Page 60 of Frat Row

Rushing to eat my breakfast this morning, I fidget with my silverware, anxiety crawling over me. I get dressed and pack a small bag, leaving my identification items behind. I sneak into my mom and dad’s room and pack some of my mom's clothes for Cassidy.

I wait in my room, sitting on my bed and nervously checking my watch every minute. As planned, I told my parents I wasn’t feeling well, and they made sure to tell me I could meet up with them later for lunch if I felt up to it.

Afterward, they took a small boat from the yacht to the island. I decided to wait an hour to be sure they didn’t come back for any reason. I double-check the small backpack, ensuring I have everything we need, and stuff some extra money at the bottom.

At long last, with the bag in tow, I head down to the engine room as relaxed as I can, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.

Throwing open the door, I see her staring off to the side, looking even more lifeless than yesterday. What happened?

“We don’t have much time,” I yell at her, getting her attention. “I’m going to unplug the camera and unwind the chains that are knotted to the bed.”

Sprinting over to the camera, I look over it, find the plug, and angrily yank it from the wall.

Next, I rush over to Cassidy, bending down beside the first set of chains holding her down. Spinning the chains around, I recognize them to be tied in boater’s or sailor’s knots. I detangle them as fast as I can, and somehow, I manage to get them all. She is free.

“Hurry, Tyler, he is going to come back for me. We don’t have much time if we want to get out of here unseen,” I hurriedly tell him.

I coddle and rub my raw wrists and ankles, whimpering at the torn skin.

“Get dressed,” he demands, throwing clothes at me.

Not bothering to look at them, I throw on whatever he gave me as quickly as I can.

My legs falter as I stand upright, the blood rushing through them since I haven’t moved them in over forty-eight hours.

Tyler bolts over and clasps onto my arm, allowing me to lean my weight on him. He uses his other hand to help me put on my pants.

“Well, well, look what we have here,” a teasing voice behind us says.

We both whip around in panic.

“It’s not what it looks like, Dad. This is the friend I was telling you about,” Tyler pleads with him.

An emotionless Martin walks over to him and punches him in the nose, and Tyler goes down on the floor, holding his face in his hands as the blood rushes from his broken nose.

“You are not leaving this room, slave. And if my son wants to take turns with you, well, that is his decision.” He shrugs.

He lunges for me, and I fall backward, scratching and hitting him like a rabid animal. I refuse to be his prisoner again.

“Tyler! Get up! Tyler!” I am screaming at the top of my lungs as tears form in my eyes.

Martin slings me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing and leads us back to the bed, setting me down.

He reaches for the chains, and that is what triggers a fire in my eyes.

I fight Martin as much as I can, hitting, biting, and scratching at him, just hoping to make contact that would give me time to escape his grasp on me.

The back of my head connects with his stomach, making him double over as he gasps for breath; holding on to the wall nearest to him, he attempts to stand upright, but the wind is still knocked out of him.

He gets ahold of himself and shouts, “You fucking bitch! You will pay for that.”

He stumbles toward me, blocking the only pathway out of the room. I move backward, frantically looking for anything I can use as a weapon around me. He manages to get inches from my face, and then he spits on me.

“You’re nothing but a slave, and it seems as though you need to be taught another lesson.” He jerks his hand out, wrapping it around my throat and choking me as he hoists me off the ground.

I pound on his arms to let me go, helplessly hoping he will release me as I run out of air.

Bang.

Martin falls to the ground, and I look up to see a shocked Tyler standing behind him with a metal rod.

I hold my throat with both hands, kneading the soreness. Locking eyes with Tyler, he wordlessly reaches for the small bag and gives me his open hand, letting me decide whether to take it.

There is no decision to make; our lives are dependent on escaping together.

I clasp Tyler’s hand as if it is the only thing keeping me in one piece, and we head to the door, hopping over Martin’s body.

Letting go of Tyler’s hand, I turn around and kick Martin in the face, ribs, and dick over and over as if I’m possessed.

Tyler wraps his arms around my waist and hauls me away from Martin. “There’s no time for your anger to take over; we have to go!”

Sheer panic ripples through my body as I realize I forgot one crucial detail of my escape. I yank Tyler by his wrist and turn to face him.

Bile lingers in my throat as I all but shriek, “They put a tracker in my neck. We have to get it out now!”

Tyler combs his fingers through his hair roughly as he paces back and forth. “Okay, okay, we can figure this out.”

He stops, and I look over at where his eyes land. It is a small toolbox.

Hurriedly, he sprints over to it, going through the drawers like a madman. When he finds what he is looking for, he runs back over to me.

My body is shivering uncontrollably as I see what is in his hands: a switchblade that looks relatively new and a pair of pliers that have seen better days.

“This is going to hurt, but you can’t move or make a sound,” Tyler states, looking me in the eyes.

I nod as tears form in the corners of my eyes.

He doesn’t hesitate as I wordlessly pull back my hair on the side of the neck it’s on.

“It’s a tiny scar, but I see it,” Tyler informs me.

I feel the cold metal of the blade sink into my neck, and with his fingers, Tyler spreads the wound open.

Feeling faint, I bite my lip so hard that the bitter taste of iron seeps into my mouth as I reach for Tyler’s shirt to steady myself.

That’s when I feel the pliers digging around in my neck.

“I see it, but it’s a little deeper and blinking red, just a few more seconds.” He huffs.

Whimpering, I squeeze Tyler’s shirt, trying to remain upright.

