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“I know,” she whispered.
While her mother slept in her bed, we slept together in mine. Now we were attached at the hip, Claire sticking to me like glue, coming with me everywhere I went, curling into my side during dinner.
She did it for comfort, but she was the one comforting me.
Without her…I wasn’t sure I would have the same drive to get out of this place.
I might give up like Beatrice.
When Beatrice woke up days later, she was in unimaginable agony. She took more pain medication than the body could metabolize, but she didn’t care. I couldn’t stop her, not when she was delirious with pain.
I made sure Claire stayed out of the cabin as much as possible.
No child should ever have to watch that kind of suffering.
A week later, Beatrice started to feel better. She wasn’t popping pills around the clock anymore. But a mist of sorrow covered her from head to toe, and the lifelessness in her eyes only got worse.
I told her what had happened with Claire. Didn’t intend to worry her, but she needed to know. She also needed to know that they agreed never to touch her again, that Claire was safe, because I could forfeit my life at a moment’s notice.
She had no reaction.
She sat up in bed in the middle of the night and looked out the window.
I was wide awake, trying to figure out a way out of here, working even harder to crack the code. I left Claire alone in my bed then sat beside Beatrice. My instinct was to put my hand on her back to comfort her, but I knew better than that. The right words weren’t on my lips. There was nothing I could say, nothing to make this easier for her.
So, I didn’t even try.
Her voice pierced the night. “I can’t do this anymore.”
My hand went to hers. “I know…”
Her hand moved away. “No, you don’t.”
“I’ve been making a map. When the fog is the densest—”
“There’s only one way out of this place—death.”
My eyes took her in, understanding her meaning without misinterpretation. “Beatrice…”
“It’s going to kill me at some point eventually… May as well go now.”
“You can’t think like that. We will find a way out of here—”
“You have no idea…” She turned to me, angry tears in her eyes. “You have no idea what I have to go through.”
My eyes mirrored hers. “I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t.”
This place was so horrific that I didn’t judge her for having the thoughts, especially after everything she’d suffered physically. But she couldn’t give up. Neither could I. We had to get out of here. “Just think about Claire…”
She shook her head.
“She needs you.”
“And there’s nothing I can do for her.”
“That’s…that’s not true.”
“I’m going to die either way—”
“Not if we find a way out of here. Beatrice, I don’t want to belittle your pain, because I understand how traumatic it’s been for you. I understand these moments when it just seems so hopeless…what’s the point? But there is a point. We will get out of here. I promise you.”
“Your promises mean nothing.” She released a sigh. “Our only hope was Benton, but he’s not coming.”
“You never know—”
“He thinks we’re dead.”
“Doesn’t that mean he’ll call the cops? If he thinks his daughter is really dead?”
“Not his style.”
“Then he’ll burn this place to the ground himself.”
She looked at me, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“You can’t give up—”
“Don’t judge me.”
“I am not judging you, Beatrice. But you can’t give up. You just can’t. I’m here for you always. Anything you need, I’m here. And let’s not forget Claire, who loves you so much.”
She inhaled another breath. “I’m a shitty mom—”
“You are not.”
“Come on. You’re the one taking care of her.”
“Because you need some space, which is perfectly okay. I love her. I’m happy to help.”
She looked down at her hands as she started to fidget. “I don’t want to live anymore…you know?”
“I do know. I wish I didn’t.” My hand returned to hers, and I gripped it tightly. “But you can’t give up on me. I will get us out of here…somehow…someway. It won’t be tomorrow…or next week. But I will. And that’s a promise.”
16
Benton
Déjà vu.
The chopper lowered into the clearing, fresh powder on the ground after the first snow of the season.
My eyes were out the window, focused on the settlement, the sea of cabins, sculptures…and fucking freaks. My heart pounded so much it hurt with every single beat. My eyes were set, not from fear or sorrow, but hope.
Hope was the worst torture.
I pictured my little girl in my arms again, her blond hair soft against my skin, her eyes lighting up because she knew I would come for her. She never lost faith. Her daddy would come.
And her daddy would kill every single one of them.
