Read Online Shards of Us by K. R. Caverly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: K. R. Caverly
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and soft… I sit up suddenly.
My whole body is clean . I smell like soap--that's what I was smelling! My hair feels newly wet and my skin is cool and relaxed, like I'd just gotten out of the shower.
But I didn't take a shower.
Then, I look down. I realize I'm wearing a dress. Not just any dress, but the black dress I didn't wear the night of what happened to Ash. My heart pounds faster. I feel for my lips. I'm wearing lipstick again too, but there's no way my lipstick stayed intact the whole night. Which means…
Someone showered and dressed me.
The thought makes my stomach churn and more tears come to my eyes. There's only one reason I can think of for someone to dress me like this, and the result is not pretty.
My body quivers. I don't know what's happening. I don't know why I'm here. All I kn ow is that I just want to leave, with my life intact.
I haven't felt this hopeless in two years.
Chapter Six
I wake up to the sound of the shower running. My eyes shoot open right away.
A shower.
Someone else is here.
I look aroun d desperately for the sound as soon as I sit up in bed, until I finally pinpoint it as coming from the small bathroom off to the side I saw earlier. I stand up, but my legs still feel weak. I realize then that there's a blanket around me. I know for a fact I didn't leave it there. The room is cold, though, and the blanket feels nice and warm against my skin, as if whoever put it there was actually doing me a favor.
I throw the blanket off of me as soon as the thought crosses my mind.
I'm not an idiot. I know all about Stockholm Syndrome. It's sure as hell not happening to me.
So I stand up. My body is still shaking, but at least I can walk without stumbling now. I take one small step after another toward the open door and the sound of the shower, the cool tile making the toes on my bare feet curl. I try to breathe evenly, to open and close my eyes and focus on the light streaming out of the bathroom, to do anything but let this fear that's clinging to me take over.
Someone is definitely here, and that someone may be my one key to getting out of this place, whatever it is.
My head throbs as I make my way over, but I ignore it, focusing on each of my tiny steps instead, on making sure I don't make a sound as I move across the room. Finally, I reach the wall beside the open door, and I stop, catch a breath. My heart is pounding again. I don't even know what I'm doing--I most certainly don't have a plan--but I know I need to get out of here. I can't be locked up like this. I can't be dead.
I have to go home. I have to tell the police what happened. I have to--
I look down, searching for anything to use as a weapon. I don't know who locked me up here, but I'm certain they're dangerous. My eyes lock on an empty plate left outside of the bathroom. I pick it up slowly, careful not to make a sound, and I inch along the wall until I'm just beside the open door where the yellow light pours out of.
I take a deep breath, holding up the plate in attack position. The shower is still running, but I can't hear anyone in there. I hesitate. What if they overpower me? What if this gets me killed? What if it doesn't well?
I push away the thought immediately, because for all I know, this is my only chance at freedom. It's now or never.
My heart races as I lift up the plate, turn into the op en door, and charge the shower. I burst through the curtains, prepared to hit whoever over the head with the plate, but no one is there. The shower is empty.
My stomach drops. My chest heaves. I take in one last defeated breath, and I'm about to collapse into the corner and cry some more, cry for being so stupid and foolish, when I hear the click of a gun behind me.
I whirl around, and e very muscle in my body freezes at once.
A gun.
Trained on me.
My body has already started shaking as I turn to see what is going on, praying whoever it is doesn't kill me in the process. What I find instead hurts more
My whole body is clean . I smell like soap--that's what I was smelling! My hair feels newly wet and my skin is cool and relaxed, like I'd just gotten out of the shower.
But I didn't take a shower.
Then, I look down. I realize I'm wearing a dress. Not just any dress, but the black dress I didn't wear the night of what happened to Ash. My heart pounds faster. I feel for my lips. I'm wearing lipstick again too, but there's no way my lipstick stayed intact the whole night. Which means…
Someone showered and dressed me.
The thought makes my stomach churn and more tears come to my eyes. There's only one reason I can think of for someone to dress me like this, and the result is not pretty.
My body quivers. I don't know what's happening. I don't know why I'm here. All I kn ow is that I just want to leave, with my life intact.
I haven't felt this hopeless in two years.
Chapter Six
I wake up to the sound of the shower running. My eyes shoot open right away.
A shower.
Someone else is here.
I look aroun d desperately for the sound as soon as I sit up in bed, until I finally pinpoint it as coming from the small bathroom off to the side I saw earlier. I stand up, but my legs still feel weak. I realize then that there's a blanket around me. I know for a fact I didn't leave it there. The room is cold, though, and the blanket feels nice and warm against my skin, as if whoever put it there was actually doing me a favor.
I throw the blanket off of me as soon as the thought crosses my mind.
I'm not an idiot. I know all about Stockholm Syndrome. It's sure as hell not happening to me.
So I stand up. My body is still shaking, but at least I can walk without stumbling now. I take one small step after another toward the open door and the sound of the shower, the cool tile making the toes on my bare feet curl. I try to breathe evenly, to open and close my eyes and focus on the light streaming out of the bathroom, to do anything but let this fear that's clinging to me take over.
Someone is definitely here, and that someone may be my one key to getting out of this place, whatever it is.
My head throbs as I make my way over, but I ignore it, focusing on each of my tiny steps instead, on making sure I don't make a sound as I move across the room. Finally, I reach the wall beside the open door, and I stop, catch a breath. My heart is pounding again. I don't even know what I'm doing--I most certainly don't have a plan--but I know I need to get out of here. I can't be locked up like this. I can't be dead.
I have to go home. I have to tell the police what happened. I have to--
I look down, searching for anything to use as a weapon. I don't know who locked me up here, but I'm certain they're dangerous. My eyes lock on an empty plate left outside of the bathroom. I pick it up slowly, careful not to make a sound, and I inch along the wall until I'm just beside the open door where the yellow light pours out of.
I take a deep breath, holding up the plate in attack position. The shower is still running, but I can't hear anyone in there. I hesitate. What if they overpower me? What if this gets me killed? What if it doesn't well?
I push away the thought immediately, because for all I know, this is my only chance at freedom. It's now or never.
My heart races as I lift up the plate, turn into the op en door, and charge the shower. I burst through the curtains, prepared to hit whoever over the head with the plate, but no one is there. The shower is empty.
My stomach drops. My chest heaves. I take in one last defeated breath, and I'm about to collapse into the corner and cry some more, cry for being so stupid and foolish, when I hear the click of a gun behind me.
I whirl around, and e very muscle in my body freezes at once.
A gun.
Trained on me.
My body has already started shaking as I turn to see what is going on, praying whoever it is doesn't kill me in the process. What I find instead hurts more
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