Once Sarah was forced to let go of her mother, she didn’t put up much of a fight. The girl was small and likely knew she was no match for a man of Quincy’s size. It was clever of her to listen to him. Fighting would only make it more difficult for her, but if she played along and gave him what he wanted and needed, he would treat her right.
Quincy led her into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother locking it; there was no reason to. Not many things interested Quincy except for money and power, but he found himself strangely intrigued by the gorgeous girl in front of him.
“How old are you, sweet thing?” he asked, unable to curb his curiosity.
Sarah’s bottom lip trembled, but she did not reply.
“Answer me,” Quincy demanded, tightening his grip on her arm.
“Eighteen,” she breathed, her voice shaky.
“That’s better.” Quincy loosened his grip on her. “Now, are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”
“The easy way,” Sarah stated, looking down at her feet.
“Look at me. I want to see your beautiful eyes.”
Slowly, Sarah tilted her head up, looking him in the eyes. Tears were rolling down her face, and she was visibly shaking.
“Have you ever been with a man?” Quincy asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I wanted to wait until marriage.”
That was such a sweet idea, Quincy thought to himself. Such a shame it wasn’t going to happen.
“Please...” she begged, her voice trailing off. “You don’t have to do this.”
Sarah was at least two feet shorter than him, and her frame was thin and frail. Quincy rather liked the fact that she was so small. “Oh, but I do, sweet thing,” he said, his voice soft. “You have no idea how badly I have to have you.”
***
Isabelle had watched in horror as Quincy dragged Sarah from their room. She knew what he was going to do to her daughter, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do to stop it. As a mother, that was possibly the worst thing you could ever have to endure. Once again, she had no other choice but to be strong and hope that Sarah would somehow survive whatever Quincy did to her.
She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help the tears that spilled from her eyes as she sat on the bed, hoping against hope that Quincy wouldn’t hurt her daughter. She knew it was dumb to hope for such a thing when it came to a man like Quincy. He clearly had no heart and no conscience. Isabelle listened and wondered if he had any intention of ever returning her daughter to her. There was a big chance that he might simply keep them apart from each other. Not knowing whether Sarah was all right or not would be devastating.
Isabelle could hear footsteps and then the sound of what she thought to be another door closing. Getting up, she paced up and down the room, unable to sit still any longer. Her legs ached asshe moved about. They were forced to sit in the wagon for days on end, and their muscles weren’t used to moving around so freely. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Sarah.
Seconds turned into minutes, and then came the sound she dreaded to hear. Sarah’s voice echoed through the cave as she screamed and begged. Isabelle broke down, unable to keep herself together any longer as she listened to her daughter being tortured. She didn’t want to hear it. The sound would forever be engraved in her mind, playing over and over in her nightmares. It lasted way too long, and when it was finally over, Isabelle pulled herself off the ground, wiped her face, and sat down on the bed. If by some miracle Quincy returned Sarah to her, she couldn’t let her daughter see her in such a horrible state. She would have to cope and deal with the pain of what she had just heard, but her daughter did not have to see it.
It didn’t take long before the door to their bedroom opened, and Quincy led Sarah inside.
“Thank you, sweet thing,” he said as he placed a kiss on Sarah’s forehead and then disappeared from the room.
Once Quincy had left the room and closed the door behind them, Sarah turned to Isabelle. Her face was stained with tears and her dress with blood. “Ma...” she sobbed.
Isabelle leaped off the bed and embraced her daughter, pulling her into her arms. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she ran her hand through Sarah’s messy hair.
Sarah was shaking, and soon enough her legs started to wobble.
“Come on,” Isabelle said, guiding Sarah to the bed. “Lie down.”
Sarah did as she was told, clutching the pillow in her arms.
“You’ll be all right,” Isabelle soothed, wiping the tears from her daughter’s face. “You’re strong and brave. You just need to hold on until somebody comes to rescue us.” The words tasted bitter on Isabelle’s tongue. She didn’t believe them, but she needed to give Sarah something to hold on to.
Isabelle sat with Sarah, brushing her daughter’s hair with her fingers and whispering words of encouragement and love. The hatred she felt for Quincy was a new feeling for her. She had been angry before, but she had never hated somebody so fiercely. Worse than the hatred was the hopelessness. These men were cruel and evil, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it. Isabelle and Sarah were at Quincy’s mercy, and Isabelle knew that he had none.
They sat like that until Sarah cried herself to sleep. Isabelle could hear her breathing change and her body relax. It was a good thing. After what had happened, Sarah needed to rest. Isabelle didn’t dare move, scared that she might wake her daughter. Instead, she just sat there, allowing her eyes to scan the room. It was mostly empty. The bed that they sat on was pushed up against one of the rock walls. Next to it was a bedside table that held nothing but a lantern, two glasses, and a smallpitcher filled with water. Other than that, the only two items in the room were an empty chest and a bucket that they were told to use to relieve themselves.
