Page 97 of Wallflower

What did he do to me?

My hands shake as I raise them to my mouth, fingers tracing over the thread stitched through my skin, the x’s that criss cross over my lips.

“Don’t touch, Rosie. You don’t want an infection.”

His fingers brush through my hair, working too gently through the knots. “I know I promised to get you out,” he says, sectioning my waves into four parts, “but what if something happens and I never see you again?” He crisscrosses the hair over itself in a pattern, effortlessly weaving the pieces into a braid while I watch through the mirror. “At least this way, I’ll always know where you’ll be.”

The fishtail hangs down the centre of my back. He tugs on it when he finishes wrapping the elastic tight, tilting my head back far enough to plant a kiss on my forehead.

Rage and betrayal swirl into a violent storm.

How could he do this to me? Jealousy is one thing, but all of this is on another level.

I whirl on Sam so fast my head spins. Driving my fist into his face with every ounce of strength I have sends him stumbling back. I take a page from Cynthia’s book, grabbing the lamp off the dresser to my left. The cord rips free from the outlet, trailing behind me as I advance on Sam, ready to pummel his face until it's unrecognizable.

Despite all my anger, he’s bigger than me. Smarter too…with a wealth of experience subduing women under his belt.

I whip the heavy lamp at him, not watching to see if it hits him or he catches it, and race for the door. The light I’ve come accustomed to seeing isn’t glowing in the dim room, and I pray that means the door is unlocked.

There’s no resistance when I turn the knob, and the door swings open without a sound.

“Rose!” Sam bellows after me, but I’m not stopping. I close the door behind me, slamming my palm down on an illuminated button I hope locks it behind me.

Without waiting for confirmation, I take off as quietly as possible to my left.

My bare feet pad silently down the hallway, the sporadic moaning of happy clients echoing through the charged atmosphere. I hear Sam’s aggressive bangs against the door diminishing in intensity with my every footfall.

If he doesn’t shut up he’s going to get us both caught.

Whatever drugs he gave me are starting to wear off. It’s becoming harder and harder to keep my whimpers of pain silent.

Cautiously, I approach a stairwell. It winds down to the cold marble floor of the main level, where with careful observation, I can make out the guards stationed at the front door. Brad’s bald head reflects the light from the entrance way, head tipped back, eyes closed. Possibly snoozing on the job.

He’s blocking my escape route, so I’ll have to find another way out of this sprawling complex.

Slowly, I descend the staircase, tucking myself close to the railing and crouching to avoid detection.

“Gotta take a whiz.” The voice comes from the man standing opposite of Brad, who in return nods. The worker I recognize as Rylan, abandons his post, disappearing down a hallway to the right.

Fuck, can I make it past Brad? I just need to get outside. Hopefully, Maximus’s dogs are asleep and I can get over the fence without issue.

Gathering all the courage I possess in this battered body, I move down the final few steps. Relief threatens to rush through me when I touch the marble floors, but I have so much farther to go, not to mention the woods around Bleakcrest to navigate. Any celebration now is premature.

Brad’s oblivious as I creep without a sound across the entryway. Slipping into the shadows around the corner and out of sight, I allow myself a moment to catch my breath and take in the area around me.

Moonlight beams through a window, casting across the floor. Thankfully, I’ll have the cover of night once I make it outside.

Moving to the adjacent room, patio doors lit up by the moon shine like a beacon in the night. Hurriedly, I rush for them, only to collide with something in my haste.

It halts me in my tracks. I look away from the light, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the shadows once more.

“Hello, whore. Fancy meeting you here.”

Richmond.

The tang of gasoline hangs in the air as I wait for the other half of this meeting to arrive. The sun has crested in the sky, starting its low descent toward the horizon. It’s quarter past the hour and I’m all out of fucks. “It appears we’ve been stood up, let’s get the fuck out of here!”

Kyle emerges from the thick trees lining the gravel parking lot, dressed in a dark green t-shirt and dark jeans. “About fucking time. The bugs here are insane. I think there’s a beehive nearby. The buzzing was driving me nuts.”