I shrug. “Both.”
Charlotte laughs. “Okay, then. Let’s make that deal. You keep learning what you’re learning, trusting that we’re teaching you so you’ll always be safe. And I’ll also start teaching you the things you want to learn.”
“That’s a lot of learning,” I point out.
“You’re right,” she murmurs, tapping her desk. “In exchange, you’ll get nights and weekends off, just like in real school. You can play in the mud all you like.”
“And make friends?” I ask. “Can I go places and have sleepovers?” I saw one in a movie once. I want one.
She gives me a long, sad look. “Would you be okay with us coming back to that one, Mi Cielo? Your uncle and I need to discuss that with Madeline.”
I huff, leaning back in my chair. “Fine.” I look up at them. “What other things will you teach me?”
“What do you want to know?” she asks.
I don’t even have to think about it. “How to be like you when I grow up.”
Char looks at me for a long moment and sniffs, wiping her eyes. “Okay,” she rasps.
“Can we eat now?” I ask, jumping to my feet. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a cow.”
“Or a bottle of Ranch,” she chuckles, also standing.
Miles laughs and rounds the desk. “One more thing,” he says, his hands on his hips as he looks down at me. “Who makes you feel like you should run away?”
My heart sinks, remembering the cold, scary man I’d seen that day before the meeting. I shiver.
“Mr. Luna.”
Chapter 8
"Fuck," I rasp, mymouth dry. I swallow and choke on nothing.
Cold seeps into my bones, sharp and unforgiving. My eyes flutter open, but all that greets me is a haze ofconfusion. My head throbs with a pulsing ache, and my breath comes in ragged, uneven bursts that only worsen my panic.
Where am I?
The question hangs heavy and unanswered. The space is tight. Suffocating. Four walls, glaringly bright, press in on me from all sides. It’s as if they’re closing in, a relentless grip on my barely-there sanity.
I try to steady my trembling hands, but they just won’t stop shaking. My fingers brush against the soft walls, the texture foreign and unsettling.
This isn't right.
This isn't normal.
Everything’s blurry, and I bend over, catching myself on my hands and knees as the room spins again. Everything is so bright, so painful, soblank.
It’s blank.
Blank.
Why’s it blank?
My stomach lurches, and I scramble sloppily to a corner. With my eyes squeezed shut, I ram my head right into the wall and groan. My fingers claw at the floor as I vomit up the meager contents of my stomach. Again and again, until nothing is left but acrid bile.
Once I’m sure I’m done, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and crawl the short distance to the opposite wall. I drop onto my ass and lean my head against the wall. I breathe deeply, letting the room come back into focus.
A cell.
