Betting with the Bride

Chapter Eighteen

Ivory

Every inch of my body ached, screaming out in pain, begging for relief. Tight arms are wound around my waist lazily. A small glimmer of light seeps in through the parted curtains, allowing me to distinguish my surroundings. In his sleep, he seems peaceful, almost harmless, but I know better. With slow, steady movements, I wiggle out of his grip. After I am out of the bed without awaking the beast, I begin to search for my clothes. My eyes are clouded with forlorn tears as I sneak out of the room, careful not to disturb him. Every step causes an eruption of pain, but there's no use in turning back now. My body trembles with silent sobs as I bolt out of the prison without another look back.

No signs of a familiar landmark are seen on my route away from the dungeon. Lacking any clue of where I am or help for that matter, I continue to trudge forward. Most likely, my hair is strewn about wildly, and my clothes are wrinkled and tattered. Accompanied by tears, a few bruises the shade of purple decorate my skin. Looking for a source of aid, I search the small city. Eventually, I wander upon a vacant gas station. Not caring about my appearance, I waltz into the gas station with every ounce of pride I have left. The employee behind the counter is the only other person in the store. As soon as I have her attention, I speak up. "Do you have a telephone here?" I ask. Even though my voice quakes from weakness, my confidence exclaims I have the highest power there is.

The woman is a plump, short lady, about in her late thirties. Dusty, brown hair sweeps her shoulders. A crimson apron is tied around her sunny shirt. Genuine compassion overcomes the woman's features, and with a tender tone, she answers, "Right over there ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you?" Her eyebrows furrow, and it's obvious I look like I was hit by a train... multiple times.

I shake my head, hiding the frown I make when a sharp pain shoots through my joints. With a subtle limp, I make my way over to the telephone near the back of the store. I grasp the phone in my right hand, and my left index finger hovers over the buttons. Muttering a curse, I call out my problem to the lady, "By chance, do you know Hunter Richardson's number?" I can sense the widening of her eyes.

My back is still facing her when she rambles off his digits after a few minutes. She must have felt the inquisitive expression that I had because she quickly explains, "The Internet has everything." I chuckle softly at her resourcefulness before returning to the phone.

"Please pick up. Please pick up," I mumble under my breath as the rings dash by. Hunter can help. He will know where I am. He'll come get me. I'll be out of this hell hole. Away from the monster.

Just as I'm about to hang up the receiver in defeat, a deep voice saves my falling hope, "Hunter Richardson."

"Hey," I squeak. My voice that was so strong in my head cracks.

"Ivory! Oh my god! You're alright! You had me so worried. Don't you ever do that again," his tone grows hard and stern. I can hear the stress in his words as clear as crystal. He's angry... with me.

Ashamed, I hang my head. "I'm sorry. I was__was just mad," is the only words I can force out.

Irritated, ill-tempered Hunter is swiftly replaced by sympathetic, soft Hunter. "Ivory, it's okay. I'm worried about you. Where are you?"

"I'm fine. Hold on," I tell him before covering the mouth piece. "Miss, where am I?"

Without hesitation, she informs me of my location, "Reservoir Lane at City gas station."

I relay her response into the phone, and reassure Hunter that I am fine before hanging up. With a grateful heart, I return to the counter and endlessly thank the cashier. Humbly, she brushes my 'thank you's aside. Ushering me to the back room, she assists me yet again. "Let me help you with those nasty bruises," she says as she pulls out a case of makeup. Brushing some concealer over the marks, she is cautious with the amount of force she is using.