Stay by Emily Goodwin Read Free Book Online

screw out from my back pocket and rolled it back and forth between my fingers.
    The sound of the deadbolt shooting back startled me. I hurried to stash the screw and laid back down, not caring to look at Jackson when he came down to get my dishes. But the chitchat of female voices caused me to sit straight up. My fingers pressed into the mattress, and my eyes stayed glued to the base of the stairs.  
    Heels clomped on each wooden plank. I wasn’t familiar enough to recall their voices, but I was sure the Brooklyn accent belonged to Rochelle. She stopped mid-sentence when she saw me, her foot hovering above the last stair. The dark-haired girl from the alley bumped into her, causing Rochelle to stumble. Her foot planted on the ground with a click, and she wobbled before the five-inch, black patent leather stiletto tipped to the side. I watched her ankle twist as she fell. On instinct, I rose, wanting to help her. The dark haired girl got there first and extended a hand.
    Rochelle leaned forward, her fingers wrapping around her ankle. “Ah!” she cried and pulled off her shoe. “Fucking hell!”
    “Are you all right?” I meekly asked, standing so close to the cot it brushed against the back of my legs.  
    Rochelle looked at me and scowled, as if it was my fault she fell. She removed her shoes and allowed the dark-haired girl to pull her to her feet.  
    “I’ll be fine,” she grumbled and took a step, immediately crying out in pain. She hobbled to the cot next to me and flopped down.
    “You should elevate it,” I whispered. “And ice would be ideal.”
    The dark-haired girl eyed me curiously, guilt flashing across her face as she took a pillow from another cot and stuck it under Rochelle’s ankle. She whisked around the cot and flew up the stairs, returning a minute later with a bag filled with ice. Lily, the young redhead, was behind her. She slowly approached me.
    “Hi,” she spoke. “I’m Lily.”
    “Addie,” I said, struggling to find my voice.
    “This is Rochelle and Phuong. We call her Phoebe. She doesn’t speak English very well.”
    “Nice to meet you,” I blurted, the manners my mother instilled in me coming out on their own accord. “I don’t know why I’m here,” I told them.
    Lily bit her lip and looked at Rochelle. A life of hard times and too much responsibility masked her young innocence. Her blue eyes were clouded with fear and shame, and the self-doubt was apparent in her sagging shoulders. She crossed boney arms and offered me a small smile.
    “Phoebe told us that you tried to stop Zane from hurting her, and he brought you back.”
    I nodded. “What’s going to happen to me?”
    Lily’s brow pushed together. “The same thing that happens to us,” she spoke, her voice nothing but a hollow whisper.  
    I swallowed hard, pushing my pounding heart back into place. “And what is that?” The icy words spilled out of my mouth.  
    “Sit,” she said and motioned to the bed.  
    My legs bent, and I sank down onto the mattress.
    “Nate finds us clients and we take care of them,” she said gently and put her hand on mine. Everything about this felt wrong, from the way someone younger than my sister was comforting me to the way she sugarcoated being a sex slave.
    “And if we don’t?”
    “You don’t, you die,” Phoebe said harshly in a heavily accented voice.  
    “Pheebs!” Rochelle scolded.
    “No!” she retorted and rose from Rochelle’s cot. “She need to hear truth! They make us have sex, all kinds. I sorry you here,” she continued. “Here is hell.”
    Her words hung in the air and nobody spoke. Lily picked at the frayed hem of the tribal-print skirt she was wearing, and Rochelle clenched her jaw and moved her eyes to the floor, looking almost as if Phoebe’s words were offensive.  
    "How did you get here?" I quietly asked.
    Lily twisted her red hair between her fingers. "I started doing things for money. I was out on the street a few nights a week. I didn't