Make Me Remember by Beth Kery

would say what he wants to do to you is worse than death,” he said.
    “Rape?” she whispered uneasily.
    “More than rape. He wants to give you to people who would give you to a lot of men to be raped, Harper. He wants to turn you into prostitute.”
    “I’d never become a prostitute,” she said disbelievingly. “I don’t care if I
was
raped.”
    “They wouldn’t give you any choice. They’d keep you a prisoner. They’d probably get you hooked on drugs, so you’d have to depend on them for your next fix. You’d do whatever they say in order to get it,” he said miserably.
    “I would never—”
    “It doesn’t
matter
what you would or wouldn’t do right this second. You think you can’t get hooked on drugs, when someone is shooting you up without your okay? They want to turn you into a slave, a walking shadow of what you are right now, right here at this moment. I’m
not
going to leave you here alone for Emmitt to find!” He shook her for emphasis.
    “Well, what will we do, then?” she asked desperately after a stunned moment.
    His throat convulsed as he swallowed. Slowly, he began to release her, still holding her loosely. He looked all around them. Harper sensed him bringing himself under control, methodically assessing their situation like the Jake of old.
    “We’ll set up camp when we get to the top of this rise.”
    He looked so set and determined, and her whole body seemed to throb in synchrony with the pain in her foot. She didn’t have any energy left to argue with him, even when he put his arm around her waist, assisting her in her hobble uphill.
    * * *
    A light rain had started by the time they reached the top. The place Jake chose was a dirt clearing beneath an enormous, towering tree. He insisted that Harper sit with her back against the trunk and rest while he set up camp. He used the tarp, two large tree branches, and some twine to make a low tent that would give them cover from the rain. They were situated about fifteen feet from an overlook.
    While Jake went to check the vantage point and scout the area, Harper tenderly tried to remove the tennis shoe from her sore foot. Friction had broken the bandage free. Dried and fresh blood had caked around the wound, but also to her sock and the canvas tennis shoe. Who knew a blister could wreak so much havoc? She pulled the tennis shoe and sock free, wincing. After a dizzying wave of pain passed, she rose from her sitting position, intent on re-dressing the blister despite her exhaustion.
    While she was inside the low tent, sitting on a blanket and pulling out first-aid supplies from a pack, she heard a muted thumping sound outside on the ground.
    “Jake? I’m in here!” she called, twisting around from her sitting position. “See anything?”
    A huge black shadow suddenly blocked the entrance. Harper stared into the face of a bearded, brutal-looking Emmitt Tharp.
    All the fear she’d been holding at bay erupted in her like a volcano. She wasn’t aware of screaming, but the shrill sound reached her ears as she scurried to the rear of the tarp enclosure and the back entrance. Emmitt caught her ankle with huge hands and jerked her toward him as easily as he might a panicked rabbit. Harper struggled, but the only thing she really managed to do was knock the branch support down, making the tarp fall on top of her.
    The next thing she knew, she was on her back and the dark green tarp was whipped off her face. She looked up at Emmitt, who towered over her like a giant, his face nearly covered by a coarse, dark brown hair, his eyes glassy. A horrible smile slanted his lips.
    “Well look what I found,” he said. “Little Red.”
    “No,
Jake
!”
Harper screamed, slapping and punching at Emmitt’s arms and face when he reached down. She might as well have been a pesky fly, the effect she had on him. He hauled her up off the ground so abruptly, she lost her breath. He jerked her around in front of him, her back against his front. One hand