Too Late

Ringing.

I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears. The sting of liquid in my eyes—on my face. I cover my ears with my hands and squeeze my eyes shut.

No, that did not just happen.

No, no, no.

I hear the guy fall to the floor and I have to step to the side to get my left foot out from under him. “No, Asa. No, no, no,” I repeat, my hands still over my ears, my eyes still shut.

“He probably thought you were a whore, Sloan,” he says, grabbing my arm. “Can you blame him?”

Asa yanks me forward and I trip over the guy on the floor. Asa doesn’t let go of my arm as he drags me to my feet and yanks me toward the door.

My eyes are still closed. I think I might be screaming, because my throat is stinging, but I can’t tell if that’s me or the ringing in my ears. I’m suddenly lifted up into the air and thrown over his shoulder.

He carries me down the stairs and the last ten seconds replay over again in my head.

This is not happening.

Seconds later, he lays me down on a bed. I’m still too scared to open my eyes. Several moments pass and I can feel my chest pulling for air. I gasp between tears as Asa’s voice comes at me from inches above me.

“Sloan, look at me.”

I slowly open my eyes and look up at him. He’s kneeling over me on the bed, touching my face, smoothing back my hair. There are specks of blood on his face—across his neck.

I look into his eyes and his pupils have overtaken everything. Two huge black irises stare back down at me, and it sends a shiver over my already trembling body.

“Sloan,” he whispers, still smoothing his hand over my hair. I try to look around the room, but he grabs my jaw and forces my eyes back to his. “Baby, I have some really bad news.”

I don’t think my heart can take whatever it is he’s about to say. I’m afraid if I open my mouth to respond to him, I’ll puke.

“I know about you and Luke.”

My heart crashes to a halt at that name. I fight back the flood of tears attempting to return. He called him Luke.

How does he know his name is Luke?

I muster every ounce of strength I can find and I use it to play dumb. “Who is Luke?”

His eyes scroll over my face. His pupils contract and then expand again. A slow smile spreads across his face and then he presses his lips to my forehead. “That’s what I thought,” he whispers, pulling away from me. “It’s not your fault, Sloan. He brainwashed you. Tried to turn you against me. But his name isn’t even Carter, baby. It’s Luke. Ask him yourself.” He slips his hand under my back and pushes me up until I’m sitting on the bed.

I’m suddenly face-to-face with my worst nightmare.

Luke is sitting at a desk chair, his hands cuffed behind his back. The agony on his face speaks volumes of what he thinks about our predicament.

No.

Asa is watching me, waiting for my reaction. I try to control it—to hide my fear, my heartache, my own agony. But knowing we’re both at the hands of Asa right now leaves little strength for pretending.

Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.

I repeat these words in my head while Luke speaks the same silent words to me with his eyes.

That’s what Asa wants. A reaction. I do whatever I can to not give him the one he expects. He’s standing now, so I look up at him with the most innocent expression I’m capable of right now. “Asa, what are you talking about? Why is Carter handcuffed?”

He stares down at me like he’s disappointed. Like he expected me to come out and say I knew Luke was undercover, or in the least, that I’m sleeping with him. He smirks. “You still think I’m stupid, Sloan?” His eyes slowly slide over to Luke. “So I guess it’s okay if I do this then, huh?” He lifts his gun and strides toward him, just like he did in the second before he shot the guy upstairs.

I immediately jump up, grab his arm and scream, “No! Asa, No!”

He doesn’t shoot him.

Instead, the hand that’s holding his gun swings around and hits me so hard, I fly back onto the bed. He didn’t even need me to admit what was happening between Luke and me. My reaction just gave it away.

He’s on top of me now, gripping my wrists, pressing his forehead to the side of my head. “Sloan, no,” he says, his voice instantly strained. “No, no, baby.” He pulls back and his eyes are full of hurt. “He was inside you? You let him inside you?”

I’m crying too hard to admit it. I’m crying too hard to deny it.

His entire face pulls into a grimace, as if he thinks this is the absolute worst thing that could possibly be happening right now. He just shot a guy upstairs, and he’s more upset that I might have cheated on him?

I turn my head to the side and squeeze my eyes shut.

This is it.

This is how I’m going to die.

Asa buries his head in the crevice of my neck and shoulder and mutters, “I can’t remember if I locked the door.”

When he crawls off me, I try to process what he just said, but it was so random and my pulse is racing too fast to process thoughts, I don’t even know what to think. As he’s walking toward the door, I turn my head to find Luke. His hands are cuffed behind his back around the desk chair. But he quickly stands, slipping his arms up and over the back of the chair, and then he sits down again, this time with his arms directly behind his back without the barrier of the chair. It all happens so fast, it takes me a second to realize that he’s not even cuffed to the chair.

Asa must not realize this or he’d never turn his back to him.

My eyes flick to the door and Asa is locking it. My eyes flick back to Luke’s and he’s shaking his head, warning me to stay calm. He can’t bring his thumb to his lip, but he’s biting it, running his teeth across it.

I tug at a strand of my hair, just as Asa rests his back against the bedroom door. He places his gun flat against his cheek and looks straight at Luke. “I already told you about the first time I fucked her,” he says. “It’s your turn.”





My Dad is standing at the window, watching for the men.

He watches for them all the time. He tells me if they find out where we live, they’ll shoot him. Then they’ll shoot my mom and then they’ll shoot me. He says after they shoot us, the men probably won’t even tell the police. They’ll leave us all here and our bodies will rot inside this house and the mice and roaches will eat them.

“Asa!” he yells from the window, pointing at the front door. “Check the door again!”

I already checked it for him two times, but he never believes me that it’s locked. He says, “Check the door again,” every time he looks out the window.

I don’t know why some days he thinks the men are coming for him and some days he doesn’t care. I slide off the couch and crawl to the door. My legs work, so I could walk to the door just fine, but sometimes I’m scared if the men show up, they’ll shoot me, so I crawl when I pass the big window.

I check the door. “It’s locked.”

My Daddy looks at me and smiles. “Thank you, son.”

I hate it when he calls me son. The only time he calls me son is when he’s scared of the men who are going to shoot him and then my mom and then me. When he’s scared, he’s really nice to me and makes me help him do things, like push the couch against the door and unplug all the things that have electricity. I’ve been helping him a lot today and he keeps calling me son. I like it better when he doesn’t call me anything and he just sits in his chair all day.

I crawl back to the couch, but before I make it there, I feel my dad squeeze my arm. “They’re here, Asa!” he whispers. He pulls me to my feet and says, “You have to go hide!”

My heart beats real fast inside my chest and I nod.

My dad is scared of the men a lot, but they’ve never actually shown up before. I look out the big window while he pulls me across the living room, but I don’t see anyone. I don’t see the men.

My dad pulls me out the back door and down the steps. He kneels and grabs my shoulders. “Asa, hide under the house and stay there until I come get you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to.” It’s dark under there and once I saw a scorpion.

“You don’t have a choice!” he whispers real loud. “Don’t come out until I come for you or they’ll kill all of us!”

He pushes me toward the opening that leads under the house. I fall to my knees and my hands sink into the mud. I don’t look behind me. I crawl as far as I can so the men don’t see me.

I pull my knees up to my chest and I try to be quiet when I cry so the men don’t hear me.