Page 94 of Fake Dark Vows
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Carter,” I blurt out, “but is Rose there?”
“Rose?” He blinks like he doesn’t understand the question. “Mr. Weiss?”
“Yes. Rose. She came to see you earlier. Is she still here?”
“I haven’t seen her since she went away with Jess. Is there something wrong? What’s happened?—”
I back away from the door. I feel like I’m sleepwalking through water that’s rising, rising, making it difficult to keep moving, and the cab driver is yelling at me, “Do you still want a ride back?” as I stumble along the sidewalk.
“Yes, I’m coming back.” That’s what she said when she left my apartment, and she meant it.
CHAPTER 30
Rose
I’m lying on something hard. Cold. Damp.
I try pushing myself to a sitting position, and my brain cells spin like cotton candy, making me retch. I’m numb with cold, and the sensation is so unnatural that I wrap my arms around myself and curl up into a ball, knees dragged against my chest, chin resting on my knees.
Shivers wrack my body. My breathing is shallow.
Think, Rose. Think.
First question: Where am I?
Second question: How did I get here?
I don’t have the answers to either question, but I do know that this is my punishment for not persuading Brandon to pull out of the deal.
Tears trickle down my face, the chill as they soak up the cool air making me shiver uncontrollably.
Wherever I am, the floor is metal. There are no lights, the darkness so dense that I can barely distinguish my fingers in front of my face, and the silence seems to roar in my ears: Get out. Get out. Get out!
A sound penetrates the panic whirling around inside me. So faint, I might’ve imagined it. I listen, concentrating, my heartbeat skipping erratically, until… There it is again.
A whimper.
An animal?
“Hello?” I whisper, my voice barely reaching my own ears.
Another whimper, the faintest sound of movement.
“Hello?” I try again. “Is there someone else in here?”
A scratching sound follows, and my stomach lurches. Is it an animal? It can’t be a wild animal because it would’ve sensed my weakness and attacked by now. Instinct is telling me that it needs my help, that it might be more afraid of me than I am of it, like my dad always said about spiders when I was a little girl.
Trying to ignore the chill, I force myself to unfurl and crawl towards the sound on all fours, feeling my way across the bumpy floor. My left knee lands on something hard and lumpy, and I crumple momentarily, pain shooting through my knee. A rivet? A screw?
I keep moving. Slowly. Stopping sporadically to listen out for the sound.
It’s only when I’m a bit closer that I hear the whisper. “Over here.”
I turn to my left, follow the sound, testing the floor in front of me with trembling fingers before shuffling my knees forward.
Then I touch something. It’s cold and wet, and slips through my fingers, and revulsion shudders through me, causing me to back off. Panting, I force myself to get a grip and try again. This time, I spread both hands and pat the air trying to locate whatever it was I touched before.
I find it. It’s like wearing a blindfold and playing a game of ‘What can you feel’? Only now I realize that it’s hair. I trace the length of it with my fingers until I reach the head, the face, the dangly earrings in the person’s earlobes. A faint scent of perfume mixed with mold.