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The old woman walked over to me, and I swear she was probably more terrifying than the buyer. Something in her eyes made me feel like I was in the room with something venomous and lethal. She yanked my legs open, her rough, calloused hands bruising my skin. I fought to keep my legs closed, and she dug her nails into my flesh, drawing blood. The buyer said something to her, and she snarled back as he walked into the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, warm and scented. He knelt on the bed and wiped at the thin trail of blood. If I told you that the buyer's kind deeds were more sickening than if he’d been cruel, would you believe me? I don’t think so, but Dandy, it’s true. My body was on high alert, waiting for something bad to happen, and he was washing my cuts with a cloth. It made me feel worse, made me sick.
Once he was satisfied that he’d done a good enough job, he went back to the bathroom. While he was in there, the woman opened my legs once more. This time she had the guard hold them while she checked to see if I was a virgin. The intrusion was painful, and I crawled up the bed to get away. The guard yanked me back, and my eyes met Garrett’s. He nodded his head slightly. He looked pissed, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was glaring at the woman and the goon. He’d told me not to displease the buyer, but I couldn’t lie still for this. My body wouldn’t let me. His eyes shot to the pic of my sister, and I closed mine.
Willing myself to a happy memory. I thought about my last birthday and how Emerly woke me at midnight. She declared it was officially my birthday, and we snuck out the attic window and lay on the roof wrapped in my comforter while we stared at the stars. She would count them, determined to get a figure, and I’d laugh at her. I lay where I was, legs open while the evil old bitch probed me to find out if I was a virgin. I wasn’t, of course, and I could have saved her the trouble if she’d asked, but the result was definitely displeasing to her. She stood back, wiping my blood on my leg and shrieking at me. The buyer came out of the bathroom, and he and the woman had words. He walked over to Garrett, whose jaw ticked faster from what looked like fury. He told Garrett that he was assured that I was a virgin. That this purchase was hinged on me being a virgin. I guess when Lorenzo’s guy’s had sold me, they’d sold me with a clause intact. The thing is, I had been a virgin until about a week ago when my boyfriend had become my ex. Turns out, Paul had only been nice to me to get laid. You see, I was a game, a nineteen-year-old virgin, a unicorn. The challenge was real. And once that challenge was met, I was no longer desirable. The kidnappers, however, apparently didn’t get that little update. Garrett left with one of the goons to retrieve the guy who worked for Lorenzo’s men and had apparently gathered all the information on me. Including my favorite color. As soon as I had an opportunity, I was going to cover that diary in as many blue dandelions as I could to erase the mint.
The time Garrett was away felt like a lifetime, and believe me, when you’re stuck in captivity, you know all about time standing still. Even if it is in luxury. I knew as soon as the door was closed that I was no longer safe. The buyer muttered something about me being spoiled goods and climbed on top of me. If I felt the old woman’s examination was painful, it was nothing compared to how it felt when he pushed inside me. I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t see the old woman smirk at me or the guards leering and adjusting their erections. With my eyes closed, all my other senses were heightened, and I could smell his sweet cologne mixed with the tobacco. I felt his mustache scratch against me where he laced my skin with hot, wet kisses. I felt his sweat through his designer suit; heard his groans and the guards’ chuckles.
Everything hit me like a hammer at once, and the nausea was almost more than I could bear. For the first time since I’d been on the ship, I felt every wave. The rise and fall of the swells, along with the buyer pounding into me, had me forcing down the bile. He took a lot longer than Paul had. Or maybe that was just the whole being suspended in my worst nightmare thing happening, but he definitely took a while. When he was done, I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. A full twenty minutes had passed. The buyer got off me and fastened his pants. Tears tracked down my cheeks. He went into the bathroom, and I could hear him urinate, and then he returned, lighting another cigarette.
When the door opened, I was so relieved, I almost cried. But I should’ve known better. I should’ve known that what just happened wasn’t the worst of it. I should’ve known something terrible was going to happen, judging by the look on Garrett’s face and the new guy’s appearance. In fact, the new guy looked really sick. He was pale and sweating bullets.
He was asked about the false information he presented. He went on a ramble about how he did the best he could. Then the buyer looked at me and told me that my promiscuous behavior was going to cost this guy his life and promptly shot him in the head. I did vomit then. I vomited repeatedly until I had nothing left in my stomach. I vomited long after the buyer left and I was alone with Garrett, who wiped the vomit off my body and face while I cried and shook on the bed. I vomited well into the night every time I saw the blood-stained walls and carpet. Reminders of how I killed a man.
Garrett stayed with me all night, repeatedly telling me to go into a memory, but I had none to go to. He brought me the diary, and I wanted to throw it against the wall because I knew I’d given them everything they needed to trade and sell me to the right buyer. The diary was tainted and would forever be. But I couldn’t bring myself to follow through on my earlier promise to myself. Because the mint reminded me of home. Of Sunday night mac and cheese and my comforter. Of my mint meerkat my sister had knitted for me in home ec class. It looked more like a sausage with eyes, but I loved it. So, I kept the mint diary green and added one dandelion. Because today I have no memories, but I have the color mint.
I go to uncap the last bottle of Jack and realize I’ve already finished all the bottles I took out of the fridge. Fuck, when did that happen? I stand and sway a little on my feet. It usually takes me a lot more than four shots to get me tipsy.
I reach into the fridge and take out a bottle of water. As tempting as it is to empty all the booze in the fridge, everything I’ve consumed today seems to be sitting right underneath my throat and is fighting its way up.
