans and an oversized black sweater that reminds me of a huge tent. Some grungy old sneakers complete the ensemble. My damp hair is pulled up in a messy bun with a plain rubber band after I don’t even bother combing it in the first place. I used to wear makeup but not anymore.

  I grab the offered apple from my mother’s hand before heading outside, no longer in the mood to argue. I toss it in the next garbage bin I pass on the street. My steps are heavy as I stroll along without any particular destination.

  My mom was right; it is the perfect May afternoon. The warm sun dances on my skin whenever I step out of the shadows, an occasional breeze playing with a few loose strands of my hair. When I speed up, a thin layer of sweat soon covers my back. I should have worn a short-sleeve shirt, but the risk of someone noticing my little acts of indiscretion is just too high. Rumors spread through Stonehenge like wildfire and there is no need to fuel my reputation as the town’s wacko even more.

  Somehow I end up downtown by the park and find myself on a bench away from the main sidewalk but still within visual range of the high school. It’s almost four, and when the bell rings, students begin to file out. I gasp when I notice Justin by the gate, leaning against a light post.

  A sharp pain stabs at my heart as he wraps his arms around Cynthia Tranton, of all people, who looks like a total slut in her little cheerleader outfit. They kiss passionately and I can practically see their tongues colliding. My soul is weeping—he used to kiss me like that before I became damaged and used. The pain worsens when the little green devil claws into my heart with cruel laughter.

  No one wants the raped girl, he spits in my face.

  I lower my gaze, wondering how long they’ve been together. Cynthia is a year younger than me and will graduate in a few weeks. After that, she’s probably off to some West Coast college on her parents’ dime. I’ve never even stepped foot outside of Maine, one of the least crime-ridden states of the country, yet I’m the one abducted and raped. Figures!

  Someone slumps next to me on the bench, and I am just about to karate chop him into his temple, like I learned in my self-defense class, when I realize it’s Luke. I nudge his shoulder harder than intended.

  “You jerk, scari
ng me like that.”

  He rubs his arm with a grimace. “I didn’t know you lost your eyesight overnight. Didn’t you see it was me?”

  “I was deep in thought.”

  “I suppose that’s a good thing. Usually, all you do is sulk, so I guess animating those brain cells is an improvement.”

  My eyes linger on Justin and Cynthia, who have been joined by a few of their friends. Justin is laughing and Cynthia hops excitedly from one foot to the other. She looks absolutely silly. It’s Friday night and they probably plan to have a party out by the lake.

  Luke rests his arm on my shoulders. “Are you okay? Maybe we should leave.”

  I can’t tear my eyes off them. “How long have they been together?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it has been a while. The jerk moved on pretty quickly.” He squeezes my shoulder. “It’s his loss, you know. He’ll never find someone as special as you.”

  Tears blur my vision. “You’re the only one who thinks that and only because you’re my brother.”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Kels. You’ll see—one day, you’ll find someone who loves you just the way you are.”

  I have my serious doubts but don’t debate with him. He always wins anyhow. His arguments are usually solid and sharp—he’s just like Roy in that respect. I guess like father, like son.

  He reaches into the side pocket of his backpack and produces a tall paper cup. “Here, I brought you something.”

  I grin from ear to ear, touched by his gesture. “Starbucks. Is it the caramel latte with cream I like?”

  “Yep.”

  I reach for the cup, already tasting the sweet whipped cream on my lips, but he pulls it out of my reach. “Only if you kept your promise. Let’s see your arms.”

  I grit my teeth, staring at the coffee. “Come on, Luke. Give it to me.” It seems so close, yet still so far.

  “Show me your arms.”

  His piercing eyes stir my bad conscience, and with a groan, I roll up my sleeves, knowing I have lost. The coffee cup lands in a nearby bin, the brown liquid spilling through the wire mesh and soaking into the ground. Only a little bit of cream and sprinkles are left behind. He stares ahead with pursed lips, the disappointment oozing from his body.