And if I had, who was to say the same fate wouldn’t have been mine?
Aside from that, though, I think some part of me intrinsically knew that we weren’t the same women we’d been the last time we saw each other. Time and circumstance had changed us all in fundamental ways.
I was never going to feel ready to see those changes.
But I owed it to them to stop being so chickenshit.
So I sucked in a breath and stepped into the room.
It was somewhat like I remembered it: dark wood cabinets, ancient, peeling linoleum, tile countertops, and ancient appliances.
I remembered the day before I left, standing in that kitchen making coffee and talking to a few of the girls about all the changes we were finally going to make when I came back. A full gutting of the kitchen and bathrooms, paint for the walls, new appliances.
“We’re finally going to make this feel more like home.”
Except, just a few days later, our home would be stolen, occupied, and turned into a prison.
Diana stood near that same coffee machine, her arms wrapped around herself.
I’d seen her outside, of course. What had almost happened to her had switched on a rage inside me that made this whole massacre happen.
But I don’t think I really took her in.
She was skin and bones. Her elbows and knees were knobby and too prominent. Her cheekbones had hollowed out. And there were track marks in her arms.
I swallowed hard and forced my gaze over to the table to find the pixie-cut blonde Saint had mentioned. It was Megan. And when I’d seen her last, her hair had been her pride and joy, falling down in gorgeous white-blonde waves to her waist. She was obsessed with it. There was no way she’d cut it willingly.
Sitting beside her was Emma, who’d always had different colored hair, tattoos, and piercings.
Except there were no piercings anymore.
And there was a scar running down her earlobe.
Where someone had pulled her earring forcibly out.
A shiver worked down my spine at the idea.
“Dylan,” Emma chirped, tears flooding her eyes.
“Hey, guys,” I said, surprised by the rush of tears in my own eyes.
For once, I didn’t blink them away.
I let them flow down my cheeks.
Because if there was ever a time to cry, it was right then.
“I’m so sorry,” I choked. “I… I kept trying. I promise. But he had the place locked up and… and…”
“And we told the cops we were here willingly,” Megan said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
“He got us hooked,” Diana said, unable to meet my eyes. “We didn’t even try to leave.” She sniffled hard. “The things we did for them…” Shame dripped from her words. Even though there was nothing she’d done to be ashamed of. Predatory men had kidnapped, drugged, and abused them.
“None of this is your fault,” I said, walking over to her. “It doesn’t matter what you did. You were just trying to survive,” I told her, sliding my arm around her.
“They’re dead, right?” Emma asked, a fierceness in her eyes that reminded me of the girl I’d always known.
“Yeah, they’re dead.”
