Chapter Six SCARLETT

Chapter Six

S CARLETT

Then

A day or two later in the basement

When I woke up, I blinked into the darkness. Confusion gave way to fear as I realized I was on a thin mattress in a small room. I was naked. My bracelet and necklace were gone. I sat up too quickly and my head spun. I toppled back, willing my stomach to quiet and the tightness behind my eyes to ease.

After several beats, my body steadied and calmed. My fingers ran over the coarse mattress fabric. No sheets. No blankets.

Slowly, I tried to sit a second time. I couldn’t see anything in the room and was forced to feel my way to the edges of the mattress and then to a cool brick wall. I trailed fingers over the wall’s rough, porous surface until they ran into the next corner. Maybe five feet. The next corner was ten feet away. A smooth metal door was on the third wall, and the fourth was blank.

A light clicked on under the door. Footsteps mingled with rattling keys. I scrambled to the mattress and pressed my back to the wall. A lock twisted, and the door opened. Light flooded, and I winced until my eyes adjusted.

Standing at the threshold was the girl from the concert. Della. She was wearing a yellow dress, and her feet were bare. She was holding a length of rope. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on, Della?”

She stepped into the room. “I’m sorry for yesterday and what’s coming.”

Fear spread, closing my throat. “What’s coming?”

“You’ll survive. Remember that.”

Dread tremored through my body. “Let me go,” I begged. “I won’t tell anyone. I want to go home. I want to see my mom.”

“I can’t.” She uncoiled the rope.

“Take me home! Please, take me home!”

The man from the van—Tanner, the flirting man with beautiful blue eyes from the construction site—stepped over the threshold. I looked directly at him. He had high cheekbones, thick wavy hair, and striking blue eyes. But there was nothing beautiful about him now. His smile was cold, his gaze piercing. Hands flexed slowly at his sides.

“Lay down,” Della said. “It’ll be easier if you don’t fight.”

Later, I would learn that the more I fought, the more it hurt. I would learn that if I lay still, he’d finish faster. Or if I smiled, he didn’t hit me. But I didn’t know any of those lessons. When I looked over at Della, she was crying.