*MATURE CONTENT* I fell to my knees before her. She couldn't even look at me. I was absolutely lost without her. I kissed the insides of her wrists over the tattoos that were etched in my handwriting.
"I only want two things in this world-you and u...
The very thought of it makes me wanna puke and I haven't eaten in several hours.
His voice still makes my skin crawl. God, my poor baby is probably being tortured right now. How did they get to him?! Where did he wander off to?!
I dry heave over the sink.
Get your shit together, Nikki.
Since my security was distracted looking for Harry, they clearly weren't looking out for me either. I'm the queen of slipping past security with almost fifteen years of experience. Being short also has its perks when trying to be sneaky.
The warehouse isn't far from here. I haven't been inside it since I was fifteen. It was abandoned then and I'm surprised to find it's still this hideous forgotten building. Modern businesses and homes have been built around it. It sticks out like a sore thumb now.
Good.
The police won't have any trouble finding it.
I hide my phone behind a thorny bush after texting Lars my location and to call 999 if he doesn't want to lose his bloody job. He did a good job keeping tabs on me, so if he sends the emergency services before I murder someone he'll officially be on lockdown with Harry.
After this, Harry most definitely needs a viking bodyguard.
God, I'm so fucking scared.
My hands shake as I push open the squeaky metal door. If they touched even one hair on his precious head, I'm going to go apeshit. I'm scared...not of Jeff or his rapist sicko of a brother, but of what I'll do to them if they hurt my Harry.
They want crazy? I'll show them fucking crazy.
I hear what sounds like a crying girl and I'm caught off guard. Did they take someone else, too?
It sounds all too familiar, though. A creepy suspicion crawls up my spine the further I walk into the warehouse. There's a projection of a video from floor to ceiling on the wall at the very end of the building—highlights of my times in this very location with my manipulative and psychotic English professor.
The girl crying and screaming was me, albeit a much younger naïve me.
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I stare almost dumbfounded that someone is this demented to have ever done this. The act in itself is heinous enough. I was unaware that he was recording me until only recently.
I'm not the same person I was then. For a moment it's like watching him rape someone else. I know it happened, but the details have blurred over time. My brain protected me from my most traumatic experiences after I lost my brother. This is what I learned from hypnosis therapy. The only trauma I allowed myself to be lucid over was my father's sudden rejection of me when he had once been my entire world.
