Did Rebecca plant the ticket there so I would find it?
This was another question that was bothering her, one which she couldn’t seem to figure a reason for. When first starting the search Tina had had a strong feeling that it was a fruitless endeavor because Rebecca would never leave the ticket where she could find it. A part of her had even tried to convince her against the search all together because it would be a waste of time. The other part had needed to try it, though, just in case it wasn’t. Now it seemed incredibly doubtful that Rebecca would have left the prom ticket lying around because she would have known Tina would search for it. Sure, the two still didn’t know each other all that well, but the experiences learned from living together gave them enough insight to predict the others actions with a high degree of accuracy.
Why leave it?
Whatever the reason Tina knew it wasn’t going to be so she could simply stumble upon the photographs and come to the realization that she had been conceived out of wedlock. No. As horrible as such a situation might have been for Rebecca and her family, she was sure Rebecca understood that it wouldn’t faze Tina. Another reason was behind it, and whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. To the outside world Rebecca could portray herself as a poor tragic woman who was being abused by her newfound daughter, one who she just wanted to be loved by, but with Tina she knew she couldn’t pull this off and for the most part didn’t even try. Tina knew the truth and knew the goal of anything that seemed calculated was supposed to hurt her.
It won’t work.
Nothing Rebecca could say or do would get to her. Tina just didn’t care.
Downstairs the garage door suddenly opened.
Tina put the prom ticket in her pocket, which would be its permanent place until the actual dance, and went to her room to wait. The calm before the storm would be broken soon and Tina was ready for it.
Megan was waiting for the eighteenth beep to echo, marking the third hour since her mom had first called, when she heard a sudden gasp from Samantha and turned.
Her friend was moving around, only this time her actions seemed calculated rather than the simple shifts her body had been making earlier.
“Samantha?” she asked.
Samantha twisted her head and looked up at Megan, her eyes growing wide as she recognized her friend.
“Megan?” she asked, her lips unable to muster much sound.
“Yes,” Megan said. “It’s me.”
Samantha’s closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. A second later she started gagging and twisted her body away from Megan. The vomit came in small harsh sounding clumps, and instantly filled the room with its stink.
Tears began falling from Samantha’s eyes as she spit out some leftover residue. Small bits clung to her lips and chin. Snot dangled from her nose.
Megan felt terrible for her friend but didn’t know what she could do. Above her head she could feel her hands automatically straining against the ropes without much success. There was no way to get free.
A few more gags followed but nothing else came up. Hearing it, however, and smelling the fresh stench as it flooded the room, made Megan feel nauseous once again. Fortunately there was nothing within her stomach to come up.
Samantha moaned on the floor and straightened herself into a sitting position, one which would allow some slack in the rope if she was able to lift her hands. At the moment such action did not seem possible, however.
Watching Samantha move about like this intensified Megan’s discomfort and for a moment she yearned to be on the ground as well.
But at what cost? her mind warned.
Jimmy hadn’t allowed Samantha to lie on the ground like that because he was kind; he had done it because she was broken. The question was what had the bastard done to her to make her this way?
Rape. That was obvious. But what else?
The phone beeped.
“Eighteen,” Megan said without much thought.
Samantha looked up at her and then toward the purse.
“My phone,” Megan said. “My mother tried calling me three hours ago and left a message. Ever since then it’s been beeping every ten minutes.”
Samantha did not reply to this.
Megan didn’t like how quiet her friend was being and wished she would talk with her, but also knew not to push it. Samantha would talk when she was ready and then the two would be able to start planning their escape.
Samantha herself couldn’t remember much of what had happened, the pain being the only exception. Every second she had been hanging from her wrists had seemed an eternity. It had gotten so bad that she had actually scolded herself for trying to escape and had wanted nothing more than to have Jimmy come into the room so she could apologize and be let down.
Freedom no longer seemed possible. No one was going to find her and Jimmy wasn’t going to make the mistake of tying the ropes too loose in the future. Hell, even if he did she wouldn’t be able to use her hands afterward so it didn’t matter. Despite the time she had been sitting on the ground her hands still felt as if they had been cut off at the wrists.
“Samantha,” Megan said. “What did he do to you?”
Samantha looked over and up at her friend still unsure if it really was Megan or just her imagination. She didn’t answer the question for several minutes.
“What did he do to you?” Megan repeated; her words a bit forceful.
“Hung me,” Samantha said while looking down at the floor.
Hanging from her wrists had been so terrible and exhausting that she had actually forgotten about the whipping Jimmy had given her, though the bruises and welts that covered her body still throbbed.
She shuddered at the experience, her mind hoping he would just kill her next time.
There won’t be a next time, unless…
She looked up at Megan while thinking this and pictured her friend fighting with Jimmy. Some of the images were real images from earlier, though she didn’t realize this. Instead she just saw everything as a future event, something Megan would do if given the chance, which then would result in them both being punished.
Emotions hit.
Jimmy would be punishing her again and this time it wouldn’t be her fault. It wasn’t fair.
Tears started falling again and carved new paths through the drying dampness of her earlier tears.
“It’s okay,” Megan said.
Samantha didn’t reply. It wasn’t okay.
The phone beeped again.
“Three hours and ten minutes,” Megan said.
Samantha looked over at her friend and then back at her own wrist, her mind realizing that she might be able to take the pressure off of them by bending her legs a bit and resting her elbows on her knees.
Would Jimmy be okay with that? she wondered.
He wouldn’t have lowered you to the ground if he wasn’t, another part of her mind countered.
Samantha agreed with that part of her mind and quickly shifted herself so that her knees were scrunched up toward her chest. The movement hurt her back a bit, but only in an ‘it will only hurt until something pops’ kind of way.
A few twists and the pop echoed up her spine, relief following close behind.
Slowly Samantha lifted her arms, the muscles barely able to function, her mind having to focus everything on the simple task of getting her elbows on her knees.
It took several seconds, but eventually, despite the numbness and exhaustion, she got her elbows positioned correctly and balanced them on her knees.
Pain followed as the blood flow increased, her fingers once again filling with the much needed fluid. At first it wasn’t much more than a discomfort, but within moments it got to the point where she couldn’t stop herself from screaming, her dry crusty lips opening just enough to allow her anguish to bounce back and forth across the concrete room.