Most of me is relieved.
Part of me feels guilty.
Luckily, I know how to live with it.
Know how to ignore the jabs of pain, the barbed weights clinging to my insides, the regrets that slice again and again andagain.
“Fuck, man,” Jace mutters, and I shake myself, drop back into my chair.
“Yeah, you can say that again.”
SIX
BRIAR
I hate this.
I wish I could leave all of it behind.
But they would find me.
I know.
I’ve tried to leave—more than once.
And it doesn’t matter how far I go, what color I dye my hair, the disguises I wear or how off the grid I try to live…they always find me.
The first time they dragged me back, they left a finger on my bathroom counter.
It wasn’t mine.
It had belonged to Sylvie.
We’d become sort of friends, talked about finding our way out, starting over somewhere very far away. We even made plans to get out together.
Then she didn’t show up at our meeting point…
Buttheyhad.
And the finger…
I sigh. I never saw her again.
The second time, I was more careful. I didn’t share my plans with anyone. And I had a few weeks of peace and freedom.
Until they found me.
That’s how I got the scar on my stomach. The burn marks on my back. My arm. My legs.
And the last time…well they had nearly killed me, and what they forced me to do in recompense?—
I shudder.
At least like this, I can avoid the worst of the jobs, can pretend I have a modicum of freedom, can have my apartment and my books and food in the fridge and TV shows on repeat and?—
My phone buzzes.
And my reality intrudes—that modicum of freedomissmall after all…and a facsimile, able to be snatched away at any moment.
