“And one of the big baddies ran the town of Woodbury, Georgia.”
His foot slammed onto the brake, the force squeezing me against the seat belt and causing my bladder to nearly explode all over the seat. A horn blared as a car zoomed past us.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“Give me a minute.”
Less than a minute was all it took for him to slam his foot on the gas and swing a U-turn back the way we came.
“Okay…”
“Too many people.”
“Oh, what, you think some dinky town with one shithole motel isn’t going to remember the one new customer they’ve had in a month? That versus a town that is constantly revolving in population? Seriously, which one looks more suspicious?”
Shut the fuck up, you idiot!
Was I really arguing with my captor over where he stayed?
Yes, I was.
He turned to look at me, and my eyes went wide.
But it wasn’t just for the less suspicious avenue. The more people, the more chance I had to get away. Then again, also more people who could die in my escape attempt.
He didn’t respond but kept driving. It took about forty-five minutes to arrive at the next town he picked, oddly or aptly named Woodland. Old, dilapidated, and empty were pretty good words to describe the decrepit main thoroughfare.
“Do you have an obsession with wood?” I asked as we pulled up to the barely standing Woodland Motel. The second O was dangling from the sign, barely attached, and the L was missing, only a shadow to show it was once there in the first place.
After putting the car in park, he reached into the back seat and threw some things on my lap. “Put those on.” He got out of the car and leaned back in. “Stay.”
I looked down at my shoes and scrub pants. The tiny bits of blood splatter stared back at me. There was no way I was putting them back on. I didn’t want the reminder of all that happened on my body again. Besides, I really needed to pee, and another piece of clothing in my way was not going to help my predicament.
I threw them behind me and rubbed my hands against each other, trying to get their feel off me.
From the outside, the motel looked as bad if not worse than the last one, and just as seedy. Run down, not updated, slowly decaying with around ten rooms all in a row. Shingles were missing from the roof, the gutters bent and mangled. Paint chipped from nearly every piece of wood, while grass and weeds sprouted through the cracks of the sidewalk and even spots on the gravel parking lot.
Six stalked back to the car, a fiery ball of destructive energy. At least, that was what he looked like to me.
“I told you to put your clothes on,” he snarled at me as he pulled me from the car.
“There’s no one around to see me half-naked anyway,” I said as I tried to yank my arm away.
Futile attempt. I wasn’t going anywhere, especially not without shoes. With what I noticed was an always watchful eye, Six pulled the bags from the back of the car. He handed me a few, light ones of course, and I slowly made my way across the gravel to the sidewalk while he unlocked the room—number 4 this time.
As soon as we were through the door, I tossed the bags onto the bed and flew to the bathroom.
I stepped in and flicked on the light, jumping back as a scream popped out and I nearly peed right there. “Shit!”
It was the first time I’d seen myself and the brown dye in full effect. The color really made my blue eyes pop, but my hair being anything other than my strawberry blonde had always been a rare Halloween occurrence and of my own volition. Forced upon me like that, and it was like I was someone else.
I turned to slam the door shut, but Six reached out and grabbed the edge.
“Door stays open,” he said in an almost lifeless voice.
I heaved a sigh and stepped to the toilet, lifting the sides of the large T-shirt and hooking my thumbs in my panties. Just before I pulled them down I glanced toward the door and the psycho pervert watching me.
“Do you mind?”
His jaw ticked as he let go of the door and went to do whatever, leaving me to finally pee in peace.
With a thankfully emptied bladder, I looked around and was happy to find the bathroom to be a small improvement from the previous.
Small.
Minute.
Okay—they had better water, so it had less of an overall shade of gross brown. Still, years of lacking upkeep didn’t do the tiny room any favors.
Hope sprang up in me for the briefest of moments when I noticed a window, but was shot down almost as fast. The window was tiny with obscure glass, but even if I was able to get it open enough to squeeze through, the shadow of metal bars on the exterior squashed any potential it held as an escape route.