28. Angel

My jaw hurts around the silicon bit holding my mouth open. My wrists are aching from where I have slow and steady been tugging the duct tape loose. A police siren wails down on the street. A dog is barking somewhere in the building.

This floor isn't as loud as mine. I just need to get out of the tape. One step at a time. Just like everything else I have had to do. One step at a time. I listen for the sound of the front door open as I wiggle my hands back and forth. I can feel the skin on my wrists going raw. Duct tape is strong but not invincible. If I can get my hands free, getting out of the cage shouldn't be too hard. It is held with a simple latch on the outside. Something complex enough to keep a dog in, but easy enough for someone with thin fingers to wiggle loose. But my fingers won't fit unless I get the tape off.

If I can get to my apartment, grab the cash I have stored away, I can make a run for it. I don't know if I will leave the city. I can buy a new name. Messiah won't be able to find me if I have a new identity. But those cost a lot. And it takes time for it to be done. I would just need to lay low.

Slow down, I think to myself. One step at a time.

I can feel where his come has dried on my face. It itches, but I don't even want to scratch at it. There is a hard chunk in my hair that keeps brushing the side of my neck. Disgusting, fucking bastard. I shouldn't have given him a second thought. I shouldn't have stayed awake for three nights debating with myself whether or not he was even worth trying to get to know. I laugh at myself. Yeah, no fucking chance now. He was cute. He had been polite – to a degree. I should have known to leave him alone when he fucking came in my panties. But the money was good. I needed it. And dancing for him – it made my braver. I had avoided dancing for months because I couldn't stand the idea of anyone looking at me that way. But those fuckwads – the ones I cut the dicks off of – they didn't get to control my life forever. Keeping myself from trying – from being brave – it was only letting them win. And I was tired of everyone else winning. The idea that I almost let someone in again doesn't hurt as much as the idea that I liked him and he still betrayed me.

The tape around my wrist is starting to thin out. I press it against the bars of the cage to try and stretch it enough to break. Just when I think I may get it, I hear the front door open. I snatch my hands back in and crumple the loose tape between my palms.

"Angel," he calls.

Does the fucker expect me to answer?

The sound of his heavy boots move through the apartment and he appears in the bedroom door. He looks me over, his eyes taking note of the cage to see if I did anything to compromise it. When he appears satisfied that I am still firmly in place, he turns and walks away.

One step at a time.