We Told Six Lies(24)

“Yeah, yeah. You start Monday. Bring your social security card and driver’s license.”

I rushed out before Chad could change his mind, and found you leaning against the back of your car. My heart was pounding, and my blood was pumping, and I wanted you, right there, right then, pushed back on the rusted steel, the sun shining a spotlight on our bodies.

You curled your finger, beckoning me closer, that one motion my undoing.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as I wrapped my arms around your waist and spun you in a circle.

“Stop,” I said.

“I shouldn’t have—”

I kissed you.

I kissed you, and you held me tighter than you ever had.

Almost as if you were afraid to lose me.

Imagine that—

Molly Bates, afraid.





MOLLY


When Molly awoke the second time, her head was clear.

He’d drugged her again, but she’d expected it. And so when her eyes fluttered open, she’d stared at the ceiling and allowed her mind time to sharpen. She knew he was outside the door, could feel the shadow of him pacing back and forth like an animal awaiting its meal.

“I hear you,” she said, emboldened.

The shuffling of his feet stopped.

“I don’t know who you are,” she said. “I didn’t see your face.”

She sat up, and though her body buzzed with terror, she plucked each word carefully. Reminded herself that fear was the enemy. People lowered their guard in the face of confidence.

If he was hiding his appearance, Molly reasoned, then he wasn’t certain if he would murder her. If he had planned to kill her, he wouldn’t care whether she could identify him.

Her eyes darted to where the vase once stood. The flowers hadn’t been replaced. He’d be upset about that because the flowers were a gift. That much was clear.

The guy behind the door moved. Closer or farther away, she wasn’t sure. She had to say something else before he left. Because the only thing more petrifying than being locked in this room was being left alone in it. With him here, she could strategize. With him here, she needn’t worry what he was doing, or planning, while alone.

Molly would not be a passive victim. If this was a game, and everything was, then she had to make her next move swiftly. Her first had been a mistake, but she didn’t fault herself for acting as anyone would in the same situation.

The guy moved again.

He was walking away!

“Wait,” she called out.

He stopped.

“Could I…? Could I have a glass of water? I’m so thirsty.” She bit her lip and then added, “I won’t break the glass. I promise.”

He left quickly, and Molly pulled her legs over the side of the bed and shook with anxiety. Her mind went to him. Not the person walking up a flight of stairs, but the person she left behind. She touched a hand to her lips and clenched her eyes shut. If he were here, he’d tear down that door with his bare hands. He’d dismember this person who thought he could touch his girl.

But she’d left her wolf behind, hadn’t she? And so she had to become a wolf herself. Or rather, a fox.

Cobain, she thought.

Her heart of stone cracked and bled when she pictured his face. His hands. The way he tilted his head and looked at her with narrowed eyes. Eyes that opened her rib cage and exposed what lay inside.

Cobain.

She dashed to the bathroom, relieved herself, and stood before the sink. The bonds on her wrists prevented her from reaching the window, but she wasn’t concerned about that. Not yet.

Molly turned on the water and splashed it on her face. It was shockingly cold, but good. It reminded her that some things never changed, regardless of where you were. Sometimes, when things got really bad at home, she’d play a game—take a situation and make it worse in her mind so her present situation paled in comparison.

She did that now. Asked herself, What if I didn’t even have a toilet? What if I didn’t have a bed? A window? Water?

Water.

She already had water.

Idiot! She’d been stupid. She should have asked for something to eat instead. Given him a reason to be kind to her. Her request had been a test, of course. If he obliged, she’d know not all was lost. It would connect the two of them, however subtly.

Another lesson from her father.

Ask for things. Small at first, and then larger. Return the favor. This, and face time, are what connect humans more than anything else.

She shook her head, harder and harder, tears stinging her eyes. Even here, even in this situation, her daddy could still make her cry.

She wet her hands in the sink and scrubbed her face. Cleaned around her eyes, her nose, her ears. She released her hair from its rubber band and ran her hands through it, working out the tangles until it fell uninterrupted down her shoulders like sheets of virgin sand.

A virgin.

Could that be the part she played?

Or perhaps the vixen.

Or the playful free spirit.

There was a solution here, and it came in the form of a character. Who would she become to save her own life?

Molly heard him coming and ran from the bathroom. She leaped onto the bed and hugged her legs to her chest. Then she reminded herself to not take the appearance of a victim and uncurled her legs and hung them off the side of the bed. No, too casual. She folded them beneath herself with only a moment to spare.