Chapter Fourteen
JESSICA'S POV ~
"Don't you think she looks irresistible? I'd like to see how she tastes. Can I touch her just a little?" I heard one of my kidnappers ask, which turned my heart cold with dread.
No!
I could feel my body shaking as I lay on the cold tiles, the pain and fear gripping my soul as I pretended to sleep. It had been two hours since they had hit and tortured me at Emma's command. They had left me with a broken right foot and busied themselves playing chess.
My stomach curled in disgust at the thought of these horrible men touching me. I tried to stay still, despite the whimper that nearly escaped my lips.
The one who appeared to be their boss growled, "Just shut the fuck up! I've told you I need that money to flee this country. We're following her orders, and you asshole better not ruin my plan."
The entire place fell silent the next second as we all heard the sound of footsteps and a buzzing noise. Many thoughts began to swirl in my head.
Was it Keagan? Had he realized I was missing? Had he brought help? What if it wasn't him?
My hope shattered once more at that thought, and my fist tightened around my tummy.
I waited to hear more noises, as these cruel men had all gotten up and were ready to investigate the source of the sound.
"Check on her. See if she's awake or still breathing," I heard one of them say, and my heart skipped a beat.
Shit!
I instantly shut my eyes tightly and willed my breathing to be steady, listening to the approaching footsteps.
Before he could reach me, he stopped for some reason and started shouting, "Shit! Boss, I think I saw something move over here."
The footsteps grew distant as they all left me to investigate the new scene their comrade had mentioned.
Taking in slow breath through my lips, I hitched my hand against the wall and slowly began to stand up, but my bones felt as though they had all been crushed. With a gasp, I slid back to the floor and my head knocked against the shelf next to me. I let out a sharp gasp and clutched my pounding head. Instantly, felt something wet on my hand. A lump formed in my throat—I knew without a doubt that it was blood.
Summoning my last ounce of strength to stand, I held onto the wall only to tumble to the ground once again, nearly falling flat on my face. Luckily, I managed to turn over and land on my back. Tears of frustration and anguish rolled down my eyes and my shoulders trembled with the efforts to keep my sobs as quiet as possible.
Breathing for a few moments, I tried for the third time and thank goddess, my legs held out and I wobbled to my feet. A sharp pain sliced through my right leg and I clamped my hand over my mouth to hold back the cry. My broken ankle. It hurt so bad. Another tear slipped down my eyes. Aware those monsters could return at any time, I started to limp, heading in the opposite direction of where the men had gone. I had no idea where I was going, but I just wanted to get away from them.
The path I chose had rows of dirty stairs covered in dust and other filthy items, causing my nostrils to become clogged as I inhaled the musty air. I held onto the railing with all my might and began to climb slowly, using my other hand to cover my nose.
I followed the dim light illuminating the stairs until I crept into what appeared to be a kitchen. Breathing out, I cautiously made my way into the kitchen and hid under the large counter, trying to devise another escape plan.
Thankfully, they hadn't bound me, likely due to my growing belly. So that was one less restriction. The bleakness of my situation hit me once again and my eyes burned with tears. But I had no strength left to cry, so I started crawling around the kitchen, searching for a door or hidden exit.
No matter how many times I circled the large kitchen, everything seemed sealed. There was no exit except the one I had entered through.
Grabbing a kitchen knife and a sharp, large fork as weapons, I cautiously began to make my way out of the kitchen once more. My ears strained to catch any sound, and my eyes darted across every corridor, watching for any movement.
Before I could move any further, I caught a glimpse of something—or someone—moving in the corner of my eye. I froze and quickly spun around only to see a small child staring right back at me. My stomach dropped.
"Are you running away, miss?" his small, squeaky voice reached me, sending a chill down my spine.
I swallowed hard twice before attempting to speak, yet no words left my mouth.
"Daddy told me to watch over you while you're asleep so you don't escape.” The little boy said, causing more lumps to form in my throat. “Why are you running now? Daddy will hit me again and again."
I stared at the boy, both aghast and confused. Among the seven men who had manhandled me, I had never come across this child.
When I started taking several steps away from him in panic, I saw his big round eyes fill with tears.
"Please don't go.” The boy's plea broke my heart, but this could be an act to trap me back in that hellhole. “Daddy will hurt me."
I glared at him and began to turn, only for him to reveal his right arm. I saw the red, bloody gash on his hand, and then he showed me several scars on his left hand, which made my heart ache for the little boy. He seemed to be around 7 or 8 years old.
Despite the pain radiating from every part of my body, I stopped in my tracks, conflicted. I desperately needed to hurry out of this place and find a hospital. Still, I swallowed hard and tried to ask him some questions.
"Where's your mama?" I whispered.
The little boy shook his head. "She's dead. She fell down the stairs when she got drunk after fighting with my papa."
In my mind, two voices were battling—one urged me to keep running, while the other pleaded for me to help the poor boy. Seeing him standing there, vulnerable and scared, stirred up buried memories of my own experiences with abuse. I didn’t know who his father was amongst my abductors, but they were all evil. No child should have to live that kind of life.
I knelt down to his level, looking into his frightened eyes. "You don't have to do bad things to make your papa happy. Come on, I'll help you get out of this place, okay? Papa won't know, and I'll take you somewhere safe where he can't ever hurt you again. Do you trust me?" I asked, pointing at my injuries—my bruised head, swollen eyes, and bloody mouth—as evidence. "Your papa is a bad man; he almost killed me."
I waited for him to reject my offer so I could flee, but instead, the boy shocked me by nodding in agreement.
My shoulders slumped, and my heart ached with empathy for the boy. I knew I couldn't leave him behind in this hellhole. "Let's go, dear," I whispered, holding out my hand. But he didn’t take it.
I pushed out a breath and gave up.
But as I started walking ahead, I looked over my shoulder and sucked in a breath when I saw the child following me…at a distance though. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but I was already moving, determined to get us both out of there alive.
"Do you know the fastest way out of here?" I asked the little boy, noticing a look of hesitation across his face.
"Papa will kill me," he repeated, his shoulders slumping in worry. I let out a sigh of frustration before scanning the area.
"If we stay here any longer, your papa will kill us, but if we escape and get the cops, he won't be able to reach us. We can do this, okay?" I attempted a reassuring smile but winced as the cut on my lip stung from the effort.
He pointed to the left when I was about to take the right, so I didn't hesitate to follow him. We entered what appeared to be a store, filled with unopened boxes of various equipment. I kept following, feeling anxious about the strange absence of the men's movements.
A large door and two windows came into view, and I rushed towards them, only to realize it was the same door I had been dragged through the first day I’d been brought here. My eyes widened in surprise.
Oh my goodness! Freedom at last. I looked back at the boy, who was staring at me, and my emerging smile slowly dropped. "Aren't you coming with me?" I whispered.
He shook his head, and I nodded, accepting his decision.