“Where we’re going, you’ll be able to stay out of sight as much as you want while you decide what you want to do next.”
Taryn released the spreaders and carefully removed them from the cut. She cleaned the incision again and covered it with antibiotic cream and self-sealing skin adhesive. Unless Giselle developed an infection, the cut would heal with barely a scar. At least on the outside. Taryn would do what she could to make sure the girl had as few other scars as possible.
“There are other girls there?—”
Giselle lurched upright, then fell back with a whimper.
“Easy now,” Taryn cautioned. “The other girls are like you—off the streets and living new lives.”
“Promise?” Giselle asked, sounding young and afraid.
Taryn’s heart broke all over again. “Promise,” she said, glad it was one she could keep. She shook off the melancholy and slipped back into Jack mode. “Let’s get you up. Be careful. It’s going to hurt—a lot—especially when the numbing agent wears off.”
With Taryn’s help, Giselle rolled to her side and sat up, clutching the towel against her chest. Then she spread her legs and tried to see the wound.
“Here.” Taryn handed her a small mirror, then stood and turned her back while Giselle checked out the results of the impromptu surgery. Taryn had witnessed this ritual before. “I’ll get you some clothes.”
“Will it leave a scar?”
“Probably,” Taryn admitted. “If you’re careful and let it heal, it’ll probably be a small one that gets less noticeable with time. Picking at it will only make it worse.”
“Okay.” Giselle’s voice was stronger now.
Taryn pulled a pair of baggy black pants and an oversize blue sweatshirt out of her bag, as well as underwear and a tank top. All the clothing still had tags. “You decent?”
“Yes.”
Taryn handed the pile of clothes to the girl. “Put these on.” She added a simple pair of flats to the pile. They should fit the girl well enough to get out of here.
“What about my other clothes?” Giselle asked.
Taryn arched her brow. “Do you really want to put those back on?”
Giselle thought about it before she shook her head. “No, I guess not.”
“These will keep you covered and warm until we get you out of here. Can you stand?” A hard question for someone who’d just had surgery on her leg. Taryn’s tone was brisk. She was itching to get out of here. The more distance—the more time—they could put between them and this room, the better she would feel.
She wanted to give Giselle more time, but the clock was ticking. If it ran out—if they were caught—then all Taryn’s hard work and planning would be for nothing.
“I’ll try,” Giselle said. Once more Taryn was proud of this girl who kept fighting.
She watched intently as Giselle planted her feet on the floor and used her hands to push off the bed. When her legs took her full weight, Taryn caught the wince that flashed across her face, but other than a slight hiss of breath, Giselle made no sound.
The girl steadied herself with a hand on the bed, then flashed a beaming smile when she managed to stay upright. “I can walk.”
“Good.” The girl was slight, but Taryn didn’t want to carry her. That would draw unwanted attention. It was better if no one noticed them and no one remembered them.
“Get dressed,” Taryn reminded her.
Giselle dropped the towel and the dingy white cotton puddled around her feet. Bruises and scars marred her skin and she was too thin.
Pity and anger roiled within Taryn and she fought to keep calm.
One step at a time. They had to get away cleanly before she could help Giselle with her scars and anything else she needed.
The girl popped the tags off the clothes and dressed quickly. The oversize clothes swamped her.
Taryn dipped into her bag again and pulled out a pre-wrapped snack kit and a sealed bottle of nutrient-enriched water.
