Lost in Silence (The Lost Series Book 1) Read online

  Instead, I wait and I order my stomach into silence.

  This man unnerves me. I feel safe in his presence and I can’t figure out why. If he were Erik, I would be a total mess of fear and compliance. I would be cowering in the corner lost to his control and abuse. The thought of Erik makes my stomach sick and kills my hunger.

  My fingers move under the stranger’s watchful eye, a nervous habit of mine. They dance to the chords of music in my head. My favorite song, one I know backwards and forwards on the violin. Whenever I feel nervous or uneasy, thinking of my song put everything right. Erik hated it and he tried breaking me of it but I simply learned to hide it better. I feel safe right now with Hudson, so I don’t try to hide it.

  I can’t help the sad feeling that washes over me. I yearn for my violin. It was my first love, now that I think about it, it was my only love. It never hurt me. It never betrayed me. It never hit me. It never threatened me. It never locked me away in a closet. No, it kept me sane. It kept me believing that one day I’d get to wrap my arms around it and strum it’s beautiful strings again. Hell, right now, I’d be surprised if my hands would be able to hold a violin after the many breaks they’ve been through.

  “Do you play?” he asks his eyes on my fingers. I stop instantly, my eyes go wide and I wait for him to strike. Maybe I was wrong about him? He doesn’t move a muscle. “Guitar?”

  I’m frozen in my spot on the floor. I can’t answer. I don’t know how.

  “Banjo?” he names off other string instrument. “Bass?”

  I want him to stop. I wish he would stop. I can’t answer and if I could, there wasn’t a way to explain it to him. I can’t play anymore because I’m not allowed to.

  “Violin?” the word causes my eyes to fly wildly up to his face and gasp. I quickly remember my conditioning and cast my eyes down again. Cringing away from him, hoping he makes the strike quick. “You play the violin?”

  I remain stoic and still, waiting for my punishment.

  “I’m not going to hit you,” his voice is soft, my heart wrenches. I want to believe him. He leans toward me and I flinch backwards. His eyes widen and he moves back instantly. He isn’t trying to frighten me but my reaction is out of habit. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I relax, allowing my shoulders to sag. If he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done so by now. I scoot closer to him, trying to show him some trust. I don’t know why but I have the urge to comfort him.

  “Do you talk?”

  If I had the words, I would’ve given them to him. I wanted to tell him but it’s been too long since I used my words. An overwhelming feeling takes hold of me as I realize I would give this man anything and it frighten me.

  “I’m Hudson. Is your name Alice?”

  I slowly look up at him. His eyes are warm and kind. His body is relaxed. There is nothing threatening about the man before me despite his big and domineering presence. I have no doubt he can smash a person with one hit but in this moment, he is marshmallow soft.

  “You can trust me,” sadness creeps into his eyes. I sense his need to know and I understand it. I give him a quick nod and relief fills his eyes. “You do understand what I’m saying.”

  I nod. Yes, I understand what you’re saying.

  “But you don’t talk?”

  I shake my head. No, I don’t talk.

  “I see,” he leans back onto the foot of the bed and watches me carefully. “Do you write?”

  I shake my head. No. A lie but I’m not sure if it’s safe, I was already crossing the line looking at him directly.

  “Is your name Alice?”

  I nod. Yes, my name is Alice.

  “Alice Scott?”

  I shake my head. No.

  I never got the chance to change my name in any official capacity because the abuse escalated fast. Erik wouldn’t let me leave the house because I fought against his ‘rule’. I was what he considered a flight risk. My last name is actually Michaelson but I have no way of telling him that. No form of identification to prove it either, Erik had destroyed it years ago.

  “Was that man your husband?”

  I look down at the dingy carpet. I don’t want to talk about Erik to him. I don’t even want to think about Erik. Because thinking about him meant I’d have to figure out what I am going to do next and quite frankly, I didn’t want to run anymore. I’m tired of running.

