Page 64 of Widow's Walk
Knowing there’s no sense in trying, I have to anyway. Using the wall for support, I stand up and give myself a few moments to steady my legs and find my balance. I don’t have time to waste.
Here goes nothing.
Gearing up my strength, I sprint forward, then angle my body to ram my shoulder into it. “Ohh,” I groan in agony, holding my shoulder. That fucking hurt like a bitch.
I rotate my arm a few times to work out the kinks and shake off the pain. This is not the time to be a pussy. I’ve been through worse.
I give it two more goes before my body gives out and I slump to the floor. My energy is completely depleted. There’s no use in crying out because anyone out there is the same people who put me in here.
The will to survive does not stem from the will tolive. It’s about pride. I will decide when, how, and where I will go out. Not any of them. Me. My choice.
The longer I sit here, the more my memories start to reveal themselves. It’s all my fault. I let my guard down. I thought I was in the clear. I walked around in broad daylight thinking my newly darkened hair would be a disguise enough to remain unnoticed.
I barely saw it coming. I was caught and bagged.
And it wasn’t by accident. They knew exactly who I was.
“The last of the Ortizs.”
“Her head is worth millions.”
“No. We were ordered not to kill her. She’s going to the auction.”
“Her bid will be worth more.”
The underground auction where women are lined up and sold like cattle to the highest bidder. Paraded on a stage to be broken and humiliated in front of a crowd of men with deep pockets, and by invitation only. Politicians, old money, new money. Anyone with a sick fetish of an unwilling woman and the pocket to fit the bill.
An unexpected laugh escapes me just thinking about the sorry motherfucker who wins the bid on me. The prize will not be worth the price.
The door opens with a shrill, ear-piercing sound. Two men step inside. They’re armed with brawn muscle, but they still have no clue they just stepped on a hornet’s nest.
“You need to eat,” one of them says robotically, tossing me a plastic-wrapped sandwich, as the other guy gives me a look that turns my stomach.
I curl into myself, trembling and wide-eyed. Like a frightened little bird with a broken wing. And it works like a charm.
As soon as they get close, I strike like a feral beast. Teeth gnashing and claws ripping at flesh in a frenzy. I sink my teeth into the neck of one as the other tries to pry me off him. Copper floods my tongue, and I spit out a chunk of flesh as I’m yanked away.
I don’t hesitate as I turn on the next. My nails tearing his face apart, and I catch his eye. His hands slap over it on instinct. He stumbles back, and I throw my weight into him, knocking him down and straddling him.
Using my thumbs, I hook them into his eyes and push all my weight into them. Instead of trying to remove my body from his,he only scratches and claws at my hands. But they’re anchored in by my nails. I’m shaking from using so much force, and I scream through my teeth. Blood curdles out of the sockets as they give way, and my thumbs sink into his skull.
I’m yanked off and tossed back, hitting the ground with a thud. But it does not stop me. I’m too high on adrenaline to feel anything. The first victim is mobile again, holding one hand to his neck as he bleeds. “I’m going to fucking kill you, bitch,” he seethes through blood-stained teeth.
I give him a bloody smile right back and scream like a Banshee, flying through the air, talons extended. On instinct, he removes his hand to use both of his to try and fight me off. I use a finger and stab into the open wound close to his throat. He screams out, and the more he flails, striking me anywhere he can get to, the more my finger disappears into his neck. All the way to my knuckle.
The sickening sound of flesh and gurgling breath brings me joy, sparking the adrenaline coursing through my veins like a rush of heroin.
My body is lifted by my arms with harsh grips restraining me. I start cackling as I watch the gory picture I painted. Blood still running, still warm.
“Goddamnit! I told them to watch her carefully!” someone shouts. I keep laughing like a fucking lunatic. “Get them out of here.”
I’m tossed into a corner and watch them with a splintering grin as they drag out the bodies, and guard the door to make sure I don’t make a run for it. The one who was barking orders is the last one to leave. He sneers at me. “Crazy whore.” He spits on the floor, then slams the door shut.
They return only minutes later, stronger in number. I’m crouching in the corner like a feral, covered from head to toe inblood. I’m no match for them, but that doesn’t stop me. Nothing will stop me until they physically put me down.
My efforts are futile, and I’m easily overpowered. A pinch on my neck has me stilling. Cold trickles through my veins, burning them. I go limp, let my grin die. They drop me to my feet, and I stumble back and fall to the floor.
“Fucking cunt. She made me bleed,” one of them says.
