Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
I’m going to be some cold case that doesn’t get solved until the sociopath in front of me screws up. How can they solve the case when he talks to himself and answers to different names?
Maybe that’s his plan. After Country Boy gives him whatever this shipment is, I die. And no one will know it was him because he can answer to another name easy.
I don’t want to die, not this way especially. Like why can’t I fall asleep and not wake up? I always tell Carrie that sleep apnea has to be the worst thing because one minute the sleep is there and the next, the person’s body takes over jolting them awake so they don’t die from not breathing. Suddenly, I wouldn’t mind having sleep apnea but the one where I don’t wake up. Like go to sleep, die. I used to think what a terrible ending to someone’s life story. She lived a solid life, but went to bed and the apnea won. In this situation though, I am begging to have sleep apnea. I will go to sleep and stop breathing. No pain. No fear. I can deal with it ending for me in that manner. Not whatever wild way this man may think up to end me.
My mind races again and I have to focus to stay calm and rational. Crazy thoughts and giving into fear gets people off kilter, I don’t have any room for error. I fall apart, I’ll get stupid and potentially make my situation worse. No, I’m playing it smart. I’m going to be me through and through and try to learn as much as I can about this man in front of me.
Jordyn, from work, always says, “if you ain’t tough, you ain’t shit,” before we go into any animal pen where she’s concerned for her safety. After her first encounter with an Emu, I understand the trepidation. It’s her mantra to keep pressing on.
Right now, that’s my tagline. I’ll steal until I’m out of this. New mental mantra. I have to be tough. Without strength, the mental kind, I’m not shit.
I’m out of sorts. My neck hurts from sleeping with my head hanging. I feel the urge to pee and ask again, “Please, I need to use the restroom,” I almost beg.
Funny thing, I got the most spankings as a little girl for not saying please. Momma will be proud, those manners stick with me now even if it kills me inside to try to play nice with a completely off the rails man who kidnapped me and I don’t exactly know why. I can do this. Kindness counts. ‘Get more flies with honey than vinegar’ that is Aunt Willa’s favorite thing to tell us.
Feeling disconnected from my body, I’m angry with myself. I’m stronger than this. He doesn’t get to beat me in this mind game. One thing, he damn sure won’t break me. I refuse. This newfound resolve is washing over me. I need this second wind to endure whatever is to come.
Finally, he moves to cut the zip-ties. I fight the instinct to kick him in the face. I don’t know where I am. How far away is help? If I manage to get free, what are my next steps?
I have more questions than answers.
What I do know? I haven’t been sexually assaulted. My body doesn’t feel like he’s done anything to me in my state of unconsciousness. When I’ve used the bathroom, he’s always turned away. He has given me the grace of some modesty. My clothes aren’t torn and he even brought my bag. When I’ve changed, he has turned away as well. His game here isn’t some kind of sexual thing which gives me some relief. Albeit, being kidnapped sucks all the way around, but he’s not violated me like that… yet.
This is what I get for having the best sex of my life… kidnapped the next day like my pussy holds some kind of power. How do I tell this guy, nope, I don’t have the power? He took the wrong person.
Country Boy’s dick is just pure magic. He knows all the tricks and really he is the one you should have kidnapped. I’m one of many women who happen to fall into a hookup with a biker because they fuck good. Really good, exceptional even. Hell, I’m nothing to this man but another bimbo. But law of nature or whatever, I got something good… top tier amazing level good, even for a moment, and now I pay the price for it.
He helps me up and guides me on shaking legs to the bathroom. The more time passes, the more unsteady I become. Whether it’s the drugs, lack of food, dehydration, or a combination of everything I don’t know. He doesn’t shut the door, he stands with his back to me as I handle things. I let out a cry in agony. My stomach is hurting really bad. It’s a problem I know all too well.