The Detour by S. A. Bodeen Page B

How could he stand to be so close to it?
    There was a faint rapping. How had I even heard it over the deluge? I cracked open the door enough to see him pounding on the window.
    As soon as he noticed me, a grin spread across his face. He waved: one quick flat slice of his hand through the air. Then he disappeared.
    Gone. He was gone.
    I ran to the bed and grabbed a pillow. Back in the bathroom, I slammed the door, dulling the music only slightly. He’d left me with that sound, that sound so violent it vibrated through my body. I closed the toilet lid and dropped the pillow on top of it, then got down on my knees. I bent over, lay my left ear on the pillow, then pressed a towel to my right ear, and cradled that side of my head with my arm.
    But the sound still trembled through my skin and kept my heart pounding so that I couldn’t even think. Not that I wanted to think.
    Because when I did, the only thing that bounced about in my head was this: How many ways would these people come up with to torture me? And what could I have possibly done to deserve it?

 
    {13}
    I WAS SO exhausted that I couldn’t do anything but lie there, feeling the noise burrow into my body. My back and legs began to cramp up. But I didn’t want to move. Uncovering my ears even for a second was out of the question. My lower back began to scream, and my bad shoulder was killing me. I had to sit up. I had to—
    Silence.
    I was afraid to believe it. Slowly, I lifted up my arm and pushed aside the towel on that ear.
    My ears rang. My head ached. But there was no more music.
    Was it a trick? Would he turn it back on as soon as I thought it was over? Toy with me until I was more of a wreck than I already was?
    I tensed up, ready to flop back down to protect my ears.
    Click!
    Was the music a distraction? Had he found another way to get the door open?
    I sat up and crawled to the bathroom door. My legs were sore from being bent for so long.
    He couldn’t get in. I wouldn’t let him.
    I held my breath, braced myself for his shoving his way through the door. I should have gone out and gotten my weapon. Why the hell didn’t I?
    â€œYou can come out; I turned that crap off.”
    Peg.
    The breath whooshed out of me.
    I was actually glad to hear her voice. Yes, she was my enemy, but I was pretty confident she wasn’t capable of …
    Well, I’d rather tolerate anything she dished out than whatever that boy had in store for me. I realized that for the first time, I thought of Peg as my protector instead of my captor. I knew it was dangerous thinking. But maybe it would keep me alive.
    I turned the knob and opened the door.
    Peg stood there in a blue-flowered dress that revealed her figure. Her hair was up in a bun. Swear to God, if she hadn’t been the reason I was stuck in that basement, she could have been a normal person, back from church. Someone who baked pies for the potluck and watched the babies in the nursery.
    She said, “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
    Was she apologizing?
    Because she didn’t seem all that remorseful. In fact, she seemed kind of smug.
    Not really expecting her to answer me, I asked, “Who is he?”
    She shook her head, like it was inconsequential. “My cousin. He lives … around here. Helps me out now and then.”
    Her cousin?
    â€œHe dragged my car in.”
    I wasn’t asking.
    â€œAnd cut it up.” She shrugged. “He’s good for things like that.”
    I didn’t want to know what he was bad for. Mustering my confidence, I announced, “I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you want.”
    â€œReally? You’re fine with him torturing me?” Heat rushed up my face, and I raised my voice. “Because there will be a reckoning for this. There will.”
    Peg shrugged. “He’s harmless.” She held out a white bag that I hadn’t noticed in