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The day is bright and sunny with not even a breath of wind blowing. Perfect weather for trapping feral cats, in other words, because they love the sun and hate the wind, apparently.
The high school gym is about half full of volunteers. Happy Paws has set up five tables where they’re explaining all the aspects of what we’re going to do today. One end of the gym is taken up by the cages we’ll be using. They’re metal and black, stacked up almost to the ceiling and every time I look at them my throat constricts for some reason.
Maybe that reason is this gym. I was a cheerleader in my before life. This gym was practically my second home between all the practices and the games. The day I was abducted Veronica and I were headed here for my practice. She was to pick me up after, which she didn’t like at all. That’s why we argued. That’s why she left me in the car alone while she went to get a drink from the supermarket. And it’s why she blames herself so hard for what happened to me.
I haven’t been in this gym since then, because I never went back to school after I was freed. And it’s bringing up all sorts of happy memories, which are clashing terribly with the ones of the hell I went through in my three years as a sex slave.
Children are chatting excitedly all around, people are happily explaining stuff to the volunteers, my friends are listening intently and actually look like they want to be here, and I just want to run to the nearest bathroom stall, lock myself in and never come out. Or better yet, run home and hole myself away in my bed. After hearing that all my friends and Ruin were coming, my mom decided to stay home so she wouldn’t be in the way. But I wish she were here to hold my hand.
But why?
I need to push through. One of these days I have to find the way forward. Right? Somehow the answer to that is a resounding no deep in the back of my mind. I could just stay in and hide for the rest of my life. Why not?
Ruin’s not here yet.
I told him to come at eleven and it’s almost noon. He’s probably not coming. I want to say it’s for the best that way, because there’s no future for us and I don’t want to lead him on. But another voice from the back of my head is telling me that’s a lie.
It’s that same voice that makes me look each time the doors of the gym open. They’re opening again now, but I’m willing myself not to look this time. And fail. Again.
The next moment, my heart is fluttering happily and my stomach sort of itches. He sees me clear across the room, despite the number of people and cages and who knows what else standing between us. The smile on his face as he walks towards me is contagious.
“What happened to your face?” I ask once he’s standing right next to me. Never mind the hundreds of better greetings I could’ve come up with.
He’s got a faint outline of a bruise around his left eye, several cuts on his cheeks and a split lip. His knuckles look the worst though. All banged up, covered in red scabs starkly obvious against the black tattoos covering his hands.
“An asshole was talking some shit,” he says. “I had to stop him.”
“Are you OK?” I lean closer to check the cuts on his face. It makes his breath catch in his throat.
“It’s nothing,” he says in a choked off sort of voice. “You should?—”
“See the other guy?” I ask, chuckling.
He chuckles too as he nods. “Yeah.”
His eyes are clear, but very soft for some reason. Even though we’re surrounded by noisy people I kind of feel like we’re alone.
“Is that why you’re late?” I ask and it breaks the spell, as my dumb questions always tend to do.
He winces. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“You missed all the orientation sessions,” I say. “But I can walk you through everything.”
I wrap my arm under his so I can lead him to the first info table. I did it without thinking and very nearly recoil when I realize it. He’s frozen to the spot too, his eyes no longer super soft as he stares at me. I smile and keep going.
The girls are standing at the far wall of the gym, looking at us. They must’ve been doing that since he walked in and I’m glad none of them felt the need to interrupt, although my sister kind of looks like she wants to. It’s bad enough doing things instinctively without thinking first. I really don’t need an audience too.
They don’t come up to us until I’m done explaining everything and the event organizer is starting to divide us up into groups based on feral cat colony locations.
Ruin, Veronica, Eden and I are going to an old, abandoned retirement home complex in the next town over, while Harper, Summer and Trixie will go with a larger group to a junkyard about two miles out of town.
Veronica needs more convincing than I do when Ruin suggests I come on his bike to our destination. I actually don’t need any convincing at all, since I loved the ride he took me on the other night. And I kind of liked holding onto him. Not that I’ve admitted as much to anyone. I’ve barely acknowledged it myself.
Getting raped by as many bikers as I have been made me deathly afraid of the sound of any kind of motorcycle for a while. I’d go into full on panic mode hearing it even after I was freed. But that has faded now that I’ve been around them for a while. And the fact that I could ride a bike with a biker… well, that sort of gave me a little tiny glimmer of hope that maybe my past can be ditched, that maybe I can put it behind me one day. That maybe that day isn’t so very far away now.
That’s another thing I barely admitted to myself, let alone anyone else. But it’s much more than just a glimmer as we ride down the forest road, surrounded by tall redwoods, the bright sun chasing away all the shadows it can reach.
I’m actually sad when the ride is over in less than half an hour and we’re once again surrounded by chattering people. And the rattling of cages as they unload them.
