The Dark Arts by Kitty Thomas

Author:Kitty Thomas [Thomas, Kitty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781938639685
Publisher: Kitty Thomas

19

Book Two: The Escape Artist

Forty-three days. That was the amount of time Claire's captor kept her imprisoned. Three years had passed since her escape, yet every night when she closed her eyes she was back in that dank basement with her tormentor.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you, Rich Bitch? Living off daddy's money. Where is he? Where is your family? Why aren't they looking for you? Why has no one come for you?”

She flinched as he gripped her hair and jerked her face close to his.

He poked a grimy finger against her forehead, pushing her away from him again. “Because nobody wants you. You're just like every other spoiled brat disappointment. No one filed a missing person's report. You didn't even make the news. Poor poor little rich girl. What's it like to know even with all your money, you don't matter any more than me in this world?”

Claire shook his words out of her head and took a long slow breath. She had to leave the apartment today. There were things she needed, and she had to go out. She almost never went out. What if he found her? What if he took her again? She always wore sunglasses and a hoodie, at least this time of year. And she only went out in the daylight. She was very very careful. Still, no precaution ever felt like enough.

The tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. He'd planned to kill her that night. She'd seen it in the change of his demeanor. He'd grown bored with her. He was ready for a new toy to torture. He'd fucked her and pimped her out to all his gross friends, and now he needed fresh meat. She could only think the word fucked in her mind. She couldn't let herself think the real word of what he'd done. It would make it real.

If it was real then her life was over. Things would never be okay again.

Who was she kidding? She knew it was real. She knew he was out there. And she was still his prisoner even now. He'd probably moved away or was wrapped up in another victim by now because she knew she wasn't the only one. She hadn't been the first, and she knew she wasn't the last.

Guilt gripped her at the thought of the others he must have hurt by now because she didn't have the courage to go to the police. She didn't trust they could keep her safe. What if he found her before the police could find him? What if the charges didn't stick? If he found her again...

He was right, no one had missed her. Her parents had been abroad. They barely talked to her anyway. They only saw her on holidays. He'd taken her in July, so when she'd escaped in late August, she'd had months to try to pretend she was okay before Thanksgiving rolled around. And the fact that they had bought it? It was only more evidence of how distant they were from her, how little they truly knew her.

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