My step-dad gave me a push from behind. I stumbled—he’d insisted I put on heels and I wasn’t used to walking in them.
I think the room was supposed to be a dressing room. A cheap bathroom mirror hung crooked on the wall. Outfits on hangers dangled from a washing line: lingerie and tiny skirts and tops, some of them latex and leather. The Blood Spiders must offer strippers or hookers here, when they weren’t auctioning women.
I spun and grabbed my step dad’s arm just as he turned to leave. “Please!” I begged. “Don’t do this!”
Again, I saw that momentary softening. He knew this was wrong. But then he looked at the floor. “It’ll be okay,” he muttered. “Pretty thing like you, you’ll do okay.”
I gaped at him. Did he really believe that? Did he really think any guy who’d buy his woman would treat me well? When he looked up and met my eyes again, I knew he was trying to convince himself as much as me. “Please!” I begged again.
He shook his head and pulled out of my grasp. “Don’t have a choice,” he told me gruffly, and pulled the door closed behind him.
Shit! I started to panic-breathe. This is really going to happen. In five minutes, if I don’t get out of here.
I looked around: no windows. I opened the door a crack and peeked out at the hallway. To my left, it ended in a set of double doors that I guessed led to the main room. I could hear thumping rock music and the yelling of excited men. I can’t let them take me in there. If I did, my fate was sealed.
I looked the other way, towards the back door. My heart sank: a biker was leaning against it, standing guard. Shit!
The only other door was directly across the hall. A cheap plastic sign read Office. That was my only chance. Maybe there’d be a window I could crawl through.
The biker standing guard lit a cigarette, then glanced up at the smoke detector in the hallway and cursed. For a glorious moment, I thought he was going to step outside to smoke. But he just inhaled, opened the door a little and blew the smoke outside, then turned back to the hallway. I felt sick with tension. I’d have to run across when he next turned away. I’d have seconds.
He lazily inhaled. My hand tightened on the doorknob….
He turned. I dashed across the hallway and through the door to the office. I stood there with my back against the door for a second, shaking...but there were no footsteps in the hallway. He hadn’t seen me.
I looked around. The lights were off but enough light came from the crack under the door for me to make out a desk, a chair and some bookshelves. No window.
I wanted to cry. Please? Just a little luck?#p#分页标题#e#
I started to search the room for anything I could use. I was shaking, close to hysterical—
A phone. An old-fashioned corded one, the plastic cracked, the handset covered in peeling stickers. I grabbed it and held it to my ear, praying. Yes! There was a dial tone. I pushed the buttons for 911.
The noise from the main room suddenly rose in volume as someone opened the double doors. Shit!
The call connected. “911 Emergency.” A woman’s voice, calm and reassuring.
“Please help me! I’m in a bar outside Teston—”
My voice trailed off as I realized I was talking to a recording. “...and an operator will answer your call as soon as one becomes available.”
No! I could hear voices in the hallway: the Blood Spiders President—Hay—and my step-dad. I crouched down behind the desk, but that would only buy me a few seconds at best. Come on! But the recorded 911 message just kept looping and looping. I hung up and stared at the phone’s keypad in desperation. Who else could I call?!
The shamrock necklace swung forward and brushed my wrist.
It’s been twelve years. He won’t be there. He might be in jail or dead or—
I heard my step-dad open the door to the dressing room. “Annabelle?” he asked in puzzlement.
My chest went tight. I prayed...and dialed the number I’d memorized.
“Fuck!” said Hay from the hallway. I heard him stomp towards the guard at the back door. “You let her out to take a piss or something?”
The line connected and the phone at the other end started to ring.
“No!” It sounded like the guard was choking. “No one came outta there!”
The phone rang and rang. Come on. COME ON!
The door to the office swung open and I closed my eyes, trying to disappear. I heard Hay curse and his footsteps retreated: he hadn’t seen me. But there were only so many places I could have gone. When they searched again….
The call was answered and my heart leapt...but it was a voice I didn’t recognize. Another recording. “You’ve reached Hell’s Princes,” rasped the man. “Leave a fucking message.”