Page 2 of Chained

My chest feels like it's collapsing, each breath harder than the last. One. Two. Three. I repeat in my head, over and over as I get closer to breaking. Stay strong. She needs you to stay strong. Just keep breathing, you can do this.

"Amora," she calls out my name for a final time, and no matter how hard I try, I can't bite back the irritation. It's always me. It's always me being the one to save you.

"What?" I snap.

"What are we gonna do? I'm so scared," she sobs as the thudding boots come to a stop behind the wood door. Her face crumbles as she drags her knees to her chest and slowly rocks to soothe herself. In this moment, nothing anyone could do to me would be worse than this. I snapped. I made her cry when she's already breaking.

A faint voice calls out through the wood, and the sound of keys being dragged from a pocket follows shortly behind, giving me no time to tell her I'm sorry or I'll protect you or even I love you. I hope she knows this already. God, I hope she knows.

"Don't look at the door, Rosa. Whatever you do. Just don't look." My voice shakes despite the command I've given; I just pray she listens. Deep down, I wish I could look away, too, but my eyes remain firmly at the door. I need to know what comes next, and more importantly, who.

Chapter Two

Ace

EIGHT YEARS OLD

It always starts the same: the thunder of boots pounding across the floorboards, predatory and merciless. My eyes snap open. The ceiling is cracked, stained yellow at the corners. I rub my eyes, hoping this is just another dream, but the footsteps approaching outside my bedroom door prove it's anything but. They march in time like soldiers, the sound reminding me of the old nursery rhyme, the Grand Old Duke of York. Mum would sing it to me every night when she wasn't busy filling her veins with whatever poison she could find. I swallow hard as they get closer, the room suddenly feeling a lot darker than before.

"Where's the boy?" a voice demands from behind the door.

I grab onto my duvet, flinging it over my head in hopes they'll not see me when they eventually force their way in. The fabric is so thin that the chill from the window makes its way through. I want to scream for Mum, but the words won't escape my throat. I pray any second now that she'll storm in, that she'll make everything right. But deep down, I know it's stupid. She isn't that kind of mother. She never has been.

"He's in there." Her voice is flat as she gives up my location, killing any hope that she's going to force them out of our flat.

"The price still good?" one of the men asks, their voice rough. I don't hear her respond, my heartbeat too loud in my ears. It's soon interrupted by the sound of the doorknob twisting and a slight creak of the floorboard. I throw myself back down on the bed, clutching my pillow as I squeeze my eyes shut so tight I think they might pop. If I'm asleep, they'll leave me alone. They'll go away. Their footsteps fill the silence. One. Two. Three. I count three of them.

I can smell the cigarettes as one of them gets closer, his breathing sharp and his gloves cold against my skin as he lifts me from the bed. Why isn't she stopping him? Why isn't she screaming for help or fighting him? I can't stop the thoughts in my head. My lids slowly open, just enough to see the three men, all wearing masks and big, thick, black gloves. One of them towers above me, and before I can react, I'm in his arms.

"Let go of me!" I scream so loud it floods into my ears, and I start kicking. I thrash so hard against the man, I think he's going to drop me. I pray that he does so I can try to make a run for it, but his grip gets tighter around me—so hard I know it's going to bruise, but I don't care.

"Steady on now, boy." His voice is cold. He doesn't even flinch as my fist connects with his jaw; he just lets out a rough, bellowing laugh.

"This one's a wild one. Might be worth keeping." The other moves to his side, his hand ruffling my hair as the man throws me over his shoulders. He clutches hard against the back of my thighs as he holds me, blood rushing to my head as I dangle.

My eyes flick to my mum. She stands there, useless as ever, her hair a mess, wearing a jumper too big it almost drowns her. She's staring at me, her gaze unmoving, but there's a film over her eyes. One she always has after she's smoked that stuff that smells weird.

"Mummy, please!" I call out, arm stretched out, hoping she'll reach for it. "I promise, Mummy, I promise I'll be good!" My throat hurts from screaming. Is this my punishment? For misbehaving? For not cleaning the house or stealing enough food?

She flinches, almost like the sound of my words hurt her. Her face crumples and I think she's going to cry, but she doesn't.

"I'm so sorry." I barely hear her voice. It's nothing more than a whisper before she turns her back on me, facing one of the tall men.

"Fifty'll do?" His voice is casual, his fingers flicking through the notes as he counts them.

"I was told a hundred," she spits at him, her voice venomous and loud.

I try one last time, hoping and praying my sobs will snap something into her, that she'll realise she's made a mistake. "Mum—please don't do this! I'll do better; I'll be good!"

"Shut him up, will ya?" the man hisses, his hand moving to his mask as he tears it from his face, his hair wet with sweat.

"It'll do, just give me the cash and get him out of here." Mum turns to him, her palm extended. I watch as he shoves the notes into her hand, and she clutches it hard to her chest.

My hands ball into fists as betrayal floods my chest, and I hammer them against the man's back as he begins to carry me out of the door and into the darkness.

Chapter Three

Ace