Read Online Gone (Gone #1) by Stacy Claflin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stacy Claflin
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carefully. If she said the wrong thing, he might lock her up again.
"Not feeling talkative? I've got some things for you, if you're ready for them, Heather. We'll start with a vegan lemon and asparagus pasta. You can have a shower and put on your new clothes. It's the same outfit you wanted before we went on our trip. Do you remember? Try to forget about what happened to your mother. There's no sense in replaying that in your mind over and over."
What was he talking about?
"Do you remember what you have to say in order to get out of here, Heather?"
Macy clenched her fists. "Yes, Dad."
His eyes widened, and then he smiled. "Good. Good. I'm so glad to hear it, Heather. You get this place cleaned up, and I'll get everything ready." He slammed the door shut, and then Macy could hear the click of the lock.
She stared at the door in disbelief. He hadn't let her out? How much longer was she going to be down there? Tears filled her eyes, and she wiped them away before they could fall to her face.
What exactly did he mean by clean up? Did he only want her to pick up the hay she had thrown around? Or did he want her to put the bales back where they had been? Unable to bear the thought of spending any more time down there, she got up and started the process of moving the heavy bales back to their original positions. At one point, she slipped on the tube of lipstick.
Macy picked it up and examined it. It was an expensive brand. She recognized it as one that Zoey's mom liked to wear. It was strange that pricey makeup would be in a bale of hay in an underground cellar in the middle of nowhere. She didn't have the time or energy to figure out what it was doing there. She shoved it into the hay and continued to push the bale.
Angry tears filled her eyes as she pushed the hay around the room. What was it going to take to finally get out of the horrible, little room?
Her muscles burned from pushing the hay around. They weren't used to being used, and they protested. She had no other choice except to ignore them, right along with her stomach. The labor made her hungry again, and it didn't feel good in the slightest. Macy was getting dizzy, and beads of sweat broke out around her face.
Too tired to keep going, she stopped and leaned against the bale, breathing heavily. She tried listening for noises, hoping Chester would be back soon, but she couldn't hear anything over the sounds of her own heartbeat and her heavy breathing.
She noticed the individual pieces of hay she had thrown around the room. Sighing, she stood and picked up one after the other, stuffing them into the bale that had a dent from where she'd taken them, until there were no more left lying around on the floor. She looked around the room again, frustrated at how much more work she had to do to get the bales put back where they were originally.
Her legs and arms ached, as did her shoulders, back, and stomach. The last thing she wanted to do was push them around anymore. Did she dare risk leaving them as they were? He would probably know most of them still weren't where they belonged.
Macy kicked the nearest bale, hurting her toe inside the shoe. It felt like everything hurt, and her stomach growled. Her throat was parched, with her tongue practically sticking to the roof of her mouth. She knew she couldn't move another bale, at least not until she either had some food or rest.
Perhaps she could beg him to let her eat before moving the rest of them. She needed something. Her aching muscles couldn't be denied any longer, so she threw herself on the hay, unable to take her body's pleas any longer. Her eyes closed on their own, and she didn't fight them. She half-listened to the mice.
The now-familiar sounds of the door in the ceiling caught Macy's attention. She looked up to the door and saw Chester.
"It looks much better down here. You're finally ready to come to the house with me."
Clean
Macy stumbled as she walked through the field between the
"Not feeling talkative? I've got some things for you, if you're ready for them, Heather. We'll start with a vegan lemon and asparagus pasta. You can have a shower and put on your new clothes. It's the same outfit you wanted before we went on our trip. Do you remember? Try to forget about what happened to your mother. There's no sense in replaying that in your mind over and over."
What was he talking about?
"Do you remember what you have to say in order to get out of here, Heather?"
Macy clenched her fists. "Yes, Dad."
His eyes widened, and then he smiled. "Good. Good. I'm so glad to hear it, Heather. You get this place cleaned up, and I'll get everything ready." He slammed the door shut, and then Macy could hear the click of the lock.
She stared at the door in disbelief. He hadn't let her out? How much longer was she going to be down there? Tears filled her eyes, and she wiped them away before they could fall to her face.
What exactly did he mean by clean up? Did he only want her to pick up the hay she had thrown around? Or did he want her to put the bales back where they had been? Unable to bear the thought of spending any more time down there, she got up and started the process of moving the heavy bales back to their original positions. At one point, she slipped on the tube of lipstick.
Macy picked it up and examined it. It was an expensive brand. She recognized it as one that Zoey's mom liked to wear. It was strange that pricey makeup would be in a bale of hay in an underground cellar in the middle of nowhere. She didn't have the time or energy to figure out what it was doing there. She shoved it into the hay and continued to push the bale.
Angry tears filled her eyes as she pushed the hay around the room. What was it going to take to finally get out of the horrible, little room?
Her muscles burned from pushing the hay around. They weren't used to being used, and they protested. She had no other choice except to ignore them, right along with her stomach. The labor made her hungry again, and it didn't feel good in the slightest. Macy was getting dizzy, and beads of sweat broke out around her face.
Too tired to keep going, she stopped and leaned against the bale, breathing heavily. She tried listening for noises, hoping Chester would be back soon, but she couldn't hear anything over the sounds of her own heartbeat and her heavy breathing.
She noticed the individual pieces of hay she had thrown around the room. Sighing, she stood and picked up one after the other, stuffing them into the bale that had a dent from where she'd taken them, until there were no more left lying around on the floor. She looked around the room again, frustrated at how much more work she had to do to get the bales put back where they were originally.
Her legs and arms ached, as did her shoulders, back, and stomach. The last thing she wanted to do was push them around anymore. Did she dare risk leaving them as they were? He would probably know most of them still weren't where they belonged.
Macy kicked the nearest bale, hurting her toe inside the shoe. It felt like everything hurt, and her stomach growled. Her throat was parched, with her tongue practically sticking to the roof of her mouth. She knew she couldn't move another bale, at least not until she either had some food or rest.
Perhaps she could beg him to let her eat before moving the rest of them. She needed something. Her aching muscles couldn't be denied any longer, so she threw herself on the hay, unable to take her body's pleas any longer. Her eyes closed on their own, and she didn't fight them. She half-listened to the mice.
The now-familiar sounds of the door in the ceiling caught Macy's attention. She looked up to the door and saw Chester.
"It looks much better down here. You're finally ready to come to the house with me."
Clean
Macy stumbled as she walked through the field between the
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