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“You’ll survive,” he says, his voice dark and brooding as he stares me down. “I’m here.”
Like that’s supposed to make me feel better.
“It’s freaking cold in there,” I respond as sprays of water hit my legs. “No way.”
He pulls the rope from his bag again and twists it around his hand like he’s going to tame a horse, and it makes me step back.
“Come here … Now.”
It’s not a question.
Not even remotely.
Either I do what he wants.
Or I run.
Now.
Biting my lip, I glance over my shoulder and back at him, wondering which option is the smarter one to take. He watches me like a hawk. One misstep and I’m done for.
Still, I take the risk.
I spin on my heels as quickly as I can, darting back up the hill.
I squeal when I look over my shoulder, and he’s right there in my footsteps, clawing his way back up like a beast.
“April!” he barks.
But I don’t look back.
Suddenly, his hand is around my ankle, and he tugs me down. I shriek, but my voice is cut short by my face hitting the dirt. Three seconds is all it takes for him to wrap the rope around my belly and secure it tightly behind my back … along with my arms.
He drags me down back toward the river.
“Let go of me!” I yell. “I never said I agreed to crossing a damn river!”
“You are coming with me whether you like it or not,” he growls.
“Are you out of your mind?” I kick around, but it’s no use. He’s much stronger than I am. “You’re going to get us both killed!”
He turns me around on my back and grabs my shoulders, looking me dead in the eyes. But the menacing look on his face has been replaced by candor as though he wishes to instill me with faith. “Stop fighting. We’ll make it.”
I’m panting as he sits on top of me, staring me down like he wants me to admit defeat. Like he wants me to actually … believe in him.
But he is my captor.
My best interests are the last thing on his mind.
So I fight tooth and nail, kicking and screaming. I even try to bite him. That’s how badly I want to avoid getting into the river … because, after all this struggle, I’ll be damned if I let some water kill me.
But he locks me in place with both his legs and arms, firmly holding me down on the ground. “I will not let you die,” he says with such certainty in his voice that it quiets mine. He leans over, gazing at me with darkened eyes hidden underneath thick lashes. “Trust … me.”
Something about how he says it, so full of devotion and confidence, makes me stop fighting him. I relax as he nods and then scoots off me to help me up from the ground.
I don’t know what made me trust him so easily.
If it was the stillness in his body, the softness in his voice, or the sympathy in his face.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was because he understood and recognized the primal need to escape a fate that I didn’t get to decide.
He pulls me along by the rope, closer to the riverbank, where he starts taking off his shirt and shoes and socks, tucking them into the bag. Every inch of skin that becomes visible makes it harder to breathe, and I visibly gulp when he approaches me and unfurls the rope from my body. My shirt and pants go next into the bag and onto his back. All that’s left are my bra and panties, and his eyes never leave my body. The intensity in his actions is so much that I can barely breathe as he ties the rope around both of us, securing it tight.
“If you die … I die,” he says.
The conviction in his voice does not go unnoticed.
He holds out his hand, and I look down at his fingers, which are steady as a rock, while I’m swaying like the waves in the sea, unsure of myself.
Our eyes connect in a moment of sincerity, and I take the plunge, grabbing his hand.
He pulls us into the river, holding my hand tightly. The frigid cold instantly makes me shiver, fear overtaking my heart as I struggle to fight the waves. A rush of adrenaline swoops over me with every step I take, deeper into the river and down into the water until we’re waist-deep.
Until the cold reminds me of a time I don’t want to remember.
April
Months ago, the Holy Land
A bucket of ice-cold water makes all the hairs on my body rise and my nipples peak. It never gets easier even though I’ve been to these community showers so many times now. They only do this to me because I refuse to undress in front of them. Because I refuse to shower with everyone here like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
