SIX
Offensive acts come back upon the evil, like dust thrown against the wind fades into the shadows of the soul.
~Savannah Bushard
Ella and I quickly change for our run. I want to tell her about my secret affair with Styx and the strong feelings I have for him. It seems wrong not sharing with her, but she’s so caught up in the mess with Grayson. I don’t want to add to her troubles. The questioning glances when he’s around indicate she is waiting for me to broach the subject. I really need her advice. Things are moving faster than small-town gossip. It might have started our lust at first sight, but what’s growing between us is more. And I need to figure it out quickly, before someone in the higher-ups figures us out.
We’ve been together every free moment since we met. The sex is off the charts. The attraction is more than physical. I’m drawn to his powerful aura. The confidence in his walk. The gentleness he reserves only for me. The big, burly stud cuddles. He makes me laugh. I can’t help that I’m falling fast. He makes it so easy.
Just last night, I returned to my place and found he had made dinner. I sat on the couch while he rubbed my aching feet. He likes to spoil me. We talked about returning home when this tour ends. I shared a little about my family in Texas, and he told me about growing up in Lakeview.
We’re almost to the corner when a van pulls up beside us and stops. I really don’t think much of it. There’s always traffic in and out of here. Then two masked men jump out and attack us. An overwhelming need to protect Ella surfaces. I manage a swift blow to the nose of the one wrestling me toward the open door when my head explodes and it’s lights out.
The stinging pain from a previous blow to my sweat-drenched body wakes me from the nightmare, only for me to realize I’m still in a living hell. I glance around the dark prison and see Ella is tied to a chair, blindfolded and gagged, in the center of the room. Her chin is drooping forward onto her chest, and her running clothes are intact. Thank you, Jesus, for small miracles. My best friend is still whole, giving every indication she hasn’t been touched by the horrible man and his associates who kidnapped us. Unlike me. Mine are gone.
They must have dosed her up on something stronger, because she’s been out for all the misery I’ve endured the last twenty-four hours. My clothes are in tattered shreds, hanging on my abused, bruised body. I was dumped in this room after the first interrogation.
A tear escapes and the onslaught of helplessness overwhelms me. I cry silently, afraid a noise will summon one of the kidnappers. I need time to develop a good and safe plan to get us out of here. My body may be broken, but my will is still intact.
I check out the prison of a room we’ve been thrown into and attempt to loosen the ropes secured around my throbbing wrists and ankles. A little noise catches my attention. Ella is moving around, and I’m fearful she will make a sound and the nightmare of hell will start all over again.
The covering moves from side to side when she lifts her head upright.
“Thank God, you’re finally awake. We’re in a shitload of trouble, Ella bug,” I whisper, understanding she can’t respond. “I know you don’t understand, but the people who took us are bad, Ella, really bad. Whatever happens, don’t give up. Remember what we were taught in training. We are survivors and we’ll get out of here one way or the other. We just have to survive. That’s it, sugar. Got it? I’m with ya, no matter what…”
Sheer terror radiates throughout my entire well-being the moment the door opens and he strides into the room.
Five unknown men have brutalized me until I’ve been tempted to let go, ready to meet my maker and my loved ones who have passed on. The longing for death surrounds me. If Ella weren’t here, I would have attempted to lure them into killing me. Taunted them and their puffed-up male egos until they would have beaten me to death. Hell, it’s a horrible death, but the constant violation and rape is taking a toll on me. I’m tough, but the more I endure, the more the struggle to survive takes a toll on my well-built mental defenses. My sanity is fading. And with that, the only sane thought is I have to ensure Ella escapes their clutches. She’s my little sister. I have to focus on my mission, continually chant it over and over. The powerful suggestion in my head I’m saving her somehow helps me survive.
“Has our special guest decided to join us yet?” he asks, leaning toward my best friend.
“Keep your fuckin’ hands away from her, you filthy pig!” I threaten and watch as he seizes Ella's right breast.
“We are saving you for later, little one,” the deep voice promises. “As for your friend, the boys have sampled her already and want more.”
I’m not a religious person. When my aunt withered away and died from cancer, I prayed. When I ran from home because of the perfect life that never happened because of misguided youthful longings, I prayed. When the kidnappers assaulted me the first time, I prayed. Every time I’ve prayed, I have been let down without results.
Reluctantly, I try one more time to ease the burden on my soul and pray. For what, honestly, I’m just not sure. Because if you ask me, if I think there's a God up in the Heaven and I’m about to receive divine intervention, the answer is no. I’ve been abandoned so many times before, I question the validity of a higher being.
Am I strong enough to withstand another round? If you're there, please help me get through what I’m about to face, I silently plead before he reaches for me with a sinister smirk. I attempt to flee, moving my head back and forth, warding him off when my body force doesn’t work. I ask, Where are you, God, in the middle of my shame and degradation? Where are you, God, as I stare at this man with no mercy in his eyes.
I struggle when he hauls me up, slamming me into his chest. I scream at the brutal man-handling this overgrown asshole inflicts. Grueling pain discharges from the middle of my chest and spreads outwards, suffocating me. The knife wounds from the first round are septic and already infected. I’m dragged by the tips of my short hair down the hall to the area where the waiting assholes are. Ella’s muffled screams are a haunted memory of why I have to survive. I have to save her, no matter what.
Strong fingers grasp my biceps, and I’m maneuvered to a makeshift cross in the center of the room, a lamb to the slaughter. My bloody wrists and ankles are once again anchored to the metal with rope, binding me in for the duration of the inquisition.
“Savannah Jaqueline Bushard, Second Lieutenant, 401927308.”
