She stuffed a filthy sock into my mouth and called Hudson.
“Honey, are you home? I’m on my way. I have a surprise for you.”
Joey’s voice was sickeningly sweet, a stark contrast to the cruelty she had just displayed.
“Sure, babe. Dress up nice; you’re meeting my mom for the first time, and I’m a bit nervous,” came my son’s gentle voice from the phone.
I tried desperately to cry out, to let him hear me, but he was too caught up in chatting with Joey about my preferences to notice anything wrong.
After hanging up, Joey slapped me hard across the face again. “Still trying to get help? Wretches like you don’t deserve any mercy!”
With that, she yanked a sack over my head and began dragging me toward the door.
They must have been trying to avoid drawing too much attention, so they threw an old, torn blanket over me.
My head was covered with a hood, making it hard to breathe, and the pain in my hands and legs was so intense that I was close to passing out.
I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, I was thrown harshly onto the ground.
Hearing the familiar footsteps of my son, I mustered the last bit of strength I had left, trying to call out for help.