Beautiful Outlaw by Emily Minton
Do or Die
Shay
Marcus is screaming as he pushes me down onto a cold metal table, “You’re mine, always mine.”
“Leave me alone,” I shout, trying to pull away from him.
He shakes his head as he pushes a long knife into my side. “Never.”
I scream out in agony as my blood covers his hand. “Go away. Just, please, go away.”
His head shakes back and forth, and he shouts his denial. “I’ll never go away. I’ll always be here. You’ll always be by my side.”
“No, no,” I plead as I try to pull away from him, trying to force his hand from my side. Instead, he pushes the knife in deeper, causing my whole body to convulse in pain.
Stars dance before my eyes as I gasp for breath. “You’re killing me.”
“I’m making you better. I’m making you Gwendolyn.” His hold is tight as he cuts off piece after piece of me, sending waves of pain through my body.
Tears fill my eyes when I realize I’m going to die. “Please stop. Please don’t do this to me.”
An evil smile spreads across his face as he whispers, “I will, if you open the door.”
I want to cry out, ask him what door, but his free hand is suddenly covering my mouth. I shake my head, trying to make him move, but he holds firm. Leaning over me, he whispers, “Let me in.”
Just as the knife digs deeper again, my eyes jerk open. It takes me a second to realize that I’m still in the safe room. It had all been a dream, everything but the pain. It’s overwhelming; it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Even with my limited knowledge, I know there is more wrong with me than just a few broken ribs.
With each breath I take, the pain nearly causes me to lose consciousness again. Just as I think I can take no more, a cough makes it way up my throat. My mouth suddenly fills with blood. Rolling my head to the side, I spit it out, but the taste lingers on my tongue. My mind runs in circles, trying to figure out what is wrong with me.
I take in a deep breath; pain instantly fills my body. Even though it hurts to breathe, I’m not struggling to get air in. If my broken ribs had punctured a lung, I would be struggling to breathe. Since I’m not, I don’t think that has happened. Still, I know something inside of me is bleeding, and that can’t be good. I try to think of something that will keep me alive until Bowie gets here, but there is nothing I can do but wait for him.
The sound of something or someone beating on the door draws my attention. For a second, I think it might be Bowie, but the sound of Marcus’ voice kills my hopes and proves that part of my dream had been reality. “Let me in.”
“Never,” I whisper out as I pull in a pain filled breath.
“Open the door, Laura.”
I almost laugh when I hear him say that name. For years, I was Gwendolyn to him, and now he finally calls me Laura. I want to scream out, tell him my name is Shay, but I don’t have the strength. Instead, I do my best to ignore it. Trying to focus on something else, I think of Bowie- his beautiful blue eyes, his gentle kiss, the secret smile that he doesn’t share with anyone but me. I have to see him again, have to tell him I love him again and hope to hear it back.
“Open this door, now,” Marcus bellows, drawing my attention.
My eyes instinctively move to the door. My fear spikes as I wonder if he’ll get in. With the shape I’m in, I wouldn’t be able to fight him. I doubt I’d even be able to scream, not that anything I would do could stop him from taking me away.
I watch the door for a second before I realize that, even though I can hear him beating on it, the door’s not budging. He could bang on it all day, and he’d never get in. Still, I know I’ll have to come out sooner or later. I just hope I can hold off until Bowie gets here.
The sounds start to fade as my eyes start getting heavy again. Realizing that if I close them they may never open again, I try to think of something to do to stay awake. I reach for my water bottle and try to force a drink down my throat. I can’t seem to swallow it, no matter how hard I try. In fact, all it does is cause me to cough again. The pain is so extreme that I give up the idea of trying to force the water down.
Knowing I need to do something or I’ll fall to sleep, I push my body from the floor. Black spots fill my vision, and for a moment, I think I’m going to crumble back to the floor. It takes a moment for the room to quit spinning, and finally my eyes clear. Scanning the room, crate after crate line the walls. I have no idea what’s in them and don’t have the strength or energy to look.
Walking to the center of the room, I stare at the door. Marcus is still pounding on it, screaming from time to time. For the first time, I realize I haven’t heard Red since I woke up. I wonder if he’s gone. If he is, I hope he hasn’t gone back to the clubhouse. Just the thought reminds me that I need to find a way to get out of here before Red does something to hurt Bowie.
Looking away from the door, my eyes land on the shelf that holds the water bottles. I notice a small black box on the wall beside it. It takes a second to make out what I’m seeing, a phone. It’s the old-fashioned kind, with a coiled cord and a big dial in the center.
Relief fills my body as I move toward it. As I reach for it, reality sits in. I never bothered memorizing numbers anymore; they are all stored in my cell. The same cell that is tucked safely away in my purse, sitting on the dresser of Bowie’s room at the clubhouse. The only thing I can do is call 911.
I pull it from the hook and start to turn the dial. The crates catch my eye again, just as I start to turn the last number. I can only assume that drugs or guns are inside of them, but I know for sure that whatever it is isn’t legal. The police would help me, but they would have to enter this room to do so. Then, Bowie will be in trouble. After all he has done for me, I can’t do that to him.
Pulling my finger away, I try to think of another way. My only other option would be to call my dad. He and mom have had the same phone number at the house for as long as I can remember. It’s the only phone number I know by heart, but I’m not sure I want to use it. I can’t get him in the middle of this; he’s been through enough. Just as I’m about to turn away, another pain rushes through my body, followed by a hard cough. When I taste more blood, I know that it’s call or die.
Making my decision, I start turning the numbers as fast as I can. On the second ring, he picks up. “Hello.”
“Daddy, I need help.”