Disconnected? Megan has been keeping my baby in the dark for months?
While we all frantically searched the beach that night, she must have hidden her away—possibly even removed her from the property temporarily so no one in the camp would see her. That would explain why I didn’t cross paths with Megan.
At the back of my mind, I try not to think of the consequences of me being in here with Sadie. What will Megan do next? Will she leave us here to starve or die?
I press a protective hand behind Sadie’s head. “I will get you out of here, I promise.” In truth, I can’t promise we will leave unscathed because I don’t know who Megan is and what other cruelties she is capable of, but I need Sadie to believe everything will be okay.
“I hate it here,” she hiccups. “I hate it so much, Mom.”
“I know.” I’m laughing and crying at the same time.
She doesn’t need to know that I once lived here. She will find out eventually. When she does, I pray she doesn’t hate me for sending her here, even though I thought she would be safe and protected.
Sadie continues to tighten her arms around me, trying to make sure I’m real, just as I’m doing the same.
“Did she hurt you?” Though I can’t see, I search her body with my hands, looking for wounds and scratches.
“No.” The word comes after a short pause.
What a stupid question! Of course she’s hurt. Megan may not have hurt her physically, but she is bruised, deeply damaged emotionally. Putting her in this room for six whole months would do enough harm.
“Nobody will ever hurt you again,” I promise between sobs. “I won’t let them.”
“Mom, I tried to be good. I tried because I thought she would let me leave. I begged her to let me go home.”
How many nights did she muffle her sobs into her pillow, broken and drained and hoping for someone to come rescue her?
It hurts me to know that I will never be able to get her back to who she was before. I want that girl back, the fighting spirit she had—even if it exhausted me at times—and not this broken version of her inside my arms.
“My baby girl, I want you to know that nothing is your fault.” I need her to believe that, to believe in her goodness. I hold her tighter as she cries harder in my arms.
“I want to go home to you, Dad, and Coco.” Even though she’s sixteen, she now sounds like she did when she was a little girl.
“It will happen. Dad will get us out of here.” I swallow the salty tears in my throat as my head starts to spin again and the fog returns. “He will find a way,” I slur, feeling very tired again. I try to say more, but the words die before leaving my lips.
“It’s all my fault, Mom. I should not have pushed him away from me…on the beach.”
“What do you mean you pushed him?” My words are nothing but a whisper now and my heart is pounding too hard and too fast.
“Me and Dad, we were arguing.” She pauses to sniff. “I saw him and Scarlett.”
“You don’t have to think about that anymore.” I realize with a start where this conversation is headed, and I know I won’t be able to handle it.
But Sadie keeps talking, her voice breaking. “I ran away and told him I wanted to stay here. Everything is my fault.”
I’m trying to take in her words, but she’s starting to sound distant. “You’re…you’re not in trouble,” I murmur as my head drops to my chest.
Her wanting her independence didn’t make her deserve this. I want to assure her of that, to tell her she is not broken. But I feel myself slipping away fast.
If I was really poisoned, that poison is now making its way through my system.
If Gabriel doesn’t make it here, I might not be strong enough to get us out. I would fail my daughter, again.
Finding a bit of extra strength, I pull myself from the floor, wincing from the pain in my back, and pull Sadie with me onto the narrow bed, so we are lying down together.
Wrapping myself around her, I do the only thing I can do at this point. I hold her. “Daddy’s coming, I promise.”
I choose to believe that Gabriel is working on a plan right this minute. He loves us, and will never stop looking for us. This nightmare will be over soon.
