Breathe In Page 5

  “You will not go near it. You will do as you’re told. Or I will hurt you. You got it?”

  I nod.

  He releases my chin and slaps me across the face. My head snaps hard to the left and my right cheek flashes hot where his palm connected. Instant tears stream down my face. He grabs my chin again and hauls me upright.

  “Answer me when I ask you a question. Understand?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “You and that camera right there are going to make me a lot of money. Do you understand?”

  I don’t understand at all. I’m afraid to. “Yes.” I nod over and over again. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now sit your ass down.”

  Before I can do as I’m told, he gives me a shove. I topple onto the bed. Unable to catch myself with my hands behind my back, I fall to my side, then scramble to sit upright.

  He gives me a look of disgust before walking out the door and slamming it behind him.

  Defeated and scared beyond words, I’m paralyzed. I need to escape, but I fear this man’s wrath if he catches me. I bite my lip and earnestly try to fight back the tears. But they are relentless and gush forth anyway. I give in and let them come. Racking sobs engulf my body. I look toward the camera, no longer innocuous. It stares at me menacingly, my only witness.

  What will it see?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Pace. Pace. Pace back and forth alongside the bed, as far as my leash will allow. Steal glances at my witness staring back at me from the corner of the room. I can’t decide whether to think of the object as an enemy, watching silently, passively. Or as an ally, quietly capturing my plight, possibly something I can use to benefit me. But how?

  I come to an abrupt halt as memories of a conversation from the night before plummet through the center of my frazzled brain. Terin and I, standing out in front of the club. We talked about the girl from Bellingham. What was her name? Sheila something. Weaverton, I think. She’d been kidnapped months ago. Murdered. Everything captured on camera solely for the purpose of being sold on the black market. A heinous, revolting crime.

  A snuff film.

  I can’t feel my face. My lips and fingers buzz sharply. With shaky, unstable limbs, I plop down on the edge of the bed before I pass out. I’m the next Sheila Weaverton. I’m not sure how I know, but I do.

  My cell phone. I left my cellphone behind, in my handbag. I’m certain it’s in Tom’s car. The events in his backseat bring hot humiliation to my cheeks. I close my eyes, reliving the entire evening in a single flash. If I had just been less pathetic. If only I had stayed in the bar, away from Tom. Better yet, if I had just stayed home in the first place. Terin said it so perfectly, I need to stick up for myself. I need to stand my ground. She probably didn’t mean against her, but if I had merely said, “No, I don’t want to go to the club,” I wouldn’t be where I am now.

  God, poor Terin. She’s probably worried sick about me. She’s probably called my phone a thousand times. Would Tom answer it? Would he try to drop it by my place? Someone, somehow would eventually discover I’m missing, right? Agh! I want to scream.

  Opening my eyes, I force myself back into the now. There’s no use in lingering in the past. My life depends on having only productive, focused thoughts that will get me out of this predicament. Predicament. I almost laugh. The word seems much too innocuous for the peril I’m in.

  A door slams and two tenor voices fill the empty walls of the cabin on the other side of my bedroom wall. Vance has returned. From where, though? Can he come and go as he pleases? Does that mean we aren’t too far out of town? I wish I had been able to see where we were going. I’m not even sure how long it took us to get here because I had been in and out of consciousness.

  Straining to decipher the conversation, my muscles freeze in place so as not to cause any extraneous noise. My breathing shallows.

  “Yeah, she’s awake.” Jake’s voice is gruff and muffled. I imagine him stuffing food into his mouth while relaying recent events to Vance.

  “Well, how is she?”

  “She fucking stinks. That’s how she is. Smells like puke. You’re going to help me give her a bath in a minute here. Just as soon as I’m done eating. You want some food?”

  “No, I had something already.” Vance’s tone is no less gruff, but for some reason I find it less menacing. Maybe because he has yet to hurt me. This is ridiculous, of course. He’s the one who had been following me in the first place. I shake my head.

  “How do you intend to bathe her? There’s not even a bathroom in this place.”

  A chair scrapes against the floor. Dishes clink in the sink. Jake is done with his meal. “I’ll show you.”

