My eyes flutter as they adjust to a different darkness and take in the surrounding room. It feels like a box. Wooden walls edge a wooden floor, the only piece of furniture in it a small cot shoved in the corner. A wooden panel sticks out from the wall across from the cot, hiding something behind it.
I don’t move, I only take in the room and repeat the pattern of turns and steps in my head.
“Your cot is here. There’s a washroom just behind the wall there. Feel free to get yourself cleaned up. Are you hungry?”
I miss the question, too focused on repeating the number of steps, and looking at the room that is about to be my prison.
“Lennox, are you hungry?”
My name startles me again, breaking the trance. How does she know it? Have they been watching me? Watching us? Did Fin tell them?
Fin.
There hasn’t been one glimpse or mention of him since Weston’s reference to the proposed trade back on the beach. I need to find him, to know he’s safe, but most importantly, I can’t escape without him. He can’t stay here in the hands of a monster. I won’t leave him behind.
“I know this probably seems like a lot at once, but it will all be fine,” the woman says.
Turning to face her then, I’m shocked to find she is no longer hiding her face. Kindness fills her eyes and I relax slightly before quickly throwing my guard back up.
I can’t afford to feel comfortable around any of the Castaways.
She looks down at my bound hands and steps forward, pulling a knife from her belt and sawing through the rope until it falls away. My arms pull free and I rub my wrists where the rope dug in, stretching the soreness from my muscles after being locked for so long in one position.
“I’ll have someone bring you food soon. Try to get some rest.” She steps backward out of the room and gives me a small smile before closing the door in front of her.
I run to it, grabbing the handle and twisting violently, throwing all my weight into the smooth surface but getting nowhere. Locked. Almost instantly. I slam a fist into the dark wood and let out a frustrated grunt. Spinning so my back presses against the door, I sink down to the floor and wrap my arms around my knees.
I’m a prisoner.
My life in Dawnlin has just turned completely upside down.
I found the healing waters, and for a moment, the same hope that brought me to this magical place filled me once again, only to be destroyed as soon as I was deemed unworthy. Now, instead of returning to camp to help the others and tell Danethe location, I am locked in a room in the Castaway lair, with no weapons to protect myself, and no plan.
I’m at the mercy of the man who plans to manipulate me to get what he wants.
And all I can do is wait.
For what, I don’t know. I have nothing but time to sit here and think of and prepare for all the ways he will try to get the information out of me, all before he tries to convince me he is right.
I need to stay strong, not just for me and everyone back at camp, but for everyone back in our world who would be exploited if he got his hands on the waters.
A tear falls down my cheek, and I let it. There’s no one else here to see my weakness. The island may think I’m unworthy of the waters, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still protect them from him.
My eyelids droop, my eyes heavy with the weight of the day, and I let them drift closed. I can’t make a plan if I am this exhausted. I need sleep, but I will not accept their false hospitality. The Castaways will not win by lulling me into a sense of security and comfort to turn me against people I love.
I won’t let the mind tricks start now.
I nestle my head on top of my knees and recite the sequence of steps until sleep takes over, my determination the only comfort that Weston will not win.
CHAPTER TWO
The sound of something scraping across the floor startles me awake, and I look around quickly, before remembering where I am. I’m a prisoner, locked away in a room, taken by the Castaways. Letting out a deep breath, I look down to determine what made the noise, only to find a plate of food on the floor beside me. A moment later, a panel in the door opens, and a glass bottle of water rolls in behind it before the panel slams shut again.
Whoever delivered the food didn’t speak, but I know someone is still there. The scraping of a chair on the wooden floor just outside the door, followed by mumbling I can’t make out, confirms it.
I didn’t realize I needed a guard in addition to an immovable locked door.
The aroma of roasted meat and vegetables immediately fills the small room, and my stomach gurgles loudly.
