xi. The Box

The girl had been half-starved…
She smelled of sex, blood…
A slow destruction or hope, a slipping away…

Reese knew she was going to die here – she was merely waiting for her last breath to pass over broken, bruised lips…

That's when he'd told her.

Her brother – had given up.
To him…she was gone.

"And now, angel face, comes the fun part…"
Placing the blame.

Everyone thought it was Jericho, anyway, since he was the only one saying she could still be alive.

She wanted to hold him then, even more than ever…
He knew something was wrong with this.

But…he was going to pin the blame on him anyway.
Reese's shirt, once a gorgeous dark green peasant blouse, was now nothing more than a few bloody shreds of fabric, and now…
Stuffed in the bottom of Jericho's footlocker.

"Someone will find them, eventually…"

He was so sure of that, so sure that his plan was flawless…
So sure – that he was being careless, only locking the closet door.
Not binding her hands and feet quite as tightly…

True, she was weak, and true, there was no real suspicion that she was here…
But even…by accident – someone might find her.