“I’m coming, butterfly. Stay strong for me, please.’’
I nod, but when I blink, he’s gone.
A choked sob slips my lips, my throat aching. I know he’s not real. I know he isn’t here. But seeing him, night after night, is the only reason I’m still alive. It’s the only reason I still have a little sanity left, the reason I’m not letting these bastards see me break.
Because when the sun goes down and the moon is high up in the sky, it’s just the two of us. My Arlo, talking to me, walking me through this, not letting me crumble. Even when he’s just a fragment of my imagination, he’s still as attentive and as focused on me as the real one.
My hands tighten around the duvet, gripping it tightly. I snap my eyes shut, letting the tears soak the pillow under my head, and swallow thickly. I won’t die. I know he’s out there, waiting for me.
No, he’s looking for me.
I can feel it in my gut that Arlo won’t stop looking for me until he finds me. I know it will happen soon. My Arlo is coming to save me, yet again. It just goes to prove that I cannot live without him.
He’s my savior, the light in my dark world. The fallen angel that’s guiding me through all the twisted, through all the evil, and not letting me fall. Because if I do, he’ll be right there to catch me.
EIGHT
Something is different today.
Zoe actually allowed me to use body wash instead of the cheapest soap I’ve ever seen, and for the first time in four painfully long months, I’m not eating eggs, yogurt, and bread. Two sausages are in front of me, on an actual ceramic plate, with some french fries, sliced-up tomatoes, and even a few strawberries.
My eyes flick to Zoe, looking at her with suspicion. She merely starts tapping her foot against the floor, the sound of her heels filling my ears. Cam and Sam are nowhere to be seen, and the rest of their people, who were often scattered around, keeping an eye out for me, are nothere.
“To what do I owe this feast?” I ask, trying to keep my voice controlled and steady, but the sarcasm is evident. Zoe’s eyes snap to mine. Her brows narrow, and I continue speaking. “And I even got a proper plate now. It must be a special occasion.’’
Zoe snaps at the small remark, and it’s hilarious that it’s all it takes to set her off. She marches toward me, then grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. A vein pops on her forehead, her eyes boring into mine. Her lips thin into a solid line, and for a moment, she’s quiet.
“Eat,’’ she orders through gritted teeth. “Or, I swear to God, you won’t eat anything for a fucking week.’’
She pushes my head forward, likely as a threat, then releases my hair and steps back. She takes a deep breath, trying to regulate her emotions, but by now, I know that she doesn’t know how. Two emotions she’s familiar with are anger and fear, nothing in between. If it weren’t for the current situation, I’d find it pitiful.
I take small bites, trying to savor the food. Who’d think that such simple food would make my senses overload with content? Then again, those boiled eggs were worse than prison food, and that says a lot.
“It’s oddly quiet,” I say, swallowing another bite of the sausage. “Everyone must be preparing for Paul’s arrival, huh?”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
I shrug, taking a sip of water. “Cam told me.”
“Of course he did,” she mumbles. “Well, it’s not just about Simmons.”
“Don’t tell me we’re switching locations yet again?”
She glares at me. “Don’t think I enjoy them. It’s a fucking hassle to transport you.”
A scoff slips from me, and she isn’t impressed. Her hands twitch by her sides, and she’s struggling to prevent herself from lashing out at me. Truth be told, she loves to hit me around, then gets pissed when it doesn’t hurt. She’s shorter than me and clearlyhasn’t had to hit a person before me in her life, because it feels as though a child is throwing a tantrum. Sure, it stings, but it's nothing that leaves permanent damage.
I hate what they do to me when they need to change the location. I’m always asleep, and they use drugs to put me to sleep. I always wake up in a daze after it lasts for hours. I never know what they do to me while I’m asleep, and the thought of what they could possibly do is terrifying.
“I’ll be gone for the day,” Zoe says, and my eyes snap to hers. A smirk tugs on her lips. “Oh, don’t look so excited. You’ll have someone else watch over you. And he isn’t the person you’d ever want to cross,” she pauses. “Then again, I’d love to see you try fighting him. To see you be put in your place would be just amazing.”
My brows crease. “Where are you going?”
I’m not sure why that manages to derail her. She approaches me quickly, her hand connecting with my cheek. If it weren’t for the rings on her fingers that sliced through my skin, I would’ve barely felt the slap.
“Stop talking,’’ she hisses. “The sound of your voice is pissing me off.’’
I sigh and return to eating the breakfast, knowing it would be the last decent meal in a while. My eyes fall on my hand, and I’m disgusted with myself. I’ve lost too much weight because they haven’t been feeding me properly, and it looks terrible. My bones are more prominent, and the build I’ve worked for is gone. Instead, I’m skinny, to the point of it being concerning, and I can count my ribs.
