Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(127)

No… No, I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t be here!

“No,” the woman said. “You can’t leave her here! What in the hell am I supposed to do with her? Why doesn’t she speak? Is there something wrong with her?”

“Aw, come on, Dori.” The short one groaned, releasing my arm.

My body slouched to the ground, leaving me leaning at an awkward angle. The tall one hadn’t let me go, his fingers still curled around my bicep, his nails digging sharply into my skin.

“There’s shit going down out there, and we need to get back to it or Liv’s going to have a fit if that gate isn’t back up. Cut us some slack, would ya?”

The woman sighed, an angry, irritated sigh. “Fine,” she snapped, “but only until I speak to E. Put her in one of the back rooms, and lock her up until I can find someone who’s willing to clean her.”

Gripping the armrests on her wheelchair, she leaned forward as she looked me over. “You try anything,” she hissed viciously, “anything at all, and I will cut you. You got that?” Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared at me. “Why can’t we leave the crazy ones in the wild?” she muttered. “They don’t belong with us.”

I wanted to laugh at her, to tell her how stupid she was, thinking that I was the crazy one. They were the crazy ones. Living out in the open like this, playing with biters, being noisy and laughing as if there was still something to laugh about in this world.

“I don’t like this,” she continued. “I’ll never get her stench out of the sheets. I’ll have to burn them.” Her voice turned shrill. “And sheets are expensive!”

“Sure, sure,” the short one said as he reached for my arm again, and it took everything in me to allow him to touch me, to not lash out, to not kick and scream and fight my way free of this place.

I wanted to go back to my cave. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want their hands on me. I didn’t want to hear their noisy voices. See their stares. Their anger. Their pity. I didn’t want any of it. A hot tear slipped free from the corner of my eye as my panic began to rise.

“I want to go home,” I whispered, my throat dry and scratchy, my own voice sounding foreign to my ears.

The woman glanced sharply at me, a flash of sympathy crossing her features. “Don’t we all, darlin’?” she replied, easily shrugging away her emotion. “You’re better here with us.”

I could read her expression—the slight pinching of her nose, the slump of her shoulders—and knew she didn’t believe her own words.

“Home is where you stay,” she continued. “And this is where you’ll stay now. It’s safe here. You have nothing to fear from me.”

A snarl slipped past my lips, the only sound I could manage to make in the face of her lie. Her cheeks flushed hotly as she realized I could see straight through her, see her for what she really was. A liar. And a bad one at that.

Glancing up at the men, she nodded and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. With a grunt, they began dragging me across the room, my dirty sneakers scuffing across the carpet, lifting the edge of a rug. All eyes were on me, the room quiet save for the sound of my feet snagging on the uneven floorboards and bits of carpet strewn about.

As I was taken down a dark hallway, the air grew considerably warmer, the smells rising in their intensity. Noises came from behind closed doors all around me, familiar noises, groans and moans and cries, not of pain, but of pleasure. I remembered pleasure; even when I didn’t want to remember it, I did. I remembered his handsome young face, the feel of his warm hands, the way his soft mouth would cover mine. I could hear myself crying out, wanting more of him…

“Jesus, she stinks.” A naked woman pressed herself against the wall, wrinkling her nose in disgust as I was dragged past her.

“Don’t I f*cking know it!” the tall one replied, laughing. “But * is *.”

“You’re going to hit this?” the short one asked, sounding horrified. “Man, she probably has a hundred f*cking diseases.”

“I’ll hit a hole in the wall,” the tall one said. “A knot in a tree, a rip in the mattress, makes no difference to me. Here we are, home sweet home.”

We stopped in front of a door, and the short one released me to open it. Gripping me tighter, the tall one pulled me inside. It was dark except for one window that allowed the sunlight in, highlighting the sparse furnishings—a small bed, a dresser, and a chair.

Shoving me forward, the tall one released me, and I fell to the floor in a heap.

“I’ll be back once you’re cleaned up,” he said, and I lifted my head to look at him. Sneering down at me, he touched his cheek where I’d hit him. “You owe me for this, and this.” He held up his arm, showing me a bloody bite mark.

The men left, slamming the door shut behind them. A lock clicked into place, the sharp sound echoing loudly through the nearly empty space, sucking all the air out of the room and making it hard for me to breathe. The walls seemed to grow nearer, closing in on me as my heart beat painfully in my chest.

“I want to go home,” I whispered to no one.

Only I knew that I was no longer talking about my cave. I was talking about my home made of white brick, the one with two bedrooms, and yellow rosebushes that lined the driveway. My home with the swing set in the backyard. With the pantry and a pretty bathroom, and a TV that I used to watch when I sat on my comfy peach sofa, with the three cream cushions on it. I missed that home. I missed that life.