Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I waited. Waited, heart in mouth. Michelle sucked in a sharp breath. “He made me dress like he dressed you.” She shook her head, evidently replaying those days in her mind. “But I wasn’t you. No matter what he did to me . . . everything he wanted, or did do, to you.” My face blanched. He raped her. Juan raped her, because I wasn’t there for him to fuck. “He started by pouring acid on my back. But it didn’t please him. So he kept going. Each month it would be something else, somewhere else on my body he would destroy.” I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to extract the mountain of guilt that was building in my body. “Until there was nothing else left of me to take.”
Michelle inhaled, wincing. She stretched out her hand. I sobbed when her rough fingers took hold of my hands and squeezed. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she said hoarsely. She looked up at me. “I want to go home, Sia. It all hurts so much.” I squeezed her fingers back, trying not to squeeze too hard, to cause her more pain.
“I’ll get you there,” I promised. She slowly lifted her head and tried to smile. The look of hopelessness on her face was the saddest thing I’d ever seen. “I will,” I pushed harder, trying to help her. To give her hope.
She closed her eyes. “I want to see green fields. There’s so much desert here. Too much darkness.”
My eyes lifted to meet Cowboy’s. His face was like stone as he listened to Michelle reminisce about home. “Michelle?” he said. Michelle turned her head to face him. Cowboy glanced at the door. “I have a knife in my boot,” he whispered, barely looking away from the door for whatever, and whoever, would come through next. He waggled one of his feet.
Michelle looked to me. “You can trust him,” I said. “He’s with me.” Michelle shuffled across the room and stopped at Cowboy’s feet.
“At the side. It’s tucked into my sock.”
Michelle reached in, all the time casting wary glances back at me. I nodded my head, trying to give her encouragement. She pulled out the knife. I exhaled in relief, as did Cowboy. Cowboy moved his hands behind the chair. “Untie me,” he instructed, still watching the door.
But Michelle started backing away.
“Michelle?” I questioned as she looked at me. Her hands were shaking and her lips were trembling. “Michelle?” I said, panic in my voice. Tear after tear left Michelle’s eye . . . then she looked at Cowboy and whispered, “Thank you . . .”
My heart tore down the center at the final tone in those two words. I opened my mouth to say something, anything to try to lift her from her hopelessness, but I was beaten to it by two quick slashes of the sharp knife across her wrists.
“NO!” I screamed, the hoarseness of my voice causing my words to fade to nothing. Michelle dropped the knife to the ground, the metal clanging on the concrete. Her too-thin legs gave way, and she staggered back to the wall behind her. Blood dripped to the floor around her. She slumped down the wall, a smile playing on her lips. “Michelle,” I whispered, as the shell containing my best friend met my eyes, never moving her gaze from mine as the light in her eyes faded to nothing.
The tinny scent of blood infused the air. I stared and stared at Michelle on the floor, eyes open, yet gone. A loud cry ripped from my body. And then I screamed. I screamed so loud. So fucking loud at the asshole who could do this to another human being.
I hated him. I hated Juan Garcia with everything that I was. Everything he stood for and everything he did.
The door to the room opened, and the Nazi came in. Anger replaced the sorrow I was feeling. My hands shook on the seat. “Where is he?” I growled.
The Nazi’s eyes widened as he saw Michelle. “You fucked up,” he gloated. “Boss man had plans for her.” The pulse in my throat throbbed. He shrugged, and then looked at Cowboy. “It’ll just be you he uses.”
I froze and snapped my head to Cowboy. His jaw was clenched. I felt the blood drain from my face. He was going to kill him. Juan was going to very slowly kill Cowboy in front of me. Just like he’d been going to do with Michelle before she took her own misery-ridden life.
“Don’t touch him,” I snarled as the Nazi walked closer to Cowboy. He had his knife in his hand again.
“Oh, I’m gonna touch him.” The Nazi stopped in front of Cowboy. “I was disappointed when I found out I only got you.” He twirled the knife in his hand. “I was told I was getting a mongrel.” My blood turned to ice. Cowboy’s tied hands clenched into fists behind him. The Nazi noticed. He glanced at me, then at Cowboy and asked him, “You a fag as well as a coon-lover?”