“Are you mad that I called you a rapist, or mad because now every time you look in the mirror you have to remember the night the same way I do?”
He lifted his head, eyes blazing.
“Oops,” I whispered. “I forgot to ask for permission to speak. Please forgive me, Mr. du Lac.”
Minutes disappeared as we stared at one another with only the sound of wind and the birdsongs fading with the sun.
“Dear little nun….” West’s calm, too soft, voice drifted over my shoulder.
My heart froze in my chest.
He held up my phone, the blue light casting his face in gaunt, statuesque shadows.
“I know I should be focusing on other, more important things. I should worry about my grandfather. I should worry about finding the coin…” West arched his brow at me. “What did you say again about not looking for a coin, Angel?”
“What is that? What are you reading?” I ran to him, reaching for the phone.
He stood on the wall, holding it higher, laughing as he continued to read. “But somewhere, he has his hands on you, and whenever he even looks at you…” West looked down at me. “I can’t fucking think.”
I reached helplessly for the phone. “Stop.”
“Giving up everything,” he mocked. “Living with that regret. It would have been easier than this. I never should have let you go.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until my tears blurred his mocking face.
“You’re getting a lot of text messages, Angel. It’s kind of annoying. Keeps me up at night.”
“How many more are there?” My words were broken. I grasped at his arm, digging in the soft fabric of his shirt, but now I used it more to hold myself up.
“Dear Snitch,” he continued. “It’s been a week. The dust has settled and…”
“And what?” I looked up at West, hope in my voice.
I hated that there was hope in my voice.
I was desperate for more words from Grayson. It didn’t matter that they were coming from my captor’s mouth.
“And what?” I tugged on the hem of West’s shirt, practically begging.
West looked down at me, studying me with a vicious curiosity arching his brow.
“Should I send him something back?” he asked lightly.
This is what it felt like to lose all the blood in your body. For time to actually stop. Because I saw him starting to type a response, but I couldn’t move my fingers. They felt frozen, like the time I made snowballs without any gloves.
“Dear Grayson…” West started. “What should I say, Angel?”
“Stop…”
“Dear Grayson…he felt so good inside me.”
I shoved him, but it was weak.
He laughed harder. “You don’t like that one. Okay. How about… Dear Grayson, why did you let me leave? You should have tied me to the bed. It’s torture here. I don’t know if we’ll survive. I think…I think I’m going to kill myself. By the time you get this message, I’ll already be dead.”
I stumbled back, tripping over my heels.
If Grayson got that message…