The Forum by Marie Reyes (short books for teens .txt) 📕

water back in the broken glass. "Okay. Don't call the cops. I'm going to be straight with you. I think your stepbrother has done something bad, like really bad. I can't say anything else, I'm sorry."

She stood there with a glazed look in her eyes as if she was in shock before she finally managed to open her mouth. "You know him?"

"You could say that. Listen, I know you don't know me, but if you want to be a good person, please, please don't tell him I was here. You have no idea what that will do, and I wish I could explain it, but..."

"Do you live near here?" she asked, her eyes darting nervously as if she was checking they weren't being watched.

"We're not too far away."

"Do you know Bleacher's Bar in Des Plaines?"

"I don't personally, but I'm sure I'll be able to find it."

"I will be there at 8pm tonight. Meet me?"

"Why?"

"I can't explain it now, just go, quick, before he sees you."

"What's your name?"

"Kerry. Now quick, go!"

Martin hurried back to the car. Kerry. She didn't seem like a Kerry. He jumped in, breathless.

"Oh my god, what happened? She's going to tell him you were there. It's over," Kristen babbled in a panic.

"No. Listen, it's fine. Don't get mad, just listen. I told her the truth, why I was there. She wasn't buying what I was telling her, so I told her the truth—"

"Mart—"

"Let me finish. She looked really scared. I got weird vibes off of her, like she knew something. She wants to meet us in a bar tonight. I think she knows something, and I think she's on our side. She told me to leave quickly because she didn't want him seeing me. She's his step-sister."

"How much did you tell her?"

"I just said that I thought he did something bad. She did not look surprised. I'm telling you, she knows something, she might even be scared of him."

"What bar?" Kristen perked up with a newfound energy.

"Bleachers, in Des Plaines. Do you know it?"

"I know the one." Kristen grinned. "I can't believe it. We may actually catch this person. I never thought we would even come close." Her eyes watered as if she was going to cry, but she could not stop smiling.

Chapter

Thirty Three

He was gone, for now. She couldn't stand it when he was there. When he was there, she tried to detach herself and leave her body. When he was there, she would pretend she wasn't. It was all some nightmare that she begged to awake from and to be safe in her bed. When he wasn't there, she would crawl around on her stomach looking for a sharp edge, anything she could use to try to free herself from her restraints that tied her hands behind her back and bound her feet.

The door was padlocked from the outside. The inside was just gray concrete from floor to ceiling. It was worse than a prison cell. There was no toilet, no nothing. Her captor had taken great pleasure the first time she pissed herself. He berated her for being so disgusting and told her that she looked and smelled like shit. Flecks of spit would hit her in the face as he shouted. Obscene things, things that made her recoil and wish she could put her hands over her ears. She had heard stories from her parents about the things they had to endure when they were smuggled across the border, and Isabella had taken it for granted that she would never have to go through something so dehumanizing. She assumed she would not be treated like an animal.

The man that kept her here made it his personal mission to humiliate her as much as possible. He made her eat from a bowl without using her hands like a dog. Just thinking about it made her cry all over again, and even though she was dehydrated, the tears just kept coming. When he wasn't around, she could cry as much as she liked without penance.

Day by day, it only got worse. The day he tried to rape her but couldn't, that was the worst. She thought she had seen true anger, until then. He had never actually even hit her up until that point. He beat the shit out of her then and it was a pain unlike she had ever experienced before, a pain that made every second unbearable until she wished she was dead a million times over.

Then, just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, he pissed on her. His revenge. As she felt the hot liquid on her skin, soaking into her ripped t-shirt, he said that she deserved it for being so disgusting, for putting him off. He condemned her for crimes she hadn't even committed. He called her a whore over and over. She wriggled closer to the door. She had tried everything already. Screaming, searching every inch of the room, but there was nothing, no way out. Think. Think. Think. She would have literally done anything at this point. She would have cut a hand off to be able to get out. Maybe if she hit her head against the concrete, hard, over and over again, she would be free. There was more than one type of freedom.

She had tried cutting the thin rope on the hinges of the door. The only thing that vaguely protruded from all the flat surfaces, but to no avail. Maybe if she did it long enough, something would finally give. Friction and time. She was certain there was nothing else she could do as she slid up the wall onto her knees. All she needed was to get her hands free. She couldn't think any further ahead than that.

Chapter

Thirty Four

"I think it should just be me,"