There’s a string of unintelligible words from what sounds like Sylvester. I’ve no idea if Sawyer is with him or not, but it’s enough to inject another strong dose of adrenaline into my veins.
I pat my hands all around me, feeling fine dirt and what I think is a blanket beneath me. Sitting up further, I continue searching until my hand bumps into something solid. It’s cold and hard, and after a minute, I realize it’s a shovel. I grab onto it and resume, hoping there’s something down here that can provide a light source.
It takes a few more minutes, and coming across several items, I finally find a small gas lantern. It clicks on, barely illuminating more than a couple of inches out.
I’m in a dirt hole with a wooden ladder that leads straight up.
Getting to my feet, I look around, finding myself in a cemetery. There are mounds of dirt spanning across the space, with sticks fashioned into a cross before each one.
Fucking Christ.
It’s hard to breathe as I examine just how many people Sylvester has killed. Were they all hostages? They’ve all clearly fucking died, save for Kacey. Suicide? Or did he kill them when they refused to conform?
Aside from the graves, there’s a bucket in the corner with human waste inside, a small cot with a blanket and flat pillow, a knapsack doll, a first aid kit, water bottles, and several empty plastic bags.
Sylvester must’ve kept Kacey down here at times. Since we’ve arrived, she could be heard only up in the beacon during the day, presumably because she wouldn’t be able to make her presence known as easily and guide us directly to the hatch. Where a fucking cemetery resides.
He knew the ghost stories would lead us to believe that the footsteps from above or in the hall were nothing more than restless spirits.
I shake my head, different scenarios racing through my head on why she was in the hallway at night, each one more disturbing than the last. Aside from the restroom, the only other place she had to go was Sylvester’s bedroom, and there were many times when that’s exactly where she was going and coming from based on the sound of her chains.
I’m going to fucking murder him—slowly. I’d love to start by sewing his goddamn mouth shut just to make him scream. See if he can keep it closed or if he’ll rip those stitches wide open from the pain.
Using one hand, I climb up the ladder while holding on to the lantern with the other. As expected, the hatch door is locked, but I can hear the conversation more clearly.
“Stupid little bitch got me good, but yer old man got too much belly for her to hit somethin’ vital,” he grouses. “Hand me them scissors over there, sweetie.”
There’s a clatter of metal and another series of grunts and mutters. From the sounds of it, Sawyer injured him somehow, and he’s now stitching the wound shut.
That’s my girl.
“She ain’t gonna be happy at first, ya know, but you weren’t either, remember? She’ll adjust eventually, and soon enough, our little family will be happy.”
A growl forms deep in my chest, and the rage burns hotter from the way he’s planning a fucking future with Sawyer. One that consists of her being imprisoned on this island with someone capable of murder and abusing his own daughter. He will hurt her, and most likely take advantage of her body. Those thoughts alone are enough to send me into a tailspin.
Just barely, do I refrain from sending my fist up into the door. It’ll accomplish nothing, but even if I did manage to get it open, Sylvester has a gun and can shoot me dead in a heartbeat.
“You know I’m gonna have’ta punish you for what you did,” Sylvester continues after a moment. “I only left ’cause my back was hurt, and I needed to get the upper hand. I was forced to camp out in this tiny cave at the opposite end o’the island. They been frequentin’ the one with glowworms. And you know my leg ain’t no good with climbin’ in those caves, but I was gonna take you to see ’em again. Don’t think you deserve that anymore, now do ya? I’ve taken good care of you yer whole life, and you repay me by showin’ them the radio.”
There’s a long pause.
“Come here, Kacey.”
I close my eyes, and tremors rack my body from the rage. It doesn’t matter if I yell and cause a scene, he’s either going to silence me permanently or continue because he knows damn well that I can’t do a thing to stop him.
There’s an ocean of violence in my bones, but I need to play this smart.
A sharp crack followed by a soft, garbled cry arises, and I silently make my way down the ladder as quickly as possible. There’s no fucking way I will let that girl suffer any more abuse. And there’s no fucking way I’m staying in this goddamn hole.