My feet carry me to the bed, and I trace the edges of the diary with my finger. Something tells me what I’ve read till now was child’s play, and I run my hands over my short buzzed hair and grip the back of my neck. Fuck, I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I can read any more of this. I toss the book to the end of the bed and lean back on the pillow, closing my eyes. But just as soon as I have the thought, I realize Carys didn’t have the opportunity to cop out when things got rough. I owe it to her to read her story. I reach for her diary and settle back against the pillow. Come hell or high water, I will finish her story.
Day Four.
Garrett has been with me the whole day. He hasn’t left my side unless I was using the bathroom. I know I shouldn’t find comfort in that because this is probably some form of Stockholm syndrome, but he has been kind to me and not in the creepy way the buyer was. The buyer hasn’t been back. When I asked Garrett what that means, he said he didn’t know, but he looked worried, and even though he tried to hide just how worried he was, that in itself was scary. Garrett keeps telling me to stay in the present today. He says I need to focus on the fact that in this very second, nothing is happening to me. That yes, I’m captive and on a ship, but nothing terrible is happening right now. Nothing like yesterday. And when I refuse to eat, he reminds me that I need my strength. I don’t know what he thinks I need my strength for. I have nothing to do but sit in this room and jot my memories down in my book, but he insists I do. I feel like there’s something Garrett isn’t telling me. But I’m trying not to get my hopes up.
I think hope can be a terrible thing when you’re in captivity. Garrett keeps saying differently, but we just agree to disagree. I silently question why he keeps saying these things to me when he’s part of it all, but then I wonder if they maybe have some hold on him too. Maybe he is being forced to do this job. Maybe they have someone he loves under surveillance. I don’t know, and it hurts my head to think about it. So I eat when I’m told, I drink when I’m told, I write down every single tiny memory I have in the back of my book no matter how ridiculous, and I try to stay locked in the “now.”
I fell asleep shortly after dinner. I was so exhausted that one minute I was writing my memories, and the next I was lights out. I woke to a tap on my shoulder, immediately sitting up. The fear I’d encased at the back of my mind came slamming out against my ribs. But it was only Garrett. He assured me it was okay and that I was safe. He told me that everyone was asleep and that the buyers had left for the night, which I’d figured when I heard the helicopter take off.
Garrett said he wanted to show me something. When he opened the door to my room, I couldn’t make my feet step over the threshold. How could I when I had seen first-hand just how dangerous the buyer was? But Garrett assured me I’d be okay as he held my hand. It’s going to sound strange, but I trusted him in that moment. He led me onto the deck, and it was pitch black. So black that it looked like the ship was sailing through the stars and I could reach out and grab one. I know it was silly, but I tried it anyway. With the cool night air on my skin, I reached out to grab a star. I wanted so desperately to touch one. To snatch it from the sky and put it in my pocket. I wanted it so badly that tears streamed down my face. Garett pulled me into his arms and held me tight. He whispered something, and I swear he said he was going to get me away from all this, but I know that couldn’t have been what I heard. How was he going to save me? How could he when we were on a boat in the middle of the Mediterranean?
Garrett pointed, and I wiped the tears from my eyes and followed his finger. A pod of dolphins was breaching the water just next to the boat. I gasped, the sounds of them communicating with each other so beautiful. I wanted to jump off the boat and join them. I wanted to take a picture for Emerly. I wanted to feel anything except the certainty that this was going to be my last happy memory. I smiled at Garrett, wanting to thank him for giving me this moment. Something crossed his face, and I can’t tell you what it was, but I think for a moment, he was thinking the same thing I was.
Day Five.
I haven’t seen Garrett since last night, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. It took ages for me to fall back asleep, and when I did, I dreamed of Emerly. I dreamed she made it to the playoffs, and she asked me to drive some of her friends to the first game. The music in the car was turned up loud, and Emerly’s friends were all competing to be heard over the sound. I kept trying to tell her I loved her, but she couldn’t hear me. She just kept shouting over and over that she couldn’t hear me over the din. The more I told her I loved her, the more she giggled and repeated that she couldn’t hear me. But I couldn’t get her to understand how important it was for her to hear what I had to say then. I woke up crying in an empty room and wondered where Garrett was. My meals were delivered, which again was strange because Garrett was always the one to bring my food. The food remained untouched. I was too anxious to eat, and every time they removed my full plates, no one said anything. Damn, I can’t sit still. Not even to write in you, Dandy.
Day Five-and-a-half
I still haven’t seen Garrett. I’m really starting to get worried now. Is it weird that I felt like he would be my knight in shining armor? I guess that’s dumb. No one’s going to save me. I’m never going to be free.
That does it. I lose my struggle with the bile searing up my throat and make it to the bathroom just in time to heave into the sink. When I get myself under control, I look in the mirror. My face is pale, dark bruise-like rings stain under my eyes, and my irises look black. I drink water and wash my face, then grip the sink. My whole body is shaking. The words from Carys’s diary combined with her last words to me crash against my skull and fill my stomach with guilt. “Thank you. I was sure I wasn’t going to see my family ever again. I can’t believe I’m going to be free.”
I sink to the floor, resting my head in my hands.
“I failed you,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Carys, I’m so sorry.”
Shame and guilt hit me in the gut, and I can’t breathe. Emotions overpower me, bringing everything I’ve buried deep down to the surface. Guilt for being the reason Rubi isn’t alive today churns with the anger over losing my parents while still dealing with Rubi’s death. Remorse for the opportunity to throw myself into deployment after deployment to escape my feelings while Dylan was left alone to deal with her grief. My job was my salvation, but I’m failing that too. I was right there when Skyla got kidnapped. Right fucking there, and I let it happen. I feel my safety net slip through my fingers. Knowing I was making the world a safer place for people was the absolution for all my sins. But that’s not true anymore. I’m failing. I failed Carys. How can I know for sure I can keep anyone safe?
