Afterward, my last memories flickered in endless darkness.
“I just went to sleep. Nothing else,” a woman replied, short dark hair draping her round face.
The twins shared a look.
“It was the same for me. Do any of you have your phones?” another one chimed in.
A woman with a vibrant blue streak of hair nuzzled it back behind her ear. She checked her pouches, but even before she tugged out the pocket bags, I knew they’d be empty. If we had been abducted—an initial presumption—our phones would’ve been the first items to be taken away.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
The man beside me choked out, “M-mine’s gone too.” His voice itself was a shiver, and his body seemed to shrink as he pressed his round glasses farther up his nose.
There had to be a rationale behind it all. Yet, as my mind worked frantically, a whirlwind of scenarios and possibilities, no plausible explanation surfaced in my mind. The thought was all I had to hold on to—at least until I could find a theory, a solid foundation to build an understanding, a theory that didn’t,heaven forbid, resemble the fantastical stories I consumed in my books.
“I need to go back to my daughter,” a woman whimpered as her arms crossed over her chest, yanking me from my reflections. Not that they served any good, considering I still hadn’t grasped what was happening.
Daughter? I was twenty-two, but I couldn’t decide if the woman whose face carried the freshness of youth and eyes that held a quiet storm was fifteen or the same age as me.
Golden hair framed her face, pale and lit from within, with fear flickering in her wide, gentle eyes. Silent tears rolled down onto her chin as she placed a hand on the wall behind her, sliding to the ground.
“It’s my week, and—she’s just two.”
My lips drew into a straight line, shoulders dropping.
“Georgie?” A woman pushed through the small group, her sharp elbows making way as she shoved people aside. Her steps eased when her gaze finally landed onGeorgie, muscles tensing under the tattoos that snaked up her arms and neck.
“Yvonne? Oh my god.” A relieved breath rushed out of her as they threw their arms around each other before kissing in desperation. Yvonne’s thumbs wiped Georgie’s tears as she kept her face between her hands.
“We’ll go back to Sara, I promise,” Yvonne guaranteed after breaking the kiss.
Not one to invade someone’s privacy, I diverted my attention to the sole door in the room. I didn’t dare to believe the exit would open to my freedom, but as it stood there, tall and imposing, I couldn’t help but admit it was luring me to try it.
“Should we go and see if—if it’s unlocked?” The man’s extremities trembled as he spoke, his voice a murmur.
I glanced at him, watching as he absentmindedly picked at his cuticles, his chin nearly touching his chest. He then looked to the side, avoiding my gaze.
“I’m Theo,” Theo said, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Charisma,” I offered.
“That’s a beautiful name. Your parents must love you.”
I scowled at that. “I guess you could say that.”
My mother did. But my father? My father would sell me for a glass of beer.
Theo glanced at me, brows furrowed. He must’ve sensed the irony in my tone, but when his head tilted and his attention stalled on my face, I knew whatever he was about to say had disappeared from his mind.
“Your eye,” he muttered, mouth agape.
My thumb rested under my left eye, as if it was the first time I had ever heard about it. After a lifetime with it, one would think I would’ve gotten used to it, learned to accept it—thatif my father wasn’t Lane Sinclair, a man who had never failed to remind me it was nothing but a flaw. Among many others.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want—mean to upset you.” Theo’s face burned at his cheeks, painting them with a deep shade of red.
I found the reaction to be entirely harmless compared to others.