  Muscles freeze tighter. I clasp my hands together behind me, my palms sweaty and my wrists stinging. Staring at the bedroom door, I wait in dread for my captors to enter.

  “Wait,” Vance shouts as Jake strolls through the bedroom door. “You’re not wearing a mask. What about the camera?”

  Jake’s tone and body language show his growing agitation as he turns to face Vance. “Dude, I’m not wearing that damn ski mask for this one. That thing was a pain in the ass last time. Felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see worth a damn and that chick kept grabbing at it every chance she got. Way more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “So you’re just going to be identifiable to anyone who watches it?”

  Jake shakes his head in disbelief. “No. Are you stupid? I’m going to blur out our faces when I edit the tape, dumbass. By the time I’m done with it, no one will be able to tell us from their own neighbor. Jesus, you think I’m some kind of idiot or something?”

  Vance looks apprehensive and holds back when Jake approaches me. As if sensing what he wants, I stand up just before he reaches the bed. Crouching low, he reaches under the metal frame and unties my leash. “Grab the camera, Vance.”

  Abandoning any lingering hesitation, Vance leaps into action and lifts the camera off the tripod. Holding it out in front, pointed my direction, he faces us. Jake stands tall and gathers the rope until there is very little slack between the two of us. “Follow me.”

  Jake turns swiftly and marches forward. Even though I leap forward to keep up, the rope pulls taut against my wrists. Searing pain shoots up my forearms. My bare feet scuff along the dirty floor as I rush to keep up. I’m getting a bath despite lacking a bathroom and I dread whatever that means.

  My skirt rides up so I can feel my butt hanging out, and all I can think about is Vance following behind with the camera. Mortified, my cheeks flush hot, but I keep my focus in front of me so I can anticipate Jake’s next moves.

  We file through the bedroom door and into the living space, which serves as a compact kitchen and living room, with a miniature television in the corner and one pea green couch along the wall. The cabin is dilapidated and grimy, but it has a lived-in feel to it. I wonder if one of these men actually lives here. It’s too small for both of them.

  Distracted, I trip and stumble over a broken board in the flooring. My body propels forward faster than my feet can keep up with. My arms strain against my bindings in an attempt to brace against the fall. Jarring pain shoots from knee to hip when my right knee slams against the floor. Without arms to protect my face, my chin crashes against the dusty floor seconds later. Teeth collide together. My brain jostles within my skull.

  Hair falls over my face, blinding me. I spurt and sputter the dust from my dry mouth, rolling over to my back, my wrists pressed painfully into the floor under me. Jake looms directly above, staring down at with me with impatience. With a violent tug, he barks at me. “Get up.”

  The force drags me a foot toward him across the dirty flooring. Vance stands two feet away, camera in hand, a quiet spectator. I roll back to my stomach and try to bring my knees up under me so I can stand. Jake stomps toward me. His fingers lace through the hair at the nape of my neck and brings me to my feet with a sharp pull. I scream, tears streaming down my cheeks as a headache spreads from the bottom of
my skull to the crown of my head. “Stop, stop. That hurts,” I yelp.

  Jake doesn’t care. Vance doesn’t care.

  Jake lets go of my hair and spins toward the door, dragging me along as if nothing happened. He jerks the front door open and we exit the cabin. Fresh air welcomes my nose but assaults my skin. Goosebumps prickle up over every inch of my body. Fall has brought brisk temperatures to the Northwest. The ground is damp. The sky is an unbroken slate of gray.

  I scan the grounds. We are at the end of a rugged dirt road. Tall grass grows wildly along the tire tracks. Evergreens and birch trees cluster thickly, encircling the property. Silence permeates our surroundings. Even the birds hide out today. The isolation fills me with dread.

  I scurry down the two battered steps. Mud seeps between my toes when we reach the bottom. Shivers contract my tired muscles. I’m whimpering, snot and tears smearing down my face in a sticky mess.

