Because Tim had shopped for his little sister.
Riley would have thought she was numb to the cold, nauseous feeling that thinking about Tim shopping for her gave her, but it was back again, full force, and she felt the urge to heave. She stamped it down and picked her way carefully across the half-decimated floor, refusing to consider what made the gnawing little holes in the floorboards. She pressed her ear against the door first and, hearing nothing, slowly turned the knob.
The door was locked.
She jiggled the knob then pounded the door, kicking it with her slippered feet. “Tim! Tim! Let me out of here!”
There was no response on the other side of the door, and Riley rushed to the small window above the bed. She refused to call it “her” bed. The window was narrow and long, with slits of light pouring in through the boards tacked haphazardly on the outside wall. There was no screen on Riley’s side, and most of the window glass had been shattered, but the boards crossed out any opening bigger than Riley’s ring finger.
She turned back to the room, her eyes scanning for anything that could help. The remains of a white dresser were useless, the cheap pressboard crumbling in her hand. The closet doors had been removed and the graffiti in the closet cavity had been hastily painted over. There were only three hangers in the closet, and new clothing, tags still on, hanging on each one. There was a pair of stiff jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a short-sleeved one. There were packages of thick white gym socks, panties, and sports bras in a bag on the bottom of the closet, and set carefully next to that was a pair of knock-off gray Converse in Riley’s size, seven and a half. She shuddered thinking of Tim, wondering what he said when he shopped for her. Did he mention they were for the sister he was planning on stealing?
Her clothes—the clothes she had come in with last night—were nowhere in the room. Neither was her purse. But she wasn’t going to dwell on that. She grabbed the package of socks and shoved a pair on then slid on the sneakers. She refused to touch anything else Tim had bought for her, but she needed the shoes for traction. She gripped the pole the clothes were hanging on and yanked with all her might. It bowed and the wood groaned. She shimmied it from side to side and one side broke through the wall. She was able to yank the thing down then, coming with it, landing with an “oof” on the wood floor.
She heard running footsteps then and the lock tumble on her door. She quickly shoved the pole back in the closet and jumped back into bed, pushing her sneakered feet under the covers and clamping her eyes shut.
Riley heard her door open. Her whole body went stiff when she heard Tim’s shuffling feet come closer. She could feel his hot breath, heady with the scent of strong coffee, brushing over her cheek as he leaned down toward her. He put his hand on her head, and it took everything Riley had not to shirk away, not to cringe as he stroked her hair.
“I’m so happy that you’re home, Janie. We’re going to have so much fun together, just like we used to. I saved you from them, Janie. They are very, very bad people.”
Riley mashed her face into her pillow and bit down hard on her bottom lip. She felt her teeth slip through the skin and tasted her own blood, but it was the only way she could keep her mouth shut. Inside, everything was trembling. Inside, everything was fighting him, was reaching back to her parents, begging their forgiveness.
Please don’t leave me, Mom and Dad. Please don’t leave me here with him.
SEVENTEEN
Tim sat at her bedside for a few minutes more before Riley felt his hand go to her shoulder, gently shaking it.
“Wake up, sleepy head.”
She opened one eye carefully, worried that if she tried to pretend to sleep anymore, Tim might do something awful to her. She blinked and he smiled.
“Are you hungry? I got us breakfast.”
Riley tried out her voice, unsure if she could still speak. “I need to go to the bathroom.” She thought of Tim taking her clothes off and sliding on the stiff new pajamas, and her skin started to itch. “Can I take a shower?”
Tim cocked his head. “You’re not going to try to run away again, are you?”
“No.” She swung her head. “No, I won’t, I promise.”
Tim scrutinized her then slowly stood and went to the closet. “What happened here?”
He looked over his shoulder and Riley shrugged. “Old house, I guess.”
Tim picked up the clothing, mercifully not looking for her shoes. He set the jeans and the short-sleeved shirt on Riley’s bed. He pointed to the bag. “There are underthings in there. I’ll go get you a towel.”