Citrine (Deliverance #3)

3. Eli

3

Eli

Something's wrong.

I mean, more than just the fact that I've been arrested. We're heading out into the desert instead of downtown, where they should book me.

I've been there plenty of times on loitering charges to know this is bull.

The thought of confronting them about it makes my heart pound, but it's getting progressively more remote.

I clear my throat. "Where are you taking me?"

They ignore me, and it pisses me off. "My mom's going to wonder where I went. You can't do this!"

The one with the buzz cut scoffs at me, finally turning to engage. "Right, you little bitch. Clearly, the woman who accused you of beating her is worried about you."

"I didn't!"

He laughs. "That's pretty obvious."

The one driving lets out a long breath. "Are you sure about his one?"

"Yeah, I pulled up her record real quick while they pulled out that deadbeat. Just another nobody that no one's gonna miss."

His comment is like a punch in the gut, and I sink down into the seat, the zip ties cutting into my wrists in a sting to match the sick feeling in my chest.

He's right. I'm a nobody. I had plans to make a mark on the world. I had someone who loved me and believed in me. Both long lost.

Now I'll just be another statistic.

Someone who didn't show up to work, but everyone knew it was bound to happen, so they won't think about it more than a few minutes, likely just angry they have to figure out how to cover for me.

Hell, all I had was a bed share arrangement and it'll probably take her weeks to realize I haven't been around.

No one will even notice.

I blink back the tears and try again. "Where are we going? What are you planning to do?"

They don't answer, just go back to talking about some stupid football team. Soon after, we pull onto a gravel road, and I know I'm screwed.

It's a cop car, so the doors are locked. My hands are cuffed.

I'll just have to hope they kill me fast and there's no torture involved.

I'm feeling lightheaded as we bump down the road, my empty stomach sending waves of nausea up to somehow make the whole experience just one more layer of terrible.

"Why?"

Again, they ignore me. Cops and I haven't always had the best interactions. Partly because of my homelessness, the other part because I look like an immigrant, but many of them have been kind.

Helped me out, even, but these two are obviously among the scum that give the whole profession a bad name.

I give up trying to talk to them and instead look at my surroundings. The miles of baked ground, low scruff, and intermittent cactus aren't making me feel good about my odds if I try to run.

Another mile, with no plan formed, and we stop. I struggle when one of them pulls me from the car.

"Calm down, sweetie," he tells me, making me wish I knew how to break his stupid neck.

I struggle against the cuffs, desperate to get away, but it's futile.

"You'll like it," the one on my left mocks.

Before I can say anything more, the mocking one throws a thick cloth over my face, muffling my screams, then they drag me across some gravel before pushing me roughly against something hard.

Judging by the feel of it and the sudden pain of splinters, it's a wooden fence post. Big hands push me down until I smear all the way down it, my hands scraping along the wood until I can feel blood flowing.

Then they use another zip tie so my arms are tied around it, continuing to ignore me yelling at them. Then both car doors close. I scream at them again, but my only response is the sound of tires kicking up rocks.

No one comes and I eventually run myself out of energy, the hot sun leeching me of the ability to even keep myself upright.

It's like some sort of mockery of the sunshine cape I imagine around myself when I need to get my panic under control. What I get for trying to run away from reality all those times.

Now it's burning me alive.

I'm delirious by the time I hear the strange sounds, though I do notice that it is blessedly cool now. Far better than hours of endless heat and the fear of suffocating under the thick fabric.

When I smell some sort of gas and feel it pushing me toward sleep, it's a relief.