Page 52 of Traces of Her
Thirty-Three
GRIFFIN
HOURS PASS AS I HOLD ROWENA tightly against me, listening to her breathing evenly against my chest. Blocking out our surroundings, our situation, it’s easy to imagine that we’re anywhere but here, on a bed made of blankets locked in a house with a psychopath. If one good thing ever came from my childhood, it was that. It lifts the solemn weight from your shoulders, making it easier to breathe and find comfort in the silence within your mind.
Sometimes it’s not that simple and it gets too loud on the outside, breaking through the barrier you put up and the weight violently falls back onto your shoulders.
We’re trapped in a hell disguised as a house.
I should have known better.
Silence here is never a good sign.
Carefully untangling myself from Rowena, I quietly slip out of the room and into the hallway. The floorboards creak underneath my feet as I make my way toward the basement door, surveying the other rooms as I pass by. As I reach the room Ryder was in, I immediately notice the door is wide open, but it’s quiet inside. Slowly poking my head in the doorway, the room is empty.
My adrenaline spikes, quickly rushing through my veins as panic starts to fill my body. Walking across the hall to Jared’s room, I notice something on the door that I hadn’t before; a lock, on the outside.
And it’s locked.
Glancing back down the hallway, my eyes find the entrance into the basement. I’m closer to the door than I was before and the light creeping from underneath wasn’t visible until now.
My feet move before my mind even makes the connection.
Jared has Ryder in the basement.
Skipping steps as I run downstairs, I grab the doorknob as I reach the door and it won’t budge. Twisting and turning, it doesn’t give. Stepping sideways, I take a step back before driving my shoulder into the door, using as much force as I can, but it does nothing.
“Jared!” I shout at the door and raise my fist, banging it against the locked door. “Open up the fucking door!”
A few moments pass as I continue to pound on the door before I hear Jared on the other side and suddenly the door unlocks. Shoving it open, the force throws Jared against the wall and I rush past him into the room just as Ryder is lowering the chains hanging from the ceiling, holding Lydia up by her wrists. As her arms fall to her sides, I grab Ryder’s arm, spinning him to face me.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I yell, grabbing Ryder by the shoulders. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”
Ryder narrows his eyes at me, shaking his head. “No.” His voice is hard as he turns toward Lydia. “I need to get her out of here.”
“If you want her alive, you need to leave. I got her, I promise,” I assure him. Ryder glances at Lydia with a look of regret as I shove him out the door.
As the door closes, I hear Lydia yell as she falls to the ground behind me. Spinning around I catch sight of Jared beating her on the ground with a metal pipe.
“Jared!” I yell as I sprint across the room. “For fuck’s sake! That’s enough!”
He drops the pipe in a rush and hangs his head, taking deep breaths as he leans on his knees above her. I grab the pipe from the ground, throwing it across the room as Jared crouches down in front of her.
“Look at me, you stupid bitch,” he mutters.
When she doesn’t look at him, he grabs a fistful of hair and lifts her head upward. Pressing his head up against the side of hers he holds up his phone with the camera facing them.
“Time for a selfie!” he exclaims, taking a picture. “Let’s send this one to Daddy. It’s time for him to know, he needs to listen to me or you’re fucking dead.”
“Jared,” I warn in a low tone as he sends the picture.
In one swift movement, he slams her head down onto the concrete floor, instantly knocking her out.
“What the fuck!” I bark, feeling the hoarseness in my throat. He stands back up, smiling at me.
“Wanna see the picture?” He smirks. “I definitely didn’t get her good side,” he chuckles as he sends it in a text to our father.
“This has to stop, Jared,” I press. “You have to draw a line somewhere here.”