I need to fix this. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking. I don’t even know how to get a hold of her without going to Rockvile.”
“No one’s going anywhere,” his father interrupted, crossing his arms. “The European tour is about to kick off and we’re behind schedule already.”
His mom rubbed his back. “Don’t worry, we’l get a hold of her. It’l be alright. I know it seems terrible right now, but you’l feel better tomorrow.”
“No, I won’t feel better until I can talk to her and make sure she knows we’re okay.” Thank God mom understood. He could always count on her in a crisis.
# # #
That night Libby, wearing a baggy t-shirt, wandered her bedroom, unable to sleep. She didn’t want to be at school and now she didn’t want to be here either. When she came home, Aunt Marge gave her the silent treatment, which was fine. The acrid stench of pot filed the air. A bag of pot sat on the kitchen counter like a huge elephant in the room. Libby supposed now that Aunt Marge’s business dealings were out in the open, she didn’t feel the need to hide anything anymore.
The evening inched by, a slow torture into night. More than anything, she wanted Peter. She didn’t care what Garrett said. In her eyes Peter would always be perfect. She would love him for the rest of her life.
She broke down and tried to cal him, in desperate hope that Garrett was wrong, but her phone had no service. Garrett had cut the phone service and as a result Libby out of Peter’s life. It was over. No going back. This flashy phone was no more than an empty shel. Al the life and love it held now dark and dead.
Her stomach growled with hunger, but she didn’t dare go downstairs in search of food. She didn’t trust herself around Aunt Marge. What she realy wanted to do was light the barn on fire and watch her aunt flip out as she lost the only thing she cared about go up in smoke.
Libby plopped back down on the bed, miserable, wishing she could sleep. It was after eleven p.m. and her body wouldn’t give in.
Some freakish adrenaline from losing Peter consumed her body.
She stared at the shadows the moonlight cast across her room. She tried to block out al the painful memories. Her Mom cover in shattered glass. Her sister hooked up to machines that couldn’t save her. Her big strong father crumbling before her eyes. His car driving away. The memories morphed into equaly painful thoughts of Peter; him singing to her at Parfrey’s Glen, the way he held her in his arms and his eyes gazed deep into hers.
A loud crash sounded downstairs. She jerked up in bed and heard another huge crash, then loud voices yeling. She sat paralyzed on her bed unsure what to do. Downstairs her aunt’s shrieks filed the house.
Someone was breaking into the house.
Chapter 16
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and paralysis turned to action. Libby leapt off the bed, searching the room for a safe hiding place. The closet held almost nothing and wouldn’t conceal her; the furniture was sparse with nothing to hide behind. In unbearable panic she ran to the bed and began to crawl under it, smacking her chin on the floor and scraping her shoulder against the ancient frame.
Her bedroom door burst open and two enormous men rushed in. Their bright flashlights caught her attempt at escape.
Her heart nearly exploded as she clawed to fit under the bed.
They were on her in an instant. Rough hands dragged her back out, causing her nightshirt to slide up and reveal her bare legs and underwear.
“No!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping to alert someone, anyone to help. She dug her fingernails into the threadbare carpet, and kicked out at her attackers. Pure terror consumed her.
Libby fought their vicious attack with a strength she never knew she possessed. A heavy boot slammed into her back, knocked the wind out of her and pinned her to the floor. Her heart pounded huge loud thunks. Tears streaked her face in defeat. As she struggled to breathe, the men flipped her over and blinded her with their bright flashlights.
“Jesus, Smith, she’s a kid,” one of the attackers said.
“Like that makes a difference,” the other responded.
“Back off, let her breathe,” the first voice said.
A set of hands moved away, but the other kept her locked in an iron grip.