  Jake leads us along the front of the shack and around the corner, down a short path. He stops suddenly and snatches a hose off the ground. With a flick of the wrist, he twists the round knob to turn it on. Rusty pipes moan and complain before water coughs and spurts through the line. It strikes me odd that the house has running water but no bathroom.

  Before I can ponder this further, Jake yanks me closer and holds the hose over my head. Icy water cascades over my scalp, into my hair, and spills down my body. A shrill cry escapes my lips. I twist and dance without thinking about my actions, writhing to get away. Jake laughs and latches onto a lock of wet hair, making sure I stay directly under the stream of water. I can’t see. Water drips down into my eyes. I blink over and over again. I gasp for breath. Jake redirects the water straight into my face. I sputter and gasp for air as cold liquid fills my open mouth and nose. Oxygen. I need oxygen. Shivering uncontrollably, my muscles cramp and quiver.

  Jake drops my leash to the ground. With one hand holding the hose, the other tugs on my skirt. He pulls it over my hips and down my legs in one swoop. The shirt follows, so that I’m standing in only my bra and panties. Shivering. His hand returns to scrub my hair. Gasp for air. I’m so cold.

  He gropes along the curves of my body, his calloused hand scratching along the surface of my skin like a rough luffa. The hose follows, away from my face, finally allowing me to breathe in a full, clean breath. When my eyes clear, I catch Vance out of the corner of my vision. Watching and recording everything. Humiliation consumes me. This cannot be happening. I want to fight but my muscles are screaming. Fatigue plagues me. I’m sure I must have a severe concussion by the way it takes everything to stand upright rather than fall to my knees.

  Give up, I think while I shiver and shake and sob under the frigid water. I tip my head back and gape up at the blank, stark sky, and for the briefest of moments I silently beg for answers. Why? Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? I’ve never felt so bare, so naked, so exposed, so alone, in my life.

  No one answers. No one hears me. I am alone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cold to the bone, I march in silence behind Jake. Vance follows quietly.

  I’m numb. Cold…but somehow numb at the same time. I’m outside of my body watching from a distance now. It’s as if I’m watching a movie. Just as hundreds, maybe thousands, of disturbed souls will do when they watch this film. When I’m already dead. Forgotten. No longer a real human being. Just someone to gossip about, feel sympathy for.

  Down the muddy path. Up the two rickety stairs. Through the door. Heat embraces my body as we enter the cabin and leave the cool fall weather outside. This time, when I smell remnants of bacon, my stomach reacts with interest. I haven’t eaten since early evening the day before.

  Through the small living space and back to the bedroom. No one has said a word since the hose was turned off. Jake crouches low and reties me to the bedframe. The only sound is the chattering of my teeth. I look down at my muddy feet and notice my toes have a bluish tinge. I imagine my hands and lips look similar. I shiver so hard it looks as if I’m having a mild seizure. If only my hands were free so I could rub them up and down my arms and legs for friction. Any heat at all would be welcome.

  When Jake stands to his full height, he seems tired too. Either that, or he’s bored. I wonder if he slept at all last night. His gaze shifts to Vance, then back to me. He glances down at his clothing. “Shit, I’m all wet.” His brow furrows but his tone remains flat. “Look what you did. Now I have to change.” Without another word, he stomps out of the room. His moods baffle me.

  Vance hovers in the corner of the room, returning the camera to its tripod home. When he turns, I feel the weight of his stare. Standing awkwardly next to the bed, I glance in his direction. We meet gazes for a brief moment. His brows knit together in concern as his gaze travels down the length of my body and back up. My nerves are frayed, so I’m not sure if I trust my own judgment, but I sense that he feels some modicum of sympathy toward me. Stripped down to my underwear, I feel naked before him. Embarrassed, I stare at the floor.

  When he finally crosses the room, I keep my eyes averted until he walks out the door. Relieved to finally be alone, I sink onto the bed and cry. No sound utters from my lips. These are silent, fruitless tears. This situation is hopeless. I’m going to die here.

  Moments later, Vance steps back into the room. I look up just as he wraps a large navy blue blanket around my shoulders. The wool scratches against my skin. Without saying a word, he turns and walks away, shutting the door behind him.