  “Alice, I know it’s hard but I can help you, if you want,” he shifts forward, pulling his knees up to his chest, resting his thick arms on them. I peek up at him through my lashes. I want his help but I hesitate. The last person who tried to help me landed in the hospital with four broken ribs, a concussion and a swollen face. I wouldn’t let it happen again, to anyone.

  “I know you’re worried but he can’t hurt me,” it’s as if he is reading my mind. I shiver, shocked over his perception. My fingers start to twitch again. “He’s being booked right now. Edwards knows something is off about him and is looking into it.”

  I hear the words but I don’t trust them. They can look all they want. They won’t find anything. Erik is good at hiding his tracks. Too good. He has too many connections, too many willing to play his game. Maybe this was a ruse too. A game Erik convinced this man to play and I was just a pawn.

  “Alice, let me help you.”

  Panic slowly pours into my body, filling every nook and cranny.

  Crap! Not right now, please not right now!

  A panic attack. A new development during my time running. I wasn’t too familiar with them but I’ve been having them since my second escape. They were lessening as time passed but when they hit, they hit hard and drained me for days. It was the last thing I needed, another reason to stay.

  *****

  Hudson

  I can see the panic mounting her body. She’s going to have a full blown attack if she doesn’t calm herself soon.

  She’s afraid. Deeply afraid.

  “Take a deep breath and slowly release it,” I coax softly. I desperately want to scoop her up and hold her close but I know it would only frighten her more. I’m as close as she is going to allow me for the time being. Every inch given had been her choice.

  She nods but instead her breathing becomes laborious.

  Shit, fuck!

  “Breath precious, slow your breathing down,” I hated seeing her tiny frame struggle against the panic but I’d be damned if I allowed her to surrender to it.

  I could see how tiny she was even as her sweater drowned her in its shapeless folds. It was that obvious. She doesn’t want me to see her though because she clutches the ratty gray sweater around her as if her life depended on it. The hood of her sweater hid her face from me most of the time, especially when her gaze rests on the flooring.

  I resist the urge to yank it off her head.

  “Look at me,” my voice a hoarse whisper. She lifts her head. “I need to see your face. Would it be alright if I pushed your hoodie back? You don’t have to hide from me.”

  She nods and takes a deep breath. Her body is shaking uncontrollably. The attack is mounting quickly and I need to be face to face with her when it happens. I have plenty experience with panic attacks, it happens when you learn to deal with the demons I live with everyday.

  I reach towards her, slowly, careful not to move too fast. My hands touch the rough gray fabric and I pull it back gasping at the sight of her. Her chocolate brown eyes are surrounded by huge dark circles. Her face is gaunt and sunken it. She’s at least twenty pounds underweight. Her skin is tight and ashen from malnutrition. I’m surprised she able to hold herself up. I can only imagine what is hidden under the layers of her clothing.

  She shifts back and reaches for her hood. My reaction has embarrassed her. I lift a hand to stop her and our hands touch, electricity shoots up my arm. I pull back suddenly, like she’s burned me, and stare down at the floor. I’ve never felt anything like it before.

  I summon the courage to seek out her face, expecting to see panic and worr
y. There isn’t any. She’s taken aback the same as I.

  “I’m sorry,” I stutter. My mouth feels numb, like I can’t form words. She stares back at me with confusion in her eyes. Her nostrils flare as her breathing deepens. The panic no longer threatening to take control of her body but she hasn’t realized it yet. “I didn’t mean to touch you.”

  She reaches up quicker this time and pulls the hood back over her head. Fuck!

  “Please, don’t hide yourself from me,” I hardly recognize my voice when I speak. I don’t want her to feel embarrassed or ashamed but I’m worried. I can’t stop the honesty that spills from me. “How long has it been since you’ve had a decent meal?”

  She looks down to the floor and shrugs. She’s lying. I know she is. I would bet my last dollar she knew when, what and where it was. I pick up the bag next to me and set it down in front of her.

