Silo

Chapter 14

My room was only a few doors down, easily within hearing distance of the supply room. I stopped mere inches from the door, the blood freezing in my veins. I'd shut that door, had purposely closed it behind me when we went topside, sealing her in. There was no lock, but the door was made of steel and as heavy as hell. I doubted she could've budged it without some help.  

Inside. Whatever ... whoever was taking our stuff was coming from inside.  

It made perfect sense. Shit, none of this had happened before she arrived. But how and why? What plausible reason could that girl have for screwing with us? For screwing with me?  

I silently propped my rifle against the wall and pulled the blade from the waistband of my jeans. My room was small; if I fired a shot in there, in the dark, I had as much of a chance of hitting her as I did the intruder. Steeling my nerves, I took one step into the room, melded myself with the wall, and waited for my eyes, my ears, my instincts to tell me which way to lunge.  

It took an excruciatingly long, few seconds for me to register the complete and utter silence. Scanning the room, I saw no sign of the girl. Her usual corner was empty, the blanket she used to keep herself warm also missing. I stepped further into the room and did a full three-sixty, keeping my blade up and my fist pulled back. That's when I heard it - the soft shifting beneath the stack of dirty clothes in the corner that gave her away.  

I lowered my weapon and crouched down, slowly began peeling the layers off until I saw her small arm, trembling and covered with angry, red welts.  

Her eyes flashed open and she flew at me, slapping at whatever part of my body she could reach. I did the only thing I could. I grabbed onto her wrists and yanked her into my chest, not caring what part of her bruised body I was holding onto or how many claw marks she'd leave on chest. She needed to get herself under control, and if she couldn't do it herself, then I'd do it for her.  

"It's okay; it's just me," I soothed, trying my best to get her to calm down, to stop struggling against my hold, but she wouldn't let up. She got in one good, swift kick to my inner thigh before I lost my patience. 

"Enough!" I screamed, and she stilled instantly, the sound of my voice breaking through the terror that consumed her. Her arms flew up to shield her face, and I realized she still had no idea it was me.  

"Look at me," I said, giving her a good shake when she didn't respond." Look. At. Me!" 

She lifted her eyes to meet mine, and I gasped. Her hair looked wet, blood tricking down the side of her face. I quickly scanned the rest of her body, my eyes flashing to the red welts I'd seen as I uncovered her ... bruises that weren't there an hour ago.  

"Holy crap." Unable to control myself, I shoved my arms beneath her tiny body and lifted her up. A two-inch cut at her hairline becoming visible. Blood trailed down the side of her face in small, crisscrossing streams and pooled at her neckline. I stumbled over something, nearly dropping her as I made my way to the mattress and set her down, pried her hands away from her eyes so she could see my face.  

"It's Jake," I said, searching for the words to make her trust me, to make her open her eyes again and realize that I would never hurt her. "They're gone. It's just me." 

Not knowing what else to do, I wrapped my arms around her, felt the warmth of her blood seeping though my shirt. She pushed back, wrenched herself from my grip, and tried to stand. Her legs buckled, sending her tumbling back into my chest.  

My fingertips hovered over her skin, her beautiful face marred with the marks of someone who felt entitled to her, someone who'd come in here and done this to prove a point. Bile rose into my throat as I stripped off my shirt, pressed it against the gash to slow the bleeding. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to hold her tightly against me and promise that she was safe now, that nobody would hurt her again. But I couldn't. Not anymore. 

Slowly she opened her eyes and stared at me. "I'm not going to hurt you," I said, but I am going to kill whoever did this to you, I silently added to myself.  

"Can you tell me who did this to you?" I asked. I needed this girl to talk, not only for her own safety but for Evan's and Keith's as well. 

She shook her head and shoved me away, her eyes trailing to the floor by my bed. I eased her back down to the floor, and stood up. There was a wallet by my mattress, one I hadn't seen before. I picked it up, my hands trembling with anger as I opened it. There was no need to go hunting for an ID. I knew instantly whose wallet this was. There was a picture on the inside of the wallet, the thing piece of plastic covering it cracked. It was my sister and Tyler at Homecoming. I stared at the picture for a minute, remembering that night - the music, the chintzy decorations, and the party afterwards.  

Was there nothing those assholes hadn't taken? Did they loot every dead body on that bus? Were they so cruel that they couldn't even leave Tyler with this one thing - a picture of the girl he loved. A picture of my sister Katie? 

Anger, raw and out of control, coursed through my system. I turned and slammed my hand into the wall, didn't care that I probably broken my hand, didn't even feel the pain. The only thing I registered was pure, unadulterated rage.