  I huddle under the heavy weight of the blanket, drawing my feet curled up under me onto the bed. My vision won’t fully focus, so I stare blindly at the wall as violent shivers slowly leave my body. Everything hurts. Mainly my jaw from chattering and clenching. I open my mouth widely and stretch the ligaments.

  For the first time in the last twelve hours, I’m almost grateful. Given my situation, it seems impossible to feel gratitude, but I do. Grateful for something as simple as a wool blanket. An itchy, odorous wool blanket, but a blanket nonetheless.

  My eyes close slowly, heavy as anchors. I’m so tired. As warmth returns to my limbs, I sink further into the bed. Ungracefully, I lie on my side, my hands still fixed behind my back. Drifting. I’m drifting away.

  I hope I never wake up.

  ***

  Eyes won’t open. I hear them talking just outside my door, their voices grumbling quietly back and forth. I struggle to pull myself out of sleep and back to reality. My right arm is trapped under me and has fallen asleep. My right hand buzzes fiercely. My lethargic lids finally flutter open. Light streams through the window. I’ve slept maybe an hour by the looks of things. Desperate to give my shoulder relief, I roll to my stomach as slowly as possible, hoping to keep the bed from creaking. I don’t want to draw attention to myself while listening to their conversation.

  Vance keeps his voice low, just above a high whisper. “I don’t get it. Why are we dragging it out? Last time, we had it done and over with within hours. I had her buried before dusk.”

  Jake doesn’t bother to lower his voice. “Yeah, but that’s the problem. It was too quick. Even the guy who bought it said so. Said we lacked creativity. I think if we offer more of a show, spice things up a bit, then we’ll get a lot more money for it. Same guy hired us to do another, but said he wants better than last time. He handpicked this girl specifically. He’s a sick bastard.”

  “Well, what does that make us?” Vance says.

  “What, you suddenly have a conscience now, Vance? That girl in there? No one gives a fuck about her. You said it yourself. You’ve watched for a while now and she has, what, one friend? Who the fuck cares? Get over it.”

  His words slam into me. Who the fuck cares? He’s right. Besides Terin, there’s no one. Is anyone even aware that I’m gone? Terin’s likely not even all that worried yet. She probably figures I snuck home last night and now I’m ignoring her texts. Again.

  “Take that little scene with the hose,” Jake says. “That’s ente
rtainment. That’s what people want to see. They want a show.”

  “So what are you saying? We keep her around for a day? Two days? A week? How long are we talking here? People are going to start looking for her soon. Even if she doesn’t have a lot of friends, they’re going to eventually notice she’s missing. Tomorrow is Monday and she’ll miss work. She ain’t the kind of girl who just skips out on work without calling in. I don’t want police sniffing around before she’s dead and buried. I’m not into that. I wanna get it done and leave the state. Like last time.”

  “I agree. We can’t keep her around for long. I’m thinking we focus on the task at hand, give the camera a good few days of entertainment. Slap her around. Fuck with her a bit. Then finish the job before anyone even files a missing-person report.”

  Vance clears his throat. “So if he handpicked her like you said, does that mean he knows her?”

  Jake lets out a disturbing laugh. “What do I care?”

  Feels as if my heart is going to beat its way right out of my chest wall. It hammers away at an unforgiving pace. Listening to these men plot out my death, the last few hours, maybe days of my life, is surreal. My muscles shake with tension, ready to respond. I’m alert. Scan the room for answers. How can I get out of this? There is no way out of this bedroom other than the tiny window, which I doubt I can fit through. Or straight through the door, which is not an option with both men blocking the way. I doubt I’d get very far with my hands behind my back, anyway.

  I need my hands free. This is essential. My mind races, seeking a way out of my restraints. I either need to break free of them, or I must convince them to untie me. This thought triggers another realization. I’ve barely spoken to them. I’ve been too busy cowering and bawling my eyes out. What in the hell is wrong with me?

  “Help. Please help.”

  Both men enter the room and stand beside the bed, gawking down at me, surprised that I’ve decided to speak.