  “If you don’t like it, I can get you something else,” I open the bag and take out a bottle of water, a bag of chips and a small sandwich. Setting it all down in front of her, I wait.

  It doesn’t take her but half a second before she picks up the water, twists the cap off and guzzles every last drop. She eyes the sandwich carefully, aware of any movement my body makes. She wants the sandwich but she didn’t trust it was hers. Son of a bitch must have starved her during his sick little games.

  “It’s yours. Eat,” I whisper softly. Her eyes lift to my face again and I swallow hard. They’re filled with unshed tears. She licks her lips and reaches for the sandwich, carefully lifting it to her lips, she takes a small bite. She sighs breathily as she chews her food but her eyes never leave my face. I smile at her, trying to reassure her and grateful she was eating.

  “You can pick out what we have next, if you’d like,” I lean back against the bed and relax, allowing the silence to envelope us.

  After she finishes, her eyes get droopy with exhaustion. It’s late evening and there is plenty of time for rest before we need to be on the road tomorrow, I quietly shift towards her. Her eyes shoot open with panic.

  “Do you want to sleep?”

  We don’t need to be on the road until tomorrow morning. There’s some time still before we need to be on the road.

  “You can have the bed,” I motion to the bed behind me. Her eyes flick to the bed and them to me. I can see the thoughts in her head, she wasn’t going to accept the bed. “I’ll sleep in the chair.”

  She doesn’t move from her spot on the floor for some time, contemplating her options. After a few moments she shifts, moving back into the closet, closing the door softly behind her. It wasn’t surprising but I didn’t like it.

  “Alice, please don’t sleep in there, come to the bed,” I say softly, hoping she will listen. She doesn’t. “At least take a pillow and the blanket.”

  No response.

  I sit for what seems like hours before I hear her soft snores coming from her makeshift bedroom. I sigh, stand up and flop onto the bed. I won’t bother her anymore but after this night, I’ll be damned if she sleeps in another closet.

  Chapter 4

  Alice

  I woke to silence.

  Beautiful silence.

  Was I dreaming? Had I really escaped Erik again?

  It wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t have been. Then why am I sleeping in the closet? My eyes fill with tears. I should’ve listened to my family, my friends, when they told me Erik was a bad guy. I would give anything to go back to that moment and make a different choice. Why can’t I go back?

  I hadn’t thought about them in years, my family and friends. Thinking of them only hurt, so it was rare I let myself go there.

  When I went away to Julliard, it was the first time I had been away from home. The friends I made there were the first friends I ever had. To say I lived a sheltered childhood was putting it lightly. It consisted of tutors, lessons and all things violin. My grandfather was a well known violinist. His talent was something the world had only seen on occasion. My father was a good violinist but no matter how much he practiced or studied, he never had the notoriety or talent of his father. My parents spent their time working and training, their music was always first. I rarely saw them outside a concert hall or practice room. My grandfather always made time for me though and went to great lengths to make me feel special in the world.

  From the moment I was able to hold a violin, I lived it. I breathed it. I slept with it. I even bled all over it. My father was determined to see me surpass my grandfather and made it a point to give me whatever advantage I needed to make it happen. Since he didn’t possess the talent to be greater he was dead set on making sure his one and only daughter did, which made for a lonely childhood. Despite always be surrounded by people, I was alone. I yearned for a normal childhood filled with sleepovers, play dates, parties, friendships, boyfriends, hell, even school. But I wasn’t allowed and instead spent my days with a violin in hand rehearsing from morning to night.

  Juilliard couldn’t have come at a better time but it was my parents’ worst nightmare. One of the most prestigious performing arts schools in the country accepted me as a student, at age fourteen no less, but I wasn’t allowed to attend. Juilliard would take me away from them and that was unacceptable since I was still a child. They made me defer my acceptance until I was eighteen. Guess I wasn’t ready to experience life on my own yet. Maybe they were right.

