Stay(99)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT





I ROLLED OVER on the cot, trying to get comfortable. I was exhausted but unable to sleep. Images of Phoebe’s lifeless eyes haunted me. Several times I woke from the dark hands of a nightmare clutching at my heart expecting to see her. The pain hit all over again when the realization crashed down on me. She was gone.

Making love to Jackson was empowering, making me feel like me again, though it only lasted a few short minutes. But the confidence it had given quickly work off. I had a dream of being shipped to Europe in a coffin. Phoebe’s dead body had been dumped on top of me to cover up the fact that a very alive person was inside the polished wooden box. I woke up with cheeks wet from crying.

It took over an hour to calm down. Once I did, I shot up in bed, worried about the stains on the quilt. Jackson did the laundry, but what if Lily or Rochelle noticed before he got the chance? They would know we had sex and Jackson would get beaten … or worse.

I tossed and turned until the sun started to creep up over the horizon. The golden light muted my fears, and I was able to drift into a light sleep, not waking until the basement door slammed shut. Sobs resonated off the dry walled staircase. I sat up and twisted around to see Lily emerge from the stairwell. She had her face in her hands, mopping away mascara streaked tears.

“Jackson told me,” she cried. Her red eyes flicked to Phoebe’s bed. “She’s really dead?” Her voice was strained.

“Yes,” I said and felt my own eyes prickle with tears. I blinked them away.

“You were with her, right? She didn’t die alone?”

“I was there until the end,” I said, wanting to comfort Lily. I swung my legs over the side of the cot and patted the mattress next to me. Lily sank down and started crying. I put my arms around her and smoothed her hair, which was stiff with hairspray.

“Was it peaceful?”

“Yes,” I soothed. The image of Phoebe violently convulsing on the floor while blood oozed from her mouth and nose flashed through my brain. The sound of her face smacking against the floor caused a shudder to ripple through me. “In her sleep.” My jaw trembled, and I tried to block out the heartbreaking grief.

I failed. I hugged Lily and cried with her. I thought of Phoebe and wished I had a good, lighthearted memory of her to share, but I didn’t. All I had was the comfort she had given me, the times when she had tended to my wounds after getting beaten by Zane and Nate, and the hope she instilled in me from the very beginning. I had no comforting words. I couldn’t reflect on the good life Phoebe lived. I couldn’t take consolation in knowing that each day was filled with happiness. She was living in hell on earth, and I could only hope that heaven was real and that was where she was.#p#分页标题#e#

And now she was gone without a trace. Even if her body was recovered from the woods, would anyone know who she was? She was illegally smuggled into the country. She had no last name, no passport, and no records of even existing.

“You guys okay?” Rochelle’s voice came from across the room. I hadn’t even heard her come down the stairs.

“No,” Lily cried. Suddenly, she sprang up. “You should have gotten the pills! You didn’t even try! You were too worried about upsetting Zane. And now she’s dead. Dead, Rochelle! And never coming back!” Lily’s hands balled into fists, and her arms shook. “I hate this place. I hate it! I want to leave.” Her hands flew to her head, her fingers scrunching her hair, and she broke down in hysterical sobs.

“Don’t say that!” Rochelle snapped. “It’s not true.”

“Yes, it is! Phoebe was right. This place is hell!”

I got up and put an arm around Lily. “She’s right,” I agreed.

“Stop it!” Rochelle yelled. “Both of you. Stop it!”

“Why should we?” I countered. “This place is hell, and you can’t deny it. If there was a way out, I’d be the first one leaving!” I spat.

“And you will be,” Zane’s smooth voice floated down the stairs.

We all paused, waiting for him to reach the bottom. Dressed in dark washed jeans, black leather boots, and a long sleeved gray shirt under a motorcycle jacket, Zane reminded me of a raven. Sunlight gleaming off shiny black feathers, swooping down on his prey with gossamer wings, luring in victims with his grace and beauty, then razor sharp talons pierced through even the toughest of flesh, digging deep until they grasped the soul. By the time his true nature was found out, it was too late.

“Just three short months, and you’ll be out of here.”