9
Lying down next to Jon, Carlie curled up against his side. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. Within seconds, they were both snoring softly.
Carlie felt sharp pain as the gravel and rocks bit deep into her shoulders and backside. Twisting and turning, she managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s contorted face as he dragged her across the open field. Stopping to switch hands, he bent over her. Raining spittle into her face, he cursed her very existence.
A swift, punishing kick beneath her left breast sent pinpricks of light flashing before her eyes, starving her lungs of air.
Unable to fend the man off, Carlie rolled into a fetal position, which seemed to infuriate him even more. Digging his nails painfully into her scalp, he grabbed a handful of hair and began dragging her again.
Stopping, she heard the screech of metal against metal and then the audible thud of something heavy as it dropped into the soft dirt. Opening her eyes, she watched the sky above disappear and everything turn black. She found herself suspended in midair. In shock, she took a quick breath, only to have it knocked out a moment later as her head and back slammed hard against wooden steps.
Falling and tumbling backward, her body finally came to an abrupt stop, slamming her already injured head painfully against the hard-packed dirt of the cellar floor.
As she struggled to maintain consciousness, the heavy door above slammed shut, enveloping her in an impenetrable darkness. Then someone locked the door from the outside. Lying helpless on the cold, damp earth, Carlie began sobbing uncontrollably, not only because of the pain, but also because of the isolation and rejection she felt.
“Carlie? Carlie! Are you all right?”
Opening her eyes, Carlie found Jon leaning over her.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the freezing bedroom, Carlie could see the concern on her husband’s face.
“It was just a bad dream, sweetheart. I’m all right now.”
Touching her cheek, he quickly pulled his hand away. “My God, you’re freezing.”
Wiping the tears from his wife’s cheek, Jon pulled her close and began rubbing her back and arms vigorously to warm her. He stopped when she involuntarily winced in pain. Running his hand gently under her top and across her shoulder blade, he felt dampness against his fingertips.
He turned on the bedside light and looked at his hand under the diffused glow. Blood covered the tips of three fingers. He looked down at Carlie for some kind of explanation.
“Carlie, what in the hell is going on? What happened to your shoulder?”
Looking at Jon’s bloody fingertips in disbelief, she sobbed, “I don’t know.”