“No, please—please!” I begged as Nancy and Gary both forced me into the box.
“You’re lucky it’s the box instead of the spare bedroom with Mr. Gary,” Nancy Spaulding snarled at me. “Now get in there—you know the routine!”
I had no choice. I could see Nick squeezing his hands into fists but he couldn’t really do anything. If he attacked the Spauldings, they could call the police and get him hauled away to jail. And if he tried to report them, who would believe him? They were supposed to be model foster parents, after all—everyone in Wolverton thought so—especially after that article in the paper.
They locked me in the box—naked as before—and then Nancy snapped the padlock shut.
“Let that be a lesson, you ungrateful girl!” she snapped at me, as though not letting her husband molest and rape me was some unforgivable sin I had committed and must be punished for. “And you—go back to the barn,” she added, pointing at Nick. “Go right now or I’ll call the police and tell them you went crazy and attacked us.”
“That’s a lie,” Nick said unsteadily. His hands were still clenched into fists and though the slats in the box, I could see his whole body was tight with tension.
Nancy put on a high, alarmed voice.
“Oh, officer, I don’t know what happened. He’s always been such a good boy up until now but he just snapped!” She glared at Nick. “Everyone knows that foster children ‘act out’ all the time,” she told him. “It wouldn’t be surprising.”
Her words sent an icy spike of fear right through my heart. If she called the police and lied like that, Nick could get taken away for good! I couldn’t bear the thought of a life without him—I just couldn’t.
“It…it’s all right, Nick,” I whispered through the wooden slats of the box. “As…as long as I don’t have to…to go upstairs, I can stand the box. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
“You’re staying right here for the night, young lady!” Nancy snapped at me. “And I have the only key!” She patted her pocket triumphantly.
Gary gave his wife one last angry look, like a kid pouting because he’s been denied a long-coveted toy. Then he turned without a word and climbed the steps up to the main house.
“Well?” Nancy was still staring at Nick. “Go back to the barn,” she told him.
Nick glared at her, letting his hatred show for the first time.
“If you touch her…if either of you lays a single finger on her…”
“I told you, she’s staying in the box,” Nancy snapped. “Now go! Or should I call the police?”
“Go, Nick!” I urged him. “Please, just go!”
He paused for a moment and I thought I saw his eyes glowing in the dimness of the basement. The brand on my arm burned fiercely, as though in sympathy for his rage.
Then he shook his head angrily and went out, slamming the basement door behind him.
FIFTEEN
“Hey…hey, darlin’—you all right?”
The warm, familiar voice woke me from my uneasy slumber. I tried to stretch and couldn’t—something was stopping me from unfolding my limbs. I couldn’t understand what it was at first…then I remembered the scene with Nancy and Gary Spaulding and realized I was in the box.
“Let me out!” My voice was tight with claustrophobia as I pushed against the thick wooden slats of the crate. To my surprise, I heard the click of a padlock unsnapping and then the lid of the box was opened.
“Nick!” I sat up at once, heedless of the fact that I was naked and threw my arms around his neck. It was cold in the basement—early November—and I was shivering from head to toe.
“C’mere, baby,” he murmured, pulling me carefully and quietly out of the awful box and cradling me in his lap.
“How did you do it? How did you get the key?” I pressed myself against his big, warm body, feeling safe again.
“Snuck into their bedroom and took it off the counter where I saw Nancy leave it,” he murmured. “Uh…here. Maybe you’d better put this on.”
Sitting back for a moment, he pulled the ragged T-shirt he was wearing over his head and handed it to me.
Gratefully, I pulled it on. It was still warm from his body heat and the fabric had his spicy scent.
“You shouldn’t have,” I told him, when I was more covered.
“Couldn’t leave you in there all night, darlin’,” Nick said simply. “Besides, both of them sleep like the dead. They snore like hogs, ya know?”
The thought of our awful foster parents snorting and snoring like a pair of hogs brought a slightly hysterical giggle to my lips. But then the memory of what had almost happened that night sobered me up.
“Thank you for standing up for me, Nick.” I whispered, pressing my cheek to his chest. “I was so afraid—that’s what I’ve been dreading ever since the first night I came here.”