sat that way for a long time, and it was like a weight lifting off Jenna’s chest.
“Do you want to talk about what happened? At Confessions, I mean?” Sara asked against her hair.
Jenna shook her head and pulled out of the hug. “No,” she whispered.
“If anybody would understand, it would be me,” Sara said hopefully.
Forcing herself to meet her sister’s gaze, Jenna said, “I know. But I . . . I just . . . don’t want to.” She hated the flash of hurt and disappointment in Sara’s eyes, but Jenna wasn’t ready to put herself back in that place any more than she had to.
“Okay. Standing offer, though. Please know that.”
“Of course.” Out of nowhere, a wave of nausea washed through her. Jenna grasped her stomach and groaned. “Tummy is not happy with the soda, I think.”
“Gonna be sick?”
“God, I hope not. Maybe I’ll just rest.” Jenna crawled toward the pillow. “Bring the bucket closer just in case?”
“Do you want me to stay?” Sara asked as she got off the bed, grabbed the bucket from across the room, and placed it next to the bed.
“No, that’s okay. Go be with Shane,” she said, enjoying the bit of pink that filled into Sara’s cheeks. Jenna chuckled despite her rolling belly.
“I’ll check on you in a bit,” Sara said. On her way out, she flicked off the overhead light, leaving only the little lamp in the corner to throw off light.
It’s not dark. Don’t freak out. There’s plenty of light. Right.
Jenna closed her eyes, thinking maybe she could sleep off the nausea. Problem was, when she closed her eyes, images she didn’t want to see played on the insides of her eyelids. Bruno busting through her bedroom door. The gun in her face as she lay tied on the floor in the back of the van. The suffocating darkness of the black room.
Staring up at the men groping her while she lay helpless, unable to move a muscle.
Heart racing so loud it pounded blood behind her ears, her eyes blinked open, her gaze settling on the small lamp. A shiver passed over her body until she couldn’t stop shaking.
And despite being rescued, Jenna couldn’t help but wonder if she’d really ever be able to escape what had happened at Confessions.
Chapter 4
J ENNA MADE IT maybe twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five minutes before she was nearly so terrified she was ready to scream for help.
As she flew off the bed, out of the room, and through the apartment, she hated herself for not being braver, for not being stronger, for not being tougher.
Her brain knew she was being irrational, but that didn’t keep her imagination from conjuring every horrible scenario, her ears from hearing suspicious noises, and her heart from hammering like an attack was imminent.
Until she couldn’t convince herself it wasn’t true.
She only noticed the apartment enough to know she was alone. Racing down the stairs, she held tight to the gray metal railing, afraid in her shakiness that she’d go tumbling to the bottom. At the next landing were two gray doors, both with keypads next to them. Music sounded out from behind the one on the left, so she tried there. Locked. She knocked. Again. Then again. No answer.
She crossed the hall to the other door and knocked again. Nothing.
The shaking worsened. It was like a nightmare where you found one door after another but none would open.
Jenna started down the stairs again and found a door right at the bottom. More music played, but this one opened when she tried the handle, so she raced in.
She skidded into what looked like a lounge with couches grouped in one corner and a couple of tables and chairs filling the center. One wall had a large painting, almost like graffiti, that read, “Bleed with me and you will forever be my brother” in shades of reds and grays and blacks.
“Hello? Is anybody here?” she called.
Just then, a black-and-tan puppy came out of one of the rooms off the hallway in front of her and loped her way. The little thing was missing a
“Do you want to talk about what happened? At Confessions, I mean?” Sara asked against her hair.
Jenna shook her head and pulled out of the hug. “No,” she whispered.
“If anybody would understand, it would be me,” Sara said hopefully.
Forcing herself to meet her sister’s gaze, Jenna said, “I know. But I . . . I just . . . don’t want to.” She hated the flash of hurt and disappointment in Sara’s eyes, but Jenna wasn’t ready to put herself back in that place any more than she had to.
“Okay. Standing offer, though. Please know that.”
“Of course.” Out of nowhere, a wave of nausea washed through her. Jenna grasped her stomach and groaned. “Tummy is not happy with the soda, I think.”
“Gonna be sick?”
“God, I hope not. Maybe I’ll just rest.” Jenna crawled toward the pillow. “Bring the bucket closer just in case?”
“Do you want me to stay?” Sara asked as she got off the bed, grabbed the bucket from across the room, and placed it next to the bed.
“No, that’s okay. Go be with Shane,” she said, enjoying the bit of pink that filled into Sara’s cheeks. Jenna chuckled despite her rolling belly.
“I’ll check on you in a bit,” Sara said. On her way out, she flicked off the overhead light, leaving only the little lamp in the corner to throw off light.
It’s not dark. Don’t freak out. There’s plenty of light. Right.
Jenna closed her eyes, thinking maybe she could sleep off the nausea. Problem was, when she closed her eyes, images she didn’t want to see played on the insides of her eyelids. Bruno busting through her bedroom door. The gun in her face as she lay tied on the floor in the back of the van. The suffocating darkness of the black room.
Staring up at the men groping her while she lay helpless, unable to move a muscle.
Heart racing so loud it pounded blood behind her ears, her eyes blinked open, her gaze settling on the small lamp. A shiver passed over her body until she couldn’t stop shaking.
And despite being rescued, Jenna couldn’t help but wonder if she’d really ever be able to escape what had happened at Confessions.
Chapter 4
J ENNA MADE IT maybe twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five minutes before she was nearly so terrified she was ready to scream for help.
As she flew off the bed, out of the room, and through the apartment, she hated herself for not being braver, for not being stronger, for not being tougher.
Her brain knew she was being irrational, but that didn’t keep her imagination from conjuring every horrible scenario, her ears from hearing suspicious noises, and her heart from hammering like an attack was imminent.
Until she couldn’t convince herself it wasn’t true.
She only noticed the apartment enough to know she was alone. Racing down the stairs, she held tight to the gray metal railing, afraid in her shakiness that she’d go tumbling to the bottom. At the next landing were two gray doors, both with keypads next to them. Music sounded out from behind the one on the left, so she tried there. Locked. She knocked. Again. Then again. No answer.
She crossed the hall to the other door and knocked again. Nothing.
The shaking worsened. It was like a nightmare where you found one door after another but none would open.
Jenna started down the stairs again and found a door right at the bottom. More music played, but this one opened when she tried the handle, so she raced in.
She skidded into what looked like a lounge with couches grouped in one corner and a couple of tables and chairs filling the center. One wall had a large painting, almost like graffiti, that read, “Bleed with me and you will forever be my brother” in shades of reds and grays and blacks.
“Hello? Is anybody here?” she called.
Just then, a black-and-tan puppy came out of one of the rooms off the hallway in front of her and loped her way. The little thing was missing a
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