her family, but in the end she had to do what Chad could not.
Abigail. She was twenty years old. A junior in college. A 3.7 average, captain of the soccer team at some all girls' school up in Massachusetts. She and Paulina barely spoke. Maybe once every few months, and usually only when Abby's checking account ran low. Abby was beautiful, even if sometimes this budding young woman seemed like a stranger to her own mother.
You're a sick monster, Paulina said, closing the phone.
Don't be like that. We're almost there. .
The driver took the FDR to the Triboro Bridge, pulling off once they'd arrived in Queens.
He skidded around an off-ramp, took several turns in a neighborhood Paulina did not recognize, and slowly eased into an alleyway bookended by two buildings that looked like they were about to collapse. Paulina could see nobody, hear nobody. She was all alone with this man. Through the rain and desolation, nobody would hear her if she screamed.
The driver exited the car and walked around to the backseat. Paulina locked the door from the inside. She heard a click as the driver unlocked it with his remote. Before she could lock it again, he threw open the door, grabbed Paulina by her coat and spun her into the mud.
Wet slop splashed into her face. Paulina felt her eyes grow warm, anger rising inside of her. She launched herself at the man, her nails bared to rake at his face, but he merely grabbed her by the neck, held it for one horrible moment as he stared into her eyes.
Then Paulina felt him press something against her side, and suddenly she felt a scorching pain worse than anything she'd ever experienced. Her body twitched as she screamed. She lost control of her bladder, then dropped facedown into the mud. Paulina looked up to see the man holding a Taser, smiling.
I wouldn't do that again. I can smell your piss. .
Paulina could feel hot tears pouring down her face. She was on her hands and knees, caked in grime, and her body felt like it had just been plugged into an electrical socket. She slowly got to her knees, managed to stand up, her breath harsh and ragged.
What do you want? she cried. Money? Sex? She shuddered at the last word, praying he didn't, praying there was something else, something that wouldn't leave a scar. Pain she could take, but that kind of pain would never leave.
The man shook his head. Holding the Taser, he reached inside his overcoat, rain beading down the dark fabric. The water spilled down his forehead into his eyes, but the man who called himself Chester hardly seemed to notice.
He removed something from his pocket and held it out to Paulina. She focused her eyes, then gasped.
It was a picture of her daughter, Abby. She was at the beach, wearing a cute pink bikini, standing in front of a massive hole she must have dug in the sand. The photo looked fairly recent, within the last year or so. Abigail's eyes were bright and cheerful, her skin a golden brown.
Abby. She looked so joyful.
Her daughter.
Where did you get that? Paulina yelled.
Do you really need to ask? I had a dozen others to choose from. You really should tell her to be careful of what photos she posts on the Internet. .
You're a freak, she spat. What the hell do you want? .
I want you to listen to me very carefully, the man said. He stepped closer, still holding out the photograph. Water droplets landed on the photo but he didn't seem to care. A long time ago, I fought in a war. I fought alongside men and women who were like my own blood. Then, one day, we found ourselves trapped. There was one man I fought with who was like family, closer to me than anyone. He was like a daughter. A mother. A brother. .
Paulina shivered.
That day, we found ourselves fighting for our lives. And all of a sudden, out of nowhere, someone throws a grenade at us. I was out of harm's way, but the grenade went off right beside this man I cared about. I remember looking at him after the smoke cleared. He blinked his
Abigail. She was twenty years old. A junior in college. A 3.7 average, captain of the soccer team at some all girls' school up in Massachusetts. She and Paulina barely spoke. Maybe once every few months, and usually only when Abby's checking account ran low. Abby was beautiful, even if sometimes this budding young woman seemed like a stranger to her own mother.
You're a sick monster, Paulina said, closing the phone.
Don't be like that. We're almost there. .
The driver took the FDR to the Triboro Bridge, pulling off once they'd arrived in Queens.
He skidded around an off-ramp, took several turns in a neighborhood Paulina did not recognize, and slowly eased into an alleyway bookended by two buildings that looked like they were about to collapse. Paulina could see nobody, hear nobody. She was all alone with this man. Through the rain and desolation, nobody would hear her if she screamed.
The driver exited the car and walked around to the backseat. Paulina locked the door from the inside. She heard a click as the driver unlocked it with his remote. Before she could lock it again, he threw open the door, grabbed Paulina by her coat and spun her into the mud.
Wet slop splashed into her face. Paulina felt her eyes grow warm, anger rising inside of her. She launched herself at the man, her nails bared to rake at his face, but he merely grabbed her by the neck, held it for one horrible moment as he stared into her eyes.
Then Paulina felt him press something against her side, and suddenly she felt a scorching pain worse than anything she'd ever experienced. Her body twitched as she screamed. She lost control of her bladder, then dropped facedown into the mud. Paulina looked up to see the man holding a Taser, smiling.
I wouldn't do that again. I can smell your piss. .
Paulina could feel hot tears pouring down her face. She was on her hands and knees, caked in grime, and her body felt like it had just been plugged into an electrical socket. She slowly got to her knees, managed to stand up, her breath harsh and ragged.
What do you want? she cried. Money? Sex? She shuddered at the last word, praying he didn't, praying there was something else, something that wouldn't leave a scar. Pain she could take, but that kind of pain would never leave.
The man shook his head. Holding the Taser, he reached inside his overcoat, rain beading down the dark fabric. The water spilled down his forehead into his eyes, but the man who called himself Chester hardly seemed to notice.
He removed something from his pocket and held it out to Paulina. She focused her eyes, then gasped.
It was a picture of her daughter, Abby. She was at the beach, wearing a cute pink bikini, standing in front of a massive hole she must have dug in the sand. The photo looked fairly recent, within the last year or so. Abigail's eyes were bright and cheerful, her skin a golden brown.
Abby. She looked so joyful.
Her daughter.
Where did you get that? Paulina yelled.
Do you really need to ask? I had a dozen others to choose from. You really should tell her to be careful of what photos she posts on the Internet. .
You're a freak, she spat. What the hell do you want? .
I want you to listen to me very carefully, the man said. He stepped closer, still holding out the photograph. Water droplets landed on the photo but he didn't seem to care. A long time ago, I fought in a war. I fought alongside men and women who were like my own blood. Then, one day, we found ourselves trapped. There was one man I fought with who was like family, closer to me than anyone. He was like a daughter. A mother. A brother. .
Paulina shivered.
That day, we found ourselves fighting for our lives. And all of a sudden, out of nowhere, someone throws a grenade at us. I was out of harm's way, but the grenade went off right beside this man I cared about. I remember looking at him after the smoke cleared. He blinked his
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