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It wasn’t revenge; I’d long given up on getting revenge or even needing it.
I only had one question I needed Enzo to answer…Why?
Why me?
Why when he took me out on his yacht three years ago did
he choose torture over killing me? Was it the only way he could keep me alive? Because if given the choice, I wish he would have just killed me that day.
Why?
The question will haunt me forever. It might be the only thing keeping me alive.
Until now…
The yacht seesaws and lugs causing my body to slip from the wall I was leaning against and slam into the door to my bedroom.
Bedroom, ha.
This isn’t a bedroom.
It’s not even a gilded cage.
The room has four walls and a floor. No bed. No dressers. No bathroom. Nothing that would bring me comfort. When I first arrived, I was given a blanket and pillow, but that was soon taken away from me.
Now I have nothing, not even clothes. And in some way, having nothing is freeing.
Another quake of the boat, this time bigger than the last. I instinctively grab the door handle to keep from sliding back against the far wall. Not because it will hurt—it will—but pain means nothing to me anymore. Because despite the three years at sea, I still want to control my own fate, no matter how hard these men and the sea try to take it from me.
My pathetic grip on the door handle is barely enough to keep me against the door as the yacht is thrown again in the waves and wind of the sea.
Fuck.
We are going to die.
We’ve never experienced a storm quite like this. This is the end.
Dammit.
This is not how I want to go. When I die, it will be when and how I decide.
“You hear me! I decide when I die!” I shout out.
Yelling like that used to get me a beating from one of the men. They tried to get me to give up my voice along with my body and soul.
I never ceased. Eventually, they stopped responding, learning being alone was harder for me than dealing with their brutal violence. But today, even if they wanted to hear me, they couldn’t. The wind’s cry is too sharp to hear anything except its wicked howl.
Another creak and bang of the boat sound as the yacht violently slaps against the water.
My door flies open, the door handle ramming into my stomach knocking all the air out of me.
I gasp for breath as I fall to the floor in agony.
Even the sea wants me to break.
“Never!” I cry when I finally catch my breath.
I get to control how this ends.