  But Juilliard was my way out, my way to finally break free of my parents and their strict rules. The day I turned eighteen, I latched onto it with both hands and refused to let go. I fought daily with my parents, pushing them to keep their word to me. They tried everything to get me to stay but I wouldn’t hear any of it. I wanted Juilliard.

  Now I wish I hadn’t fought them so hard. I wish I had given into to them one last time and taken the position of second chair in their orchestra. If I had, I wouldn’t be cowered in a closet of some seedy motel room with olive green carpet.

  A soft knock at the door jolts me out of my thoughts.

  “Alice, are you awake?” the voice from last night asks softly from the other side. Hudson. “I brought you some breakfast and a fresh change of clothes. You can shower if you want.”

  My mind flashes through the last twenty-four hours, reminding me of how I came to be here. I had escaped Erik again. Thanks to Hudson and a not so easily fooled detective, they saw through Erik’s webs of lies and arrested him. I was camped out in Hudson’s closet and I was safe, at least for the time being.

  Shit, my mind swirls. Erik was probably going to be released from police custody today once they realize who he is. I need to get on the road soon.

  Sitting up and I carefully stretch out the kinks in my back, grimacing from the small twinges of discomfort. I push open the closet door and peer out. Hudson is nowhere to be seen. I frown, wondering when he left the room. I didn’t hear him come or go. I see a breakfast burrito and a small carton of orange juice sitting on the table waiting for me. My stomach grumbles, reminding me to grab it on my way out. Next to it rests a small pile of clothing, much too small for Hudson. As I approach them I notice they still have the price tags attached. When did he have time to do this?

  Damn it, I slept too hard again.

  The door to the bathroom is open, I move towards it, picking up the clothing as I do. Might as well, I could use them after all. I stand under the hot shower, relishing the moment. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

  Fuck, why couldn’t I have just listened?

  *****

  Hudson

  I open the door to the room quietly hoping to find her out of the closet, her breakfast eaten and the shower going. Two out of three wasn’t bad but I wish she had chosen to eat first.

  I walk across the room, reach under the bed and pull out my briefcase and a duffel bag. Detective Edwards called me this morning, while I was out getting breakfast. He wanted to let me know where things stood with her asshole husband, which all things considered could’ve been worse. But unless Sneak or Edwards�
�� team finds something more concrete on this asshole, he’d be released by the end of the day. We’d have a good head start out of town but not nearly the one I had hoped for.

  The shower shuts off and instead of frightening the poor girl, I announce my presence before she walks out in her towel, or worse, naked. “Alice, letting you know I’m here.”

  I shake my head, trying to push the thought of her naked out of my mind. What kind of fucked up monster am I thinking of her like that? Fuck, she didn’t need me salivating at her heels, especially now, the girl can hardly hold herself upright she’s so thin.

  I empty my clothing out of the dresser and pack them neatly in the duffel bag. I’m in the process of zipping it up when the bathroom door opens and she peeks out. Praying she’s dressed I freeze, forgetting to breathe as she steps out, fully clothed, thank fuck.

  She’s absolutely breathtaking. Despite being severely underweight, the bad bottle hair coloring and dab of fear in her eyes, I can’t stop staring. The clothes I purchased were still too big for her tiny frame and they were the smallest sizes available. If I had my way though, she’d be filling them out soon enough.

  I resist the urge to wrap my arms around her, more for my own good than hers. I can’t explain it but being near her makes me question every reason I cut myself off from the world. It scares the shit out of me. I look away quickly and check the drawers again. I know I’ve already cleared them but I need a moment to catch my breath and reign myself in.

  She steps softly towards the table, her hair a knotted wet mess hanging down her back. She skirts past me, keeping a wide berth between us and stops at the table. Her eyes are cast down, her hands clasped together nervously, she is waiting for permission to eat.

  Son of a bitch!

  “You don’t need permission,” I say trying to mask my anger with a nonchalant attitude. She tenses. It didn’t work. “I’m sorry, really I am, but it pisses me off. You don’t need to ask anyone for permission to eat, especially me.”