With Love Read online

  I WILL become something worthwhile and be happy. Those are my life goals.

  That’s all for tonight.

  Love,

  Elle

  Each entry I read makes me angrier. Heck, I snapped at the worker delivering office mail before because he interrupted me. I have to get out of this office for a while.

  Elenore was sixteen when all this was happening to her. No sixteen-year-old should be put through this kind of childhood.

  “Pierce, did we get bloodwork back on the drops that were found from Elenore’s last known location?” I call to him before I head out the door.

  He grabs a file and flips it open. How did I not know this had come in? “I got it about five minutes ago, and haven’t had a chance to look over it just yet.” He peruses the paperwork before him, while I stand by, twiddling my thumbs. His brow furrows as if he does not understand what’s written in front of him.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Well, the blood matches that of a missing person from twelve years ago, Rose Billings. But that can’t be possible. Right?”

  He looks up at me, the puzzled look still plastered on his face. What he’s saying is not what I expected. This gets weirder and weirder.

  “Are you sure they didn’t mix up the bloodwork?” I need to know. Elenore has been gone for twelve days with no word and no body.

  “I’ll get them to run it again.” He picks up his phone. “Wait… who reported her missing?”

  Pierce types a few things on his keyboard. “Oh my…” He pauses, his eyes scanning what’s in front of him.

  Screw this. I read over his shoulder, and my mouth drops open. Elenore or Rose’s missing reports were lodged by one of the wealthiest families in New York. They own a large investment company—TAB Investments. The owners are Tabatha and Andrew Billings. “Damn. Just what we need,” I mutter under my breath. “Don’t let this get out right now. I’ll talk to the captain, and I want to talk to her adoptive mother, Suzie, again. Keep this under wraps,” I hiss at him.

  Back at Suzie’s, I sit in the now familiar living room. I don’t hold back on account of her feelings anymore, as I seek answers to Elenore’s life.

  “So Suzie, can you tell me… were the Smiths your neighbors for a long time?” I start.

  Suzie ponders for a moment, sipping her tea. “I’ve been here since I was married, so a number of years. I remember when they moved in they had Elenore with them. She was a child.” My chest tightens as she continues to speak. “The poor girl was like a zombie, walked around dazed and continually crying to go home.”

  My suspicions were beginning to become a reality. “Crying to go home?” I question.

  She nods. “I just assumed she wasn’t happy that they moved here. She already had bruises on her arms and large dark rings under her eyes. The poor dear.”

  This isn’t what I wanted to hear. I’ve read four of Elenore’s journals over the last few days. Each entry describes some kind of hell she went through. I wish I could go back in time and take her from that place. A part of me wants to yell at Suzie and ask why she couldn’t have done more for the girl. More should have been done for her.

  “Damn,” I curse under my breath.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Lifting my head, I come face to face with her pleading stare. Suzie has unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Well…” I pause, unsure how to tell her. As my mother would say, I need to rip the Band-Aid off and expose the wound. “Today we got the bloodwork back… There were drops of blood at the kidnapping scene. We ran them through the system, hoping to pinpoint a connection with her parents. Instead, it came back with a missing person’s report, which matched to a girl who was reported missing about twelve years ago.”

  Suzie sucks in a hard breath, cursing quietly. Her trembling hands cover her mouth, her tears now falling down her cheeks. “Wh… How did this go unnoticed? Police had been to their place when she was little, too. How did they not recognize her?”

  Questions keep coming, ones I can’t answer.

  I will be looking further into these reports that’s for damn sure.

  Placing my hand on her knee for some sort of comfort, I tell her, “I’m not sure, but I promise you that I’ll be getting to the bottom of it. Your questions will not go unanswered. I guarantee you.”

  “I could have helped her, and gotten her back to her family.” She cries, her sobs becoming harder and harder.

  “Do you have anyone we can call?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I’ll be all right. My husband passed away, and we never had children. I have a sister, but she’s a few hours away. I’ll be fine,” Suzie assures me as I watch the small tears slide down her face. She catches them with her tissue.

  I’m saddened for her.

  Standing up, I place the cup I’d been holding back on her tray. “I’m so sorry, Suzie.”

  She stands, placing her arms around me and giving me a hug, and I return it. She needs someone. That person is usually Elenore, but I’ll take her place for now.

  “I have to go, but I promise I’ll be back and when I do I’ll bring answers with me.”

  She nods while wiping her eyes. “Promise me another thing?”

  “Sure.”

  “If you happen to find those monsters who called themselves her parents, make sure they’re in a ditch somewhere. But if not, I’d sure like them to be.” I catch the pure rage that flames in her glassy eyes.

  “Between you and me, Suzie, they won’t live to see another day of sunlight.”

  “Urgh…” I grumble. I’ve come back to reality. Every part of me pulses with continuous throbs of excruciating pain. My eyes aren’t willing to open, and they still burn.

  I’m not alone. Whoever is there isn’t making any noise, but I can hear their breathing.

  “Welcome back.” The chilling voice sends a spike of dread right through me, from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes.

