“I go to stand but I can’t move my hands or legs. “You’re tied up tightly,” I hear a creaky voice behind me. Turning my head to look at the sound, I see the redness of blood covering my eye. I can taste blood too. “Who are you?” I question as I try to move my hands but they are secured tightly behind my back. “I think you know that,” he walks into my vision. “You’re Robert.” “I am,” a mid-twenties male smiles with yellow teeth. He is weathered and rough looking, but I c...an see that he is the grandson of Mrs. Jackson. They have the same facial features. “What are you doing?” I ask him. “I haven’t worked that out yet,” Robert walks around in front of me, “But I’m surprised you are awake first. I hit you a lot harder than I hit your friend and he’s still asleep. You must be one tough lady.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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