That simply isn’t acceptable.
Allie says nothing. She only hugs Rosie and takes the towel, trying to wipe her face and forehead. The towel comes back stained reddish brown.
“That went well,” Lucy mutters when I return to my original seat.
“One of these days, I won’t be in such a forgiving mood.”
“I’d hate to be around for that.”
The plane lurches in the air. I feel the change in altitude and can almost feel how close the island’s getting.
Quiet. Solitude. Home.
With my new wife and my baby daughter.
ALLIE
Ican barely move when the plane lands and I’m shepherded out into the bright afternoon sunlight. The air smells like sand and beach. There are palm trees and lots of green out past the runway. A small plane hangar is nearby alongside a tall observation tower. Several black cars are waiting with conspicuously armed men lurking all around them.
Mass strides toward them. My husband—no, no,notmy husband, I won’t think of him like that; he’s my kidnapper and nothing more. He doesn’t seem afraid. If anything, he holds himself a little higher and walks with more precision and power.
And he was already a specimen before.
The man’s beautiful. I can’t pretend otherwise. Long lashes and full lips. A mouth that can do things to me. And that palm held tight to keep me from speaking, and the promise of what he’d do if I didn’t obey…
The sick part is I liked it. The thought of him doing that to me. Because he’s right. I haven’t been with anyone else.
He was a mistake to begin with. And then I was pregnant, and Rosie came, and it just never made sense. I figured I’d be celibate for the rest of my life and hated the thought, but I figured that’s the price I had to pay for one perfect night.
Most people never experience half of what I felt with him.
But now he’s back. The monster who ruined me. The beast I willingly fed myself to.
I’m so completely fucked it’s absurd.
I feel like a freak as I follow. I’m in flats now, but still wearing my spoiled wedding dress. Blood stains the silk and the lace. At least I got most of it off my face, and he was right; the soda did help.
Rosie’s awake. I fed her some yogurt and a banana. She’s squirmy and fascinated by everything around us, which is good. I don’t know how I’d react if she were in a bad mood.
The tall, beautiful woman named Lucy walks beside me. She’s staring down at her phone and typing away. I glance over, trying to read it, but she’s writing in a language I don’t know.
“I can guess what you’re thinking right now.” She glances over sideways, and that’s the only way I know she’s talking to me. “You’re wondering how you’re going to get away from here. You’re thinking you’re going to see a lot of people and maybe someone who works for Mass will help you. Is that about right?”
“I’m being trafficked right now,” I say stubbornly.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Would you call it something else?”
“I’d say you just went through a shotgun wedding and a very minor kidnapping. I’ve seen worse.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“But here’s my point.” She lowers her phone. I’m struck by the intensity of her gaze. It’s like a flickering candle to the noon sun that is Mass’s stare, but she’s got some of his quality. “Nobody will help you. Everyone here loves Mass. Each of them owes him something, and you will never be worth it. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
“This is sick. You know that, right?”
“Sick is relative. Mass won’t hurt you. He’ll treat your daughter well. She’s his blood, after all.”