  I want to scoot away from him. I would have thought he’d leave me in the paddock to die a slow death. Then I recall him telling me not to close my eyes. Perhaps I was dreaming that. Did I also dream up the kiss?

  Something wet is across my eyes, and I flinch away from the touch. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss.

  I hear a huff of breath. “It’s only a wet washcloth.”

  “Why do you care? Don’t you want to put a bullet in my back?” I bite back. My throat scratches, which brings on a coughing fit. Seconds later, a bottle is at my lips, and I turn my head away.

  “It’s water, you stupid girl.” Annoyance is etched in his voice.

  “For all I know it’s poison… just like you.” I desperately want that drink, but I’d rather be back in my cell drinking the bottled water or even the water from the sprinkler on the ceiling. Not receiving care from this villain.

  “If you were anyone else, you’d be dead by now. Be grateful.” His words echo around the room.

  “Dead!” I make an attempt to sit up, but I’m pushed back down. “You’re gutless that’s what you are.” I laugh and pull the cloth away from my eyes. I attempt to open them again, and this time I succeed. Things around me are still blurry, but I don’t miss the tall, sculpted figure standing beside the gurney.

  I’m back in the room of pain. Last time I was here, he sliced my feet.

  “You’ll learn your place soon enough.” After he says those words, I feel a sharp prick to my arm. I’m coherent enough to sense something gliding down my face gently, with care.

  Is it him? I lean into what I assume is his touch, as I’m claimed by the white fogginess once again.

  Give up…

  Those words sound so tantalizing. Give up this life, this family, and my continuous struggle to survive. No person on this earth should have to live like this.

  A trip to the hospital happened today. My father keeps with his weapon of choice—the knife. Since using it on me last time, he’s taken to it more regularly.

  What lies are
they telling the hospital? It isn’t the first time I’ve been there. The desire to end it all is so strong. My body’s tired of always trying fight. My mind’s exhausted from constantly being on alert. I am sick of fighting,

  After the same doctor had patched me up, he watched me. It looked like he wanted to say something, but his questions never left his mouth.

  My mother, at no time, left the room.

  When I finally caught the eye of the doctor, his eyes didn’t leave mine, and he mouthed to me “Are you okay?”

  I shrugged. I wanted to cry out for help. I wanted to be taken away from these monsters. They were seasoned liars. Yes, we’d had the police called to our home, and when that happened, they had me doing the dishes and told me never to turn around. Even when the officers asked to see my face, I had to assure them I was okay. It hurt when they walked away.

  I always did as I was told. I knew what was good for me.

  On our drive home, I had the lecture from mother. “You brought this on yourself. Everything that happens to you is your fault.” She paused and looked over at me while we waited at a red light, I felt her eyes on me burning like lasers. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, so I kept my head leaning against the window. I stared out of the windscreen. I watched all these cars around me. They had a mixture of families, couples, young kids, who had just gotten their licenses. And the one thing that stood out to me was… they all seemed happy. Why can’t I be happy?

  I was sure families fought, and parents spanked their kids when they needed it, but why was I living in this hell? Was God punishing me for something I’d done?

  I watched the people walking the streets, chatting with their friends. I desperately wanted that. If only I could get away from these monsters.

  Since getting home from the hospital, I’ve been locked in the dark room for who knows how long. I am sure it isn’t still the same day, though. I hadn’t even had time to replenish my stash of food from my last visit in here. The dirt floor seems to collect water when it rains, and it’s been raining on and off since we arrived back from the hospital. Now, I am sitting in slushy brown mud.

  At least I’ve learned quickly to fend for myself and to manage my survival.

  Although, right now, I want to give up. Throw it all away, my life—if you could even call this a life.

  End it all. To take away my pain and loneliness.

  Next chance I get I am so done.

  I can’t take any more.

  I watch her body go limp after I inject her with a fast-working sedative. This girl will be my undoing. I have something new stirring within my veins, and I’m not sure what it is.

  I want to know more about her, but I can’t show weakness, or she could use that against me.

  I wonder if I could get her to divulge stuff to me if I write her another letter. As she leans into my hand while I trace the silkiness of her skin, desire sparks inside of me.

  I’m not sure I can kill this girl.

  She has warped my sense of punishment, and I only want to make her feel good now. The memory of her lips on mine twists my stomach in a good way. I want more. I want my hands to claim her body as my own. Her fighting has shown me that no matter what’s thrown at you, you can change your path.

  I leave her lying in the operation room. Stepping out, I’m in the basement. Battle wages within me… Do I put her back in her cell or place her in the upstairs room?

  I shake my head furiously. What the hell am I thinking? This isn’t the family way. Turning around to where she lies on the gurney, I scoop her up in my arms and take her now limp body back to her cell. Gently, I place her down on the tattered mess on the floor. I screw my face up at the smell that wafts through my mask. Because none of the other girls have lived this long, I’ve never had to deal with continuously emptying the bathroom bucket. But because I’ve kept her longer, I’m forced to do it.

  My fingers remove the hair that has fallen over her beautiful eyes. What am I going to do?

