“No we don’t, but we know someone who does.”

Turner winces in pain behind me and I turn to see he has fallen back down on the bed, barely able to keep his eyes open.

              “Turner!” I turn to lean over him as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

              “Turner, stay with me! Come on, baby!” I cry, shaking him ever so lightly.

              “Babe, I would rather fucking die then to give that worthless fucker a dime,” he groans.

“For the love of God, he’s your son and he needs to get to a hospital. What kind of man are you to do this to your child?” I scream.

“I will tell you what kind of man I am, you fucking whore. I am a man who needs money; a man who thrives on inflicting pain on those I hate and I hate this son of a bitch who you call my son. He isn’t my son. He’s his momma’s son. He’s always been his momma’s precious little baby boy. The one who couldn’t walk or talk and cried like a fucking baby every MOTHER. FUCKING. DAY. My son is a man. Always has been since the day he was born and wrapped his fingers around my hand and gripped on tight, unlike this one here who screamed at the top of his lungs just begging to be held. Ain’t no son of mine. Now let’s talk about that money you said you could get me.”

His tall and yet lanky frame comes into the room.

              “Get the hell over here,” he commands, lifting the gun in my direction.

“No!” Turner hollers from behind me. “Leave her alone. I know who she is talking about. Give me a damn phone and I will make it happen, but not until you let her go.”

I shake my head no as I kneel down beside him on the bed.

              “I am not leaving you. No way. Just let me make the phone call. I can do it from right here. I can’t leave you now that I found you, Turner.”

I hold his stare with mine even though he can barely keep his eyes open. He looks so much worse now that the weak early morning sunlight is cascading though the window. Bruises cover his face, neck, and bare arms. His striking green eyes are barely visible as he tries to hold them open.

Seeing exactly how badly Turner needs medical attention pushes me to the farthest point of my endurance, and I have had enough. Someway, somehow, I have got to get my bag out of that truck and get hold of the knife. A lot of good it’s going to do me up against a gun, but it’s the only choice I have, especially after last night’s revelations about Trent.

“Just to be clear, love birds, no one is calling anyone. I know everything about the two of you. I know your brother is a detective and I would bet my life he’s found a way to track your ass down by now. Ain’t no damn way I believe a word your sweet little mouth says. Speaking of sweet little mouths . . . I do believe I need to sample what my offspring finds so delectable about you, don’t cha think?”

Out and out horror pulses through my veins. My body shuts down and all I can feel are the tremors of the utmost fear imagining James touching me anywhere. Closing my eyes firmly, I try and re-group, telling myself to be strong. I don’t open them until I hear Turner’s words garbled in a painful jumbled mess from behind me.

              “Y-you stay the fuck away from her, you worthless cocksucker.”

James tilts his head and laughs, slapping his hands on his knees as if Turner just cracked some sort of funny joke.

              “That’s priceless, boy, coming from you. From where I stand, there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. Your punk ass is lying there half-dead. Your sweet little innocent angel here ain’t so sweet anymore, are you sunshine?”

I’m stricken dumb. He really is a psychopath. My body goes rigid as I whirl around to gauge Turner’s expression upon hearing this revelation. He’s out cold and barely breathing as I watch his chest move up and down little by little.

              “Turner, baby!”

I barely even touch him before James’ next words cause me to jump out of my skin.

              “Now, time to say goodbye, so I reckon you better get your ass over here, girl, unless you want me to finish him off right now.”

I press my hand as delicately as possible against Turner’s cheek, holding it there for a few moments just welcoming any kind of contact with him at all. And when I am jerked away from him by my arm forcibly, Turner’s eyes fly open as he tries to reach for me, but fails. A slew of curse words leave his mouth.

              “You’re going to rot in here, motherfucker, so say good bye to your lovely wife,” he snarls as he pulls me through the door and slams it behind him.

              “Trent! Get your motherfucking ass up now and help me get rid of this bitch. We have to get to Mexico today. Our time is up.”

He gets to the door to Trent’s room and I hear Trent mumble that he’s getting up. Fuck him, the spineless prick. All this time he has lied to me. He said he would do anything to try and save us. He’s just like his father. Worse, even. If this is my last day here, I will make sure he knows exactly how I feel about him.

“Get your slimy hands off of me, you nasty old bastard!”

I squirm and try to break free of his grip on my arm as he drags me ruthlessly down the short hallway.

“Fuck off, cunt.”

He shoves me down on the couch with so much force that I smack my head against the wall. I cry out as loud as I can and scream. I am so sick of being shoved around. I hear Turner yelling from the other room for him to leave me alone.

              “Trent, shut that motherfucker up!”

Please, no!

I am trapped here as this man stands over me with his wandering eyes looking like he wants to have his way with me. That is one thing that will never happen. He will definitely have to kill me first before I let him touch me the way he wants to.

I hear the door to Trent’s room open and then the other one slam shut as I sit there shaking. James is still hovering with his gun pointed directly in my face. It gets eerily quiet for a few beats and then a gun goes off. I scream and jump and try to get up as I kick and claw trying to get to Turner.

“Noooooo! Oh, God. No! Turner!” I scream as regret, sadness, and anger ripple throughout my entire body.

I sink back into the couch, dazed. I don’t want to live if he is dead. All these visions start running through my head of my husband lying there, bleeding to death. I didn’t say ‘I love you’ when I was forced from his room. I want to die right along with him. I have nothing left. That was it. They have broken me and now I don’t care what they do to me. All my fight is gone as I slump back in defeat and cry a loud, soul-piercing cry.

              “Oh my God, he’s gone! What have you people done?”

My hands go into my hair gripping it tightly as I tug and rock myself back and forth. “God, why? Why?” I wail.

Then Trent kneels down in front of me and all I see is red. Everything he has done to my life since he walked off of that damn plane comes flashing before my eyes and I hate him. I hate him so bad that I lunge at him and grab him by the neck. We go tumbling backwards, knocking over the flimsy coffee table which splinters in half.

Trent lands on his back with me on top of him. It doesn’t take much for him to get me to release my hold but not before I have clawed the hell out of him.

“Fucking hell, Clove! Settle down!”

He grabs me by my wrist and pushes me backwards slightly. The look in his eyes is the same look he has given me before. Blank and unreadable.