Juniper, an empath, fights to save two strangers after reality gives way to a hellscape on Earth. When chaos tears apart the city, she settles in with the darkness. Her job as a sex worker makes for easy living, as she can anticipate client emotion...
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Crouched and scared as hell, Ashley Heard cried.
She talked to herself. She held in her pee and thought about letting it go, but then held it, not wanting to sit in her own filth. Lastly, she slept.
When she awoke for the second time, her limbs dragged. She moved to stretch her legs, and it felt like a brigade of fire ants rampaged under her skin. Against her judgment, she yelped out in pain. Her legs spasmed, kicking open the door. Ashley stopped her movements. She listened for any hint of the bad men, but there were none, and that had to be a good sign. But, there also wasn't any hint of her father, either. That was a bad sign.
Only a few hours before, they'd been talking in the car. Her father, Stephen Heard, had warned her they were leaving.
"We're going to the house in Bath."
The news had left Ashley numb. They visited the English city twice every year. Her father's parents had moved there from Nigeria, with Stephen going to college in the States and convincing his parents to follow. They kept their property in the U.K., treating it as a vacation home. When Ashley visited, she played with the neighbor kids around her age. They marveled at her accent, dark hair, and dark skin tone. One boy told her she looked and sounded like a fine bint, whatever that meant.
"For how long?" She could see him in the rear-view mirror, squirming under her scrutiny.
"Um..."
"Dad?" He didn't answer any of her questions directly.
"We're not coming back to the city, Ashley. Too dangerous."
She scooted out of the hole in the wall. The closet and room were undisturbed. The men must have considered a young girl's room worthless. When Ashley peeked inside of her father's gun hold, the image of her father rummaging inside hit her hard.
Stephen had removed a picture frame from the wall. The frame hid a small door as big as her father's hand, which he depressed against the opening. A click, and the door descended vertically. The opening yawned, deep and dark, but she spied what he pulled out: a handgun.
The tiny cavern appeared empty. Peering closer, Ashley saw bills stacked against the far side. Like the bad me, she left the money. Exploring the hallway seemed more important.
Instead of a bloody mess, the hallway was as undisturbed as her room. The luggage sat in the same place by the door, unopened. What inept thieves. Her smug attitude faded after exploring her father's bedroom, the living room, and kitchen. Though they hadn't stayed long, the men collected most of the valuables. The rest of the apartment resembled a carnival after closing time. Clothes, food, and trash carpeted the wooden floors. Every trash can had been overturned. The contents of the fridge had spilled out onto the kitchen floor. What they'd been looking for in there, Ashley didn't know.
In the gloom of the hide-away, Ashley had waited, just like her father instructed. Shouts and laughter rebounded through the hallway. Then grunting, some cheering, and the sound of Gloria cries. Something bad was happening to her.
Her stomach gurgled, and she was grateful for the distraction. Ashley stepped over broken pickle jars, globs of mayonnaise, bits of bread. Fate was kind in leaving an unsmooshed bag of chips at her feet. She scooped it up, shoving handfuls of chips into her mouth. In about two minutes, she emptied half the bag. Then, she stopped. Oh, too much, too fast. The food crept back up. The sink would have done it, but she sprinted for the bathroom. Over the toilet, her mouth released a mighty burp. Magically, her nausea disappeared.
With her hunger and bodily functions under control, Ashley's mind cleared. She needed to find her father. He was either dead, or kidnapped. An abduction seemed unlikely, but he wasn't in any of the rooms. Except for the office she had forgotten to check.
A/N: Tap your finger on the little star if you liked the chapter!
The next writer you follow should be YouCaughtMe. She's amassed a poetry collection entitled I'm Not Okay, with poignant selections like "Silence", "Water", and "Open":
