Delivery Girl

Chapter 7

So super sorry for the late update... To make up for it I'm writing a longer chapter than usual. So hope you guys LOVE it!

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I never noticed how odd my eyes are. Even when they were blue, still. They were an odd shape. The broken mirror in front of me, although it was split into a spiderweb of shards, I can see multiple piercing green eyes stare at me. The contacts make my eyes itch. But he says I shouldn't touch them or he'll kill me. And I don't think he was joking. My skin looks dip-dyed in white-yellow dye and I look like a walking art project gone wrong. The ends of my hair flip out and in different ways in thin locks. I touch my cracked and cratered lips. They don't feel like lips. They feel like old scabs. They hurt.

I turn around and stare at the cloths laid and folded in a perfect square. Dark colored skinny jeans with a few rips (obviously hollister jeans), a white t-shirt with yellow and blue flowers running up the right side, and a velvet red pea coat. To the side of the pile was a real bra, and a pair of white socks. On the floor, was deliah's boots. Light brown.

Kat wasn't lying. He does buy us nice things. But treats us like trash. I raised my eyebrow in thought looking at the cloths. I wondered why he didn't just hire us. Instead of force us. But that was another war to battle. And this was a big one to accomplish.

I run my fingers through my short hair and it feathers back down to my jaw. I pull on the bra, then the shirt, next the jeans. The socks feel warm. Like someone just pulled them out of the dryer. But I wasn't complaining. My feet felt like ice cubes melting against the warm socks. I stare at the coat. It looks so inviting, yet hazardous. I pick it up and slide it on. There is something in the inside pocket.

A small plastic bag.

And a piece of torn crumpled paper.

The bag, contains a thin white powder.

The piece of paper, with an address.

48 Franklins Ave

8:00 am.

Back alley

Don't be Late Abigail

A shudder runs down my spine and a harsh weight gathers on my chest and my stomach wrenches. I don't want to go. Im lost in the building. In what looks like a small walk-in closet. I open the white door. It's the bathroom. With the bathtub. It still reeks of bleach. My raw nose burns again. Where was the big room? Where we all were tied up? I didn't want to go back there. But I had to find Kat. Was she still tied up? My mind aches to think about the ropes and the duct tape. The weight on my chest gets heavier.

"K-Kat...?" I screech. Someone has to hear me.

"Who's there?" A quiet voice calls out.

"Kat?" I ask.

"I'm Gracie. Kat is in the Holding Room." She says. Gracie... She is only 13. I had forgotten that.

"Oh, How do I get to this place? On the paper?" I say, I feel weak. Asking a 13 year old for help. I was 16. I could do this... Who was I kidding. I can't do this.

"The vent. There is an old ladder in the empty room through the doorway. Climb up it, push out the vent, then close it. Another ladder will be right there to go to the ground." She says.

"Oh wow... Um, how long have you been doing this?"

"4. 4 times out."

"How come you came back? Like, why not just leave? Go into hiding. Go back to your family."