Chapter Twenty Four

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Pain explodes in my head the second I become aware again. The back of my skull throbs like nobody's business. It feels like someone took a hammer and hit me as hard as they could and then decided it was not enough to hit me once, but continued to do so over and over. I groan and reach up to rub the agonizing pulse point.

But my arms won't move.

I pull at them, hard, but they are frozen in place. Well, not exactly. I can move my fingers. I stretch them and then mold them to the surface they are lying on. Wood. It feels like the arms of a chair. I glance down to see and realize that I can't open my eyes. Panic creeps in and I take a deep breath to calm myself, but find it doesn't work when I can't move my legs or stand up.

Panicking is not good, Mattie, I tell myself and try to remember what happened. Had I been in an accident? Am I lying in a hospital bed right now hooked up to tubes and wires stuck in coma-land? That would be just my luck, especially since I found Sally... oh HOLY CRAP!

Sally. She'd shown me Mary's bike and then... then... I'd heard someone whisper and...THEY HIT ME!  HOLY CRAP!

No, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening. Had the killer nabbed me? Please not that. Not me. I try again to move, but can't. I rotate my arms a little and feel the abrasive texture of a thick rope around my wrists. I'm literally helpless.

Don't panic, Mattie, I tell myself. Calm down, focus. You will get out of this.

But how? A bitter laugh bubbles up. I try taking a few deep breaths and gag. The smell of mildew and stagnant water invades my mouth. Don't throw up! For just a moment I am back in that New Orleans apartment with my Mom, fending off water and the occasional rat that floated in. I hated that place. You're not there, I reassure myself and shove that memory to the back of my mind. I have worse things to concentrate on right now.

"Hello?" I call out, grateful that my mouth hasn't been taped shut. I am not sure why, but then the killer hadn't taped up Mary's mouth either. It was only Sally I saw with tape over her mouth now that I think about it. He hadn't taped up any of the other kid's mouths. Strange.

Silence greets me. I expect that anyway. Psycho killers tend to play with their victims. At least they do in the TV shows I love to watch. I listen instead, but the only thing I hear is the sound of my own breathing. There's a slight shuffling off to the right of me and I flinch. It's a sound I know well.

Rats. I hate rats. When I was seven, my foster family decided that I needed to learn to do as I was told. They locked me in the basement for two days with no shoes or socks. It was dark, cold, and infested with those little beady-eyed monsters. For two days, I fought them off, felt them make a meal of me, crawl all over me. I'd had nightmares for years, still do sometimes. The scars on my feet are a constant reminder of them and it's a fear I've never been able to shake. I can hear them now, scuttling back and forth. I can't fight them this time if they decide I'm supper. I'm tied down to a chair and no one knows I'm here. I have never felt so helpless in my entire life.

No. You are not helpless, Mathilda Louise Hathaway. You are stronger than this. I tell myself this over and over, making myself breathe in and out slowly. I calm down and take stock of my situation. Okay, my hands and legs are tied to the chair. I lean forward and much to my amazement, find that I can lean forward. While I might have my appendages tied up, my attacker didn't see fit to strap a rope around my upper chest. This could be good. He'd tied a rope around my chest right at elbow level only to keep my hands and arms from moving. I lean forward as far as possible. Almost! I can almost reach the ropes around my wrists. If I can get to them, I can pull at the ropes around my wrists hard enough with my teeth to loosen them – and pull one of my hands loose.

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