  My head continues the battle it’s been having with itself since I first decided to let her live. Turning around, I leave the filthy room. I take one last glance at the beauty who lies there looking peaceful. Like she doesn’t have a care in the world. That all changed the moment I entered her life.

  Slowly, I make my way up the stairs leading back to the house area. I set to work getting her a tray of food. Another bowl of beef stew, a bottle of water, and this time I’m going to add something sweet. I find a box of Twinkies and place two on the tray. Not the most appetizing meal, but it’s not meant to be. Even though she should already be dead and her family in mourning, I need to figure out what made me miss that shot I’ve made a number of times. As a last thought, I add some bandages and antiseptic for her wounds.

  I would like her to trust me. I need her to tell me why she fights so hard, and have her open up to me. I take some paper and a pen, placing it neatly on the tray.

  I have a plan to get her to tell me more. It all starts now.

  Another day alone in my cage. The sun shines brightly outside and every now and then I’ll hear the singing of birds. I wonder how far out of the city I am. My eyes fall on my dirty dress. This is the second one I’ve been dressed in, but it too is now covered in blood. My own.

  What I wouldn’t give to walk around outside—to feel the heat of the sun’s rays touching my skin. My captor has placed cleaning items for the cuts on my feet by the little door which the tray of food comes through, which surprises me. When I apply the alcohol cleaner, a hiss escapes my lips. The sting shoots pain up my leg. I keep going, putting up with each stab of pain until they’re clear of grime.

  With my feet now cleaned and dressed, I dig into my usual menu. I gag at the thought of eating another spoonful of the brown mush.

  Just to piss him off, I throw it at the wall outside of the bars. Suck on that! Perhaps he’ll clean out this filthy cell as well.

  I’ve been living in this filth for, I think, fourteen days now. Since he’s been feeding me more often, I have much more strength than I did at the start. I’m pretty sure that’s not what he did with his other girls—basically, he starved them so they couldn’t fight back. What makes me so different?

  The pen and paper don’t go unnoticed either. What? Does he want another hateful letter? I’ll be happy to give him that, I think, as I smile to myself.

  Today, there’s also something sweet on the tray—Twinkies. I’ve actually never had them before. Suzie has always been a home baker, and of course, my parents never allowed me them. They’d have seen them as a treat, which was something I was never allowed. Unwrapping it, I put it up to my nose, taking in the smell. It smells like a sweet cake. My mouth waters, and my taste buds tingle. I sink my teeth into it, and a groan escapes me straight away. It tastes so much better than I’d thought it would. A million times better than the mush I’ve been eating. I inhale the Twinkies so quickly that I get a small pain in my stomach. My damn stomach has been playing up since I’ve been starved, cramps even invading my sleep. Nothing I do gets rid of them.

  Perhaps, I’ll throw that out at him, I think with a giggle.

  I eye the bucket. The idea mulls around in my head. It sure would get his attention.

  I glance up at the camera in the corner of the room. “How about a clean room? That wouldn’t go astray,” I shout, hoping that he’s most likely listening and watching. “And how about something to settle my stomach that you’ve stuffed up? While you’re at it… get me something other than this sickening mush. And I want more sweets,” I yell, placing my orders to the camera. Let’s see what he comes back with.

  Leaning against the wall, I take the pen and paper, pondering over what I should write. I’ve spent most of my life writing. Keeping a diary when I was younger really helped me push through all those times that were a challenge. I’m not sure even what’s written in most of them now, but there’s one that sticks in my mind so clearly that it haunts me. I’m glad no one will ever read them. I put them away
in a safe place.

  Swirling the pencil in between my fingers, it hits me.

  Dear Captor,

  What do you see when you look in the mirror?

  When I look into those black eyes, I see darkness and hate, especially toward me. Yet, I feel there’s a story behind them. You’re torn about something. My guess would be me, but maybe something else as well.

  I don’t care what you do to me. I’ll never give up.

  So good luck.

  Sincerely,

  Elenore

  I fold the paper up and slip it back on the tray. Slowly, I crawl back to bed, collapsing onto it. I miss my home. I want my bed, much better food, and of course, to see Suzie. She must be going crazy. I can imagine her annoying the police, trying to get some answers.

  Are they going to search my apartment? My stomach plummets. What if they find my diaries and the gun? I hope I’ve managed to make the fixed wall look like it was already there. When and if I get out of here I will destroy those books, and that gun will be gone as well. I’m not even sure why I kept them. I guess they were a part of me, and I needed a reminder of who I didn’t want to be again.

  Closing my eyes, I think of the lady in my dreams. In the first one she was blurry, but in the second one, something about her seemed so familiar. Hell, she even looked very similar to me, but she wasn’t my mother. No, my mother was never kind like that. I don’t think I ever witnessed a smile as bright as the sun like the lady in my dream had as she watched over and played with her child. Why hadn’t my own mother treated me like that?

  Why have these dreams never happened before? Perhaps the drama of what I’ve been going through has sparked something that’s been lost in my memory, blocked. I wish I could get more answers. I need to know what this all means.