Darkest Before Dawn Read Online Free Page A

that do aren’t paying attention to a parked car. These men must have planned this out. Earl said he had plans for me—this isn’t some spur of the moment decision based on panic. This was premeditated, which means they’ve thought this through.
    Bubba slings the screen door back and we walk into the old house. Inside reeks of cigarettes and mold. Water stains cover the yellowed walls; cobwebs are in every corner. As soon as we set foot into the kitchen, two mangy looking dogs scamper up. Both sniff the leg of my jeans. One wags its tail, the other growls, baring its teeth.
    Earl kicks at the growling one. “Aw, shut yer trap, Bear.” The dog scampers away, disappearing into a dark doorway.
    I’m led to a stairwell that most likely descends into a cellar or basement. Bubba pulls a frayed cord and a yellow haze lights the stairwell. I want to scream. I want to cry. My heart bangs unevenly against my ribs, my chest constricting. The farther down the stairs we go, the stronger the smell of wet mildew grows. Once at the bottom, I look up. I can see the floorboards and pipes. I’m shoved through the cramped room and toward a wooden door. Earl opens it and pushes me inside. My foot hits a brick threshold which trips me. I fall to the floor, my knees banging against concrete.
    “Now, this’ll be where you stay. Fixed it up for you.” A light bulb buzzes on, illuminating the cinder block room. Against one wall is a mattress with a dirty looking blanket thrown over it. There’s a toilet and sink in the corner. “You stay here. Don’t try to get out. This door’s thick. I’mma lock it, then padlock it. Besides, you come up those stairs, that door leads right into the kitchen. You come through that doorway, someone’ll put a bullet in that pretty little head of yers.”
    Earl turns his back to me and goes through the door. Grinning, Bubba follows him out. The hinges to the old door groan as it’s slammed shut. I hear a lock slide into place followed by another latch click. There is no handle on the door, nothing but smooth wood. I collapse onto the mattress with my hands still bound, and now that I’m alone, I cry harder than I ever thought possible.

    * * *
    I squirm . I cry. He shoves my face in my pillow and the smell of the fabric softener nearly drowns me. I used to love the way it smelled because it reminded me of mother, but I hate it now because it reminds me of him.
    “You’re a bad girl, Ava. This is all your fault and if anyone finds out they’ll think you’re bad, too. A liar. A dirty little whore, and no one loves a dirty little slut.”
    His hands are so rough and large. And I pretend I can’t feel them. I pray that my daddy will come back early and kill him.
    I nearly jump out of the bed. My pulse is racing, I’m covered in a cold sweat and I’m actually sobbing. Dreams like that are why I hate to sleep. During wakefulness I can deny it all I want, but in the covert of sleep those demons wait for me. And for the unknown number of days since I’ve been here, in this prison, those are the only dreams I have, so I try not to sleep. Taking several deep breaths, I pace the length of this small room.
    I’ve been in denial that this has actually happened. I’ve bargained with God. I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. The unknown—that truly is the worst form of torture. What are these men going to do to me? Rape me then murder me? Keep me? I have no idea, but out of all the scenarios I’ve vividly played out in my head, I’ve decided I’d rather them kill me. Being held captive, having those filthy men on top of me doing whatever they want—I can’t handle that, but above anything else I can’t handle having hope that I’ll actually get out of here. My hands are still bound, the skin on my wrists raw and my fingers numb, and with each passing second, the reality that I am never leaving this place becomes far too real.

5
Max
    I can see it in Lucy’s eyes.
    Interesting.
    This one broke much more