Still Missing Read Online Free PDF Page A

his lap. The only thing holding me up was his hand on my jaw.
    Voice vibrating with rage, he said, "Don't ever talk to me like that again, understand?" He forced my face up and down, tightening his grip with each down. My jaw felt like it was coming apart.
    He let go.
    "Look around, do you think something like this was easy to create? Do you think I just snapped my fingers and it all came together?"
    Gripping the front of my suit jacket, he pulled me over him and pressed me back on the bed. The veins in his forehead had popped out and his face was flushed. Lying partly on top of me, he gripped my jaw again and squeezed. His eyes stared down at me, glittering. They were going to be the last thing I saw before I died. Everything was turning black--
    Then all the anger left his face. He let go and kissed my jawline, where his fingers had been digging in seconds ago.
    "Now, why did you go and make me do that? I'm trying here, Annie, I really am, but my patience has limits." He stroked my hair and smiled.
    I lay there in silence.
    He left the bed. I heard water running in the bathroom. With my photos spread around me, I stared at the ceiling. My jaw throbbed. Tears trickled out of the corners of my eyes, but I didn't even wipe them away.

SESSION THREE
    I noticed you don't have a bunch of Christmas junk in here, just the cedar wreath on the front door. Good thing, considering they say the holidays have the highest suicide rates and most of your patients are probably already teetering on the edge.
    Hell, if anyone can understand why people go off the deep end around this time of year, it's me. Christmas sucked when I was a kid. It was hard seeing all my friends get shit I could only look at in store windows and catalogs. But the year before I was abducted? Now, that was a good year. Blew a fortune on gaudy ornaments and sparkly lights. Of course, I couldn't make up my mind on any one theme, so by the time I was done every room looked like a different float in some weird-ass Christmas parade.
    Luke and I went on long winter walks complete with snowball fights, strung popcorn and cranberries to hang on the tree, drank hot chocolate laced with rum, and sang tipsy, off-key Christmas carols to each other. It was a goddamn made-for-TV movie special.
    This year I could give a rat's ass about the holidays. Then again, there doesn't seem to be much of anything I care about. Like when I used your bathroom before our session today and caught sight of myself in the mirror. Before all this crap happened I couldn't walk by a store window without glancing at my reflection. Now when I look in a mirror I see a stranger. That woman's eyes look like dried-out mud and her hair lies limp on her shoulders. I should get a haircut, but even thinking about it wears me out.
    Worse, I've become one of them --the whiny, depressing people who have no problem telling you exactly how shitty their end of the stick is. All delivered in a tone of voice that makes it clear they not only got the wrong end, you got the one that was supposed to be theirs. Hell, probably the exact tone I'm using right now. I want to say something about how pretty all the stores look lit up or how friendly everyone is this time of year, and they do, and they are, but I just can't seem to stop spewing bitter words.
    Sleeping in my closet last night probably didn't help my attitude or the dark circles under my eyes. I started off on my bed--tossed and turned until it looked like a war zone--but I just couldn't feel safe. So I crawled into the closet and curled up on the floor, with Emma just outside the door. Poor dog thinks she's guarding me.

    When The Freak came out of the bathroom he shook his finger at me, smiled, and said, "I don't forget the time that easily."
    Humming some melody--I couldn't tell you what it was, but if I ever hear it again I'll puke--he pulled me up from the bed, spun me around, and dipped me over his knee. One minute he's trying to break my jaw, the next he's