“Oh, so cute. She’s reciting her name, rank, and digits like a prisoner of war, fellas. Should we treat her as such?”
I keep saying the same sentence over and over. Name, rank, digits. Even when the sting of pain registers on my left breast and I want to scream from the violation and pain. I continue. Name, rank, digits. Focus, Savannah. The rhythmic tune keeps my mind directed from the madness surrounding me. When the first asshole inserts his tiny dick, I cringe at the invasion but toughen my mind. Name, rank, digits. He’s torturing me. I’m a captured prisoner of war.
I was trained to deal with situations like these. Fuck! I went through the three weeks of survival, evasion, resistance, and escape training at Fort Rucker.
My mind drifts to the last week of training. I wanted to quit; so did Ella. We were the only two gals appointed to the course. Ella and I dubbed it hell week for many reasons, but the main lesson that sticks out in my mind is Never leave a soldier behind and at all costs protect, divert and evade. Plus, just like now, there wasn’t an inch of my body that wasn’t achy and sore.
The endurance testing was extreme to the body and the mind. At the time, I loathed the instructors and wanted to quit. I’m thankful I didn’t give up. The stubbornness that seeded inside me grew. Essentially cementing the hard outer shell everyone around me is privy to. I’m relying on it now to help me persevere and help Ella escape.
I have been caught in a nightmare, hoping this is only a dream and we are back on base, safe. But I can’t falter in finding a way to escape and get Ella and me the hell out of this mess. My head swivels right, and I’m bombarded with pain from the blow. The coopery taste of blood flows in my mouth. Something wet dribbles down my temple and jaw.
Spots start dancing in front of my eyes when firm hands lock around my already sore throat. My stomach pitches with a sickening lurch. He’s going to kill me. That spineless asshole. I’m light-headed from the lack of oxygen, and the instant I feel myself slipping into oblivion, the pressure is released. My bent body falls slack, and I’m gulping dusty air into my lungs.
“Fuck you, you worthless excuse for a dick. You would have to tie a woman up to get off,” I yell at the man instigating the torture. “A dead snake can still bite. Payback’s a bitch.”
“Won’t happen. Nobody knows where you are. They aren’t coming to save you. You’ll leave here in a body bag. Just like your little girlfriend in the other room. You and the bitch are as good as dead, but not until we finish having fun.”
Fiery pain explodes when his fist connects with my already battered ribs.
“Rot in hell,” I murmur, summoning the strength to spit.
“You first, bitch.”
Evil laughter surrounds me. A curdled scream makes its way from deep inside as a blade slices my lower belly.
The agonizing pain engulfs me.
The chokehold around my neck constricts, and I’m wavering into the darkness, listening to the horrified screams echo in the background.
When I come to, Ella’s angelic, panicked voice is the first thing I hear. My eyes are swollen shut from the brutal beating earlier. Breathing takes an effort. I’m almost certain a few ribs are broken. Dipshit #1 likes to use his fists way too much. My tongue drifts over my busted lips. The rancid taste of blood in the back of my throat has my stomach heaving. My whole body is on fire. I’ve been put through the wringer.
“Oh God, Vanna! You’re awake,” Ella softly whispers. I sense her fear and trepidation and try to console her.
“Mmm…you gotta get out of here, Ella…” I warn her and wince from the effort it takes.
“Can’t leave you. Won’t. We’re in this together. I know Grayson and his team are gonna find us. Just hold on, Vanna,” she furiously whispers. Tears are leaking from my bulging, puffed-up eyes, pooling around my cheek on the nasty dirt floor. Ella attempts to quiet her weeping, but I realize what she’s doing without seeing her. She blames herself for the predicament we are in. She needs to leave while she can before they hurt her.
“Not gonna make it, sugar. Go without me,” I grunt, wishing for energy that just isn’t there. I can’t see her with my eyes matted shut. Desperation is long gone. This is it. My ending. I hate like hell I’m gonna leave her all alone.
She inhales suddenly and begins to implore with emotional, urgent pleas.
“Hang in there, sweetie. Do you hear me? You can’t quit. You remember boot camp? Yeah? Hell week?” Ella recalls. “I wanted to quit and give up, but your stubborn ass wouldn’t let me. You got so mad at me for even thinking it, and we weren’t even friends yet. Thought ya were a little cray cray that day. Remember those last few miles? Wouldn’t have made it without ya calling me out. Well, now I’m returning the favor. We don’t give up, no matter what. I’ve got your twenty, sista.”
I lick my parched lips and draw in a ragged breath. “You’ve always been a pain in my ass, you know that, right? If I don’t make—”
“Shut up, Vanna. We’re gonna make it. No more shit talk,” Ella interrupts in a stern tone.
“Mmm, ’kay. Ella, I’m so cold…tired.” I release a few short, choppy breaths and comply for now. I’m freezing. Lividity is settling into my tortured body. My life force is waning with each passing second. I can feel it. The time you realize there’s a chance you won’t see any of your dreams come true. The what ifs and could haves blink in front of you.
Regrets. Pete “Styx” Fuller flashes across my darkened eyelids. Could I have had a future with him? Would that even have been possible?
“Sleep, sweetie. Just rest,” Ella gently soothes.
“Love ya, Ella bug.” It hits me like a rock. She’s my guardian angel. The sign God’s been here all along.
“Love you, too, Vanna,” she responds.
I succumb to the darkness, praying for vengeance and a way out for the both of us—death isn’t the answer.
Ella’s right.
Survive to live another day.
Another day to see Styx again, and I won’t leave Ella behind.