High Risk by Rick R. Reed

Author:Rick R. Reed [Reed, Rick R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2017-10-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Consciousness seeped in—flashes of sight, sound, smell, and feeling. Several layers of warm blankets surrounded her, the fuzzy nap of the one closest to her skin a pleasant chafe. Nearby, the smell of smoke and a faint crackling sound reached her. She closed her eyes.

“I hope you’ve learned who’s in charge here.”

She didn’t open her eyes, but the voice chilled her, in spite of the nearby heat and the blankets. Beth lowered the sound of his voice, as it continued to a drone, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * * *

When she awakened a second time, she found herself sitting on a ladder-back chair, its slats uncomfortable against her back. Clothesline had been looped around her chest and knotted behind her. Her wrists had been bound together on her lap, while each ankle had been tied uncomfortably to a chair leg. And a mirror had been positioned on the table in front of her, so she could she herself. Her skin was white, lips blue, and her red hair hung in a dark mass, lifeless, around her shoulders.

Where was Abbott? She sat in a long, narrow room. A black wood burning stove occupied one corner. A scarred wooden pedestal table stood to her left and beyond that, a cot, stripped bare, with a thin mattress upon its spring—striped ticking. Two narrow windows revealed a copse of pine trees that almost pressed against the glass.

Where was Abbott?

A white sheet covered her body. On the floor lay its mate, positioned neatly under the chair.

She glanced into the mirror again, noticing how the red of her hair made her skin look even more ashen and white.

She cringed when she heard him behind her. She felt almost as if she were in the freezing waters of the lake once more, and couldn’t breathe. With his arrival, the air seemed sucked from the room.

“Like what you see?”

“What?” Beth strained to turn, and saw him standing behind her. He held a pair of scissors in one hand, an electric razor in the other. “What are you going to do?” She tensed against the clothesline binding her.

“You’re so pretty, Beth. But I doubt I’m the first to tell you that.”

She looked into the mirror, surprised at the transformation her sudden terror wrought. Her skin color had turned high, her lips wet, and her green eyes sparkled. She thought it amazing how fright and passion were not that far removed from each other in their physical expression.

“I bet you get a lot of compliments on your hair. Don’t you, Beth?”

She wanted to reach up and touch her hair, but could only stare at the red mane in the mirror. It was the only thing she really loved about her appearance, her only assurance of beauty. She had always thought her smile too wide, and herself still the gangly, awkward girl from junior high. But her hair, her crown, of that she had always been sure. Her mother used to tell her she should try to model—she’d be a shoo-in for hair-care products.

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