Text (Take It Off) Read Online Free PDF Page B

face. The phone beeped again and I pulled it out and held it above me, staring up at the lit -up screen.
    I couldn’t understand why sometimes the stupid thing worked and sometimes it didn’t. This guy seriously needed a new cell provider. Of course, I would rather it only work a little than not work at all.
    Prove it, the text read. I couldn’t even be angry by the request. If I suddenly got a text from someone claiming to be kidnapped, I would probably want proof too.
    I cleared out of the messaging screen and pressed the camera button.
    If he wanted proof, I’d give it to him.
    After making sure the flash was on , I held the phone out away from my face. Right before I snapped the selfie, I grabbed the locket out of my pocket and held it up beside my cheek. I don’t know why. It just felt like the right thing to do.
    I snapped the picture and the n pulled the phone down to view it.
    I grimaced. I looked like hell. I looked worse than hell. I looked like something that crawled out of a grave on some B -rated horror movie.
    The bottom fell out of my stomach. What I was experiencing right now could totally be part of a horrible B-rated movie.
    The entire picture was cast in that yellow-ish kind of glow that a flash provides. My face was streaked with dirt. My skin was pale, my eye was completely swollen and dark, my lips were caked with dried blood, and my hair was half falling out of its pony. Beside me, the necklace was clear, and I nodded, thinking that was good.
    I sent the person my photo.
    If that wasn’t enough to get some help, then nothing would be.
    The picture failed to send twice. The little red exclamation point beside it drove me mad with desperation. By the time it went through on the third try, I’d bitten down three of my fingernails until they were bleeding.
    It was cold down here. Parts of my body began to go numb , and I huddled against the wall, pulling my knees in as far as my side would allow, and then wrapped my arms around them. I rocked back and forth, trying to create warmth.
    Trying to create comfort.
    I was watching the screen when I got another text.
    What’s your name?
    Honor Calhoun. Please, God, let this person believe me. Let them help me.
    I’m going to get you out of there , Honor.
    I started to cry. I said I wasn’t going to cry. I said I wouldn’t give my kidnapper the satisfaction. This wasn’t about that.
    This was about the hope that burst through me. This was about the possibility of me actually living to see tomorrow. This was about another human being who was going to make sure I wasn’t alone.
    I’m scared , I texted.
    I know. We’ re going to figure this out.
    What’s your name? I needed to know. I needed something to hold on to. Something to whisper in the dark of the night.
    Nathan.
    I gripped the phone tightly.
    There was now something standing between me and absolute death.
    His name was Nathan.

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    Nathan
    Someone beat her. Someone used their hands—their fists—as weapons to inflict pain on her. She was small. I don’t know why her slight frame bothered me so much. Maybe it was because it didn’t match the determination, the absolute stubbornness buried deep in her icy blue eyes.
    I laid the phone in my lap and looked across the table at the man whose phone I was getting texts from. At first I thought he was playing a prank. But I watched him. He wasn’t holding a phone. He didn’t occasionally glance down at his lap like it was lying there. Lex’s hands remained above the table on his cards at all times.
    He didn’t look like the kind of man that would kidnap a woman, beat her, dump her in the center of the woods , and then drive to a poker game and have beer with the boys.
    Yeah, and everyone thought Ted Bundy was nice.
    He caught me looking at him and I forced myself to smile. “You gonna fold or raise?” I said, pretending like I was only looking at him because of the game.
    He smiled and took a pull of beer. “I’ll raise,” he said