Fallen Memories: Book Two

Fallen Memories - [12]

Fallen Memories - 12

    Rocky terrain snagged at my feet as the men dragged me away from the house. My head spun in many different directions as I tried to make sense of what was going on. Moments before the invasion, I’d been inside a dream with Adam, confronting him. So far, I couldn’t pick his voice out from among the group of men surrounding me. By the difference in voices, I counted at least six voices. All men. One of those voices had my heart nearly paralyzed in my chest with confusion and betrayal.

    Nice to see you again, princess. Tremors racked my body. One of the six men was carrying me, holding me bridal style against a smooth, muscular chest. A finger traced the curve of my neck, stroking up along my ear. Inside the burlap sack thrown over my head, I shut my eyes and endured another round of shivers that cut bone deep. The touch was all wrong. But the voice that rumbled above my head was his.

    “What are you doing,” I choked, feeling an army of tears march up the back of my throat. I tried to place logic down on the table. A joke. A sick, twisted joke. Inner voices in my mind told me I was crazy to think that this was a joke.

    “Hold still and keep quiet!” Adam’s voice reached my ears now. I hadn’t heard him earlier when I’d attempted to count the voices. That made seven men. Seven men, to one girl.

    “We all know you’re capable of getting me where you want me, so why put on the charade?” I shouted at where I thought he was. The sound of a door opening broke the silence. I was tossed inside a trunk. Through the sack, I could see large figures moving around. One leaned over and bound my hands and feet.

    Adam’s response never came. The trunk was slammed shut. Five heartbeats later, the car lurched into motion. Its tires popped over the gravel on the drive, before rolling onto the smooth terrain of the main road. The van swayed as the driver took a turn, causing me to slide over the ridges of the trunk flooring. My hands and feet were bound by a thick coil of rope, so I channeled all of my energy toward my body’s core in an attempt to roll onto my stomach. Once I was on my stomach, I felt I had better control of my body’s actions.

    Skin burning against the fibers of the rope, I pulled my knees up against my stomach and used my hands to push me into a sitting position. Sitting up on my shins, I lifted my tied hands and wrestled the sack off. Sucking in a gasp of air, I flung the sack aside and quickly scanned my surroundings. Gray walls. A gray floor. Two bench seats on either side. Twisting, I caught sight of a small, rectangular window stretched across the far wall.

    Scratched glass blurred the figures on the other side, but I could just barely make out their outlines. Pathetically, I dropped to my hands and knees, half-crawling, half-dragging myself toward the window. It was directly above my head now. I sat up, bracing my hands against the wall for support as the van took another turn. I kept track of them in my head. So far, we’d made one left turn and one right turn. Considering I’d never been to Maine, I didn’t know its layout very well, but I’d have to make do with sense of direction and common sense.

    From what I could hear through the van’s outer walls, we were heading away from the coast. The sound of the waves smashing against the shore faded more and more the further we drove. Light struggled through the dingy surface of the window, and despite its dimness, I feared they would see me lingering on the other side. I ducked to the left, sinking into a sitting position. With my back against the walls, I rested my hands on top of my knees, pressing them to my chest.

    Bowing my head, I banged it against my fists. Adam’s words, like a hammer, drove nails of doubt into my mind. I hadn’t mistaken Colton’s voice, I knew that much. I even believed he had carried me out to the van. Why? None of it made sense. Starting with Adam; how in God’s name had he come up with something truthful was beyond anything I could fathom.