“Got it,” he murmurs.

I sink into his arms, and he pulls a rag he must have grabbed from the toolbox and places it on my neck.

“Apply a lot of pressure for as long as you can,” Tyler says.

I feel the blood trickling down my neck.

He takes hold of my hand, and we begin to ascend the stairs, running in sync with each other as Tyler leads the way.

Panting, Tyler lowers his voice to where only I can hear. “Up ahead, there is a lifeboat that can take us to shore. I’m going to maneuver you down to it.” He stops abruptly and clutches both my shoulders. “If for any reason I’m held back by someone, leave and don’t look back.”

I nod, confirming I will do as he says.

As I lift my head up, the lifeboat is only feet away from us.

True to his word, he lowers me into it first, tossing the bag in the back of the boat.

Tyler climbs down the ladder, skipping the last step, as he jumps into the small boat and begins working on the ropes that will lower the boat into the water. His hand slips up a few times, trying to hurry as his hands shake with the uneasy feeling of being caught.

As the boat finally makes contact with the water, Tyler revs up the engine and throws the throttle as far back as it can go. I flail, losing my balance but catching myself on one of the sides.

“Sorry!” he shouts, glancing over at me to see if I am okay.

I situate myself after taking in the sun, and I see the island straight ahead of us.

Daring to look back at the yacht, I jump when I see Martin holding onto the safety bar at the very front of the yacht, watching us.

He turns around to throw things at the captain while screaming at him.

After Martin leaves the captain with no choice, they jump into the smaller boat and trail behind us, gaining momentum.

Tyler doesn’t even bother with the dock as we reach ankle-deep water. We throw ourselves out of the boat, clutching each other’s hands with the bag strapped over Tyler’s shoulder, and make a run for it.

Tyler knows his way around the island; I have never been here. Chancing a glance behind us, I see Martin’s boat docking as the captain grabs the ropes to secure it. Martin jumps onto the dock and barrels after us.

Sprinting while weaving in and out of people, Tyler spots a cab, and we dash over to it, throwing the door open so roughly it starts to shut.

Tyler clutches the door open with one hand and throws me across the seats, leaping in as he closes the door.

Tyler shouts at the driver, throwing his arm in front of him and signaling to go. “Drive, just fucking drive!”

The taxi driver stares back at him, calmly asking, “What’s the rush, man?”

Martin makes it to the door of the cab, and his fists connect with the window as he reaches for the handle.

Without thinking, I launch myself over Tyler and slam my palm down on the lock on the door, beating Martin by seconds from opening it.

“Go, go quick!” Tyler raises his voice, shouting at the driver again.

The driver stomps his foot on the gas pedal, and we take off with Martin refusing to let go of the handle. He doesn’t have a choice as the car speeds up, and he tumbles over the concrete.

Tyler and I lean back against the seats, sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

“We did it,” I say, sinking more into the seat.

“Yeah, we did,” Tyler says as he winks at me and grabs hold of my hand, giving it a squeeze and kissing the back of it.

“Take us to the other side of the island, where there are boats headed to Turks and Caicos,” Tyler directs the driver, tossing a few hundred-dollar bills his way.

The man nods enthusiastically, his smile widening. “Right away, sir.” He steps on the gas, moving the vehicle faster along.

After about forty-five minutes going in and out of traffic, we pull up to white docks with smaller boats, not yachts, with rooms below deck.

Our driver gets out of the cab and walks over to where the captains of these boats are standing. He strikes up a conversation and gets a few of them laughing.

He hurries back to the cab, informing us, “There is only one boat heading to Turks and Caicos, but it is going to cost you a pretty penny, my friends—one thousand American dollars.”

Tyler says too quickly, “That’s no problem.” He unlocks his door, opening it wide. Still holding my hand, he drags me out of the vehicle, and I stagger at the abruptness of it.

Our driver points out the boat, and Tyler counts out the money. He spots the captain standing in front of it and hands the money over to him. “We need to leave right now,” he rashly tells the captain.

Nodding once, the captain motions us to board the boat. Once we’re on, we make our way to the main cabin in the back of the boat. Still worrying that Martin will catch up to us, I peek out the large windows of the boat.

As the engine starts up, the captain does a quick once-over. My eyes spot Martin as he exits a vehicle, running while searching up and down the row of boats.

Our boat slowly starts to move forward, and Martin’s eyes zone in on it. He sprints in our direction. “Tyler!” he shouts. “You can’t do this to yourself!”

He stops at the end of the dock, contemplating jumping and taking a chance on trying to land on our boat. He looks down and examines the length he would need to jump to make it.

In that amount of time, he makes a colossal mistake in his hesitation, and it is too late. The boat is too far from the dock. He would have to swim, and there is no chance he would be able to swim fast enough to reach our boat.

Letting out a breath I feel like I have been holding for weeks, I wave to him and give him my award-winning smile.

Martin is furiously pacing the dock, kicking the air, and screams, “You fucking bitch! I will find you if it is the last thing I do!”

I sit back on the couch and glance at Tyler, concerned he is having second thoughts about the choice he made, but he is sporting a wide smile.

“What are you smiling for? You just left your entire life behind to start over with me in a new country,” I ask incredulously.

“I told you I was going to do whatever it takes to make you mine, Cassidy Matthews.” He smirks at me as he takes hold of my shirt. Pulling me to him, he kisses me passionately, running his fingers through my hair.

THE END