AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERTWO
PERSEPHONE
The sun is setting in a dazzling array of colors. Reds, pinks, purples, even a dusky blue. I float on top of the water, always conscious of the rippling current below my body and the rushing shh shh of the ocean meeting the shore. The water is warm here, almost like a bath. On the distant shore, a woman stands and watches me, her hand thrown up to shield her eyes from the dying sun.
I don’t want to think about Marta. Don’t want to count the days that I have been held captive on this tropical paradise. Don’t want to face the uncertain future.
So I submerge myself fully, darting into the water and swimming in a random direction until I have to come up for air. My left hand skims against my belly, swollen and growing rounder by the day.
Hades’ final gift to me, it seems. He left me with his baby growing inside me… and several non-English speaking minders, to shelter in this endless summer.
I come up gasping for air, clearing the water from my eyes. Marta is approaching, her mouth set. From what I have gleaned, she doesn’t like me swimming when I am so very pregnant. Five months along, if I have my timeline correct.
I have no real way of knowing, because I haven’t seen a doctor since I arrived on this island, bound and gagged.
Sighing to myself, I start to swim toward the shore. Though I have come to love the sea and the salty air, I tire more easily these days. Besides, there is nowhere to swim to from this island.
Believe me, I tried that months ago.
My feet touch the sandy ocean floor and I trudge up the beach, leaving behind the warm water like I would leave a warm comforter in the winter. I’m shivering by the time I reach Marta, who holds an unfolded beach towel for me.
“Gracias,” I say gently.
Marta nods, smoothing her hands down her long blue cotton dress. “Si. De nada.”
She averts her gaze from my pregnant belly. It looks like I’ve managed to swallow a whole cantaloupe somehow and it is definitely noticeable to other people by now.
That, and the terrible bouts of morning sickness and tender breasts that I had early on. Thank god that’s over.
I hurry into the white cotton dress that I left in the sand, pushing my feet into flip flops. Sand sticks to every part of my body but I don’t much care.
I’m suddenly too tired to do much other than hustle toward the mansion that stands as the only deviled part of this whole freaking island. Again, I know that because I spent days searching for a way to get myself off of this island.
But there is none.
No hope.
A part of me worries about giving birth out here, with no one but terrified little Marta to help. But I can’t think about that.
Marta looks around while we walk up to the beautiful white beachfront mansion.
“Pescado?” she whispers.
I nod, feeling like I can’t possibly keep my eyes open for another minute. From experience, I can guess that the feeling will pass in about twenty minutes. “Is, pescado y arroz.” Fish with rice. If I time it right, I can take a power nap before it’s ready.
Marta seems like she’s about to say more. Then she shakes her head and waves me inside the front door.
Bone tired, I head inside the mansion. The very first time I came in this entryway, I was awestruck by the sleek, white marble everywhere and the obvious opulence of the chandelier and large tropical floral arrangement on a side table. Today I’m used to the opulence of having every single place your eye lands on be made of stark white marble. I climb the grand stairway, which is really the centerpiece of this part of the house. I’m only vaguely aware of the trail of wet sand I leave in my wake. All I know is that all traces will be removed in the time I am in my room. By the time I come back down, it will be swept and mopped, shining as if new.
I head up to the master bedroom, kicking off my flip flops and pulling my beach cover up over my head. This room is as white and luxurious as any downstairs, with a large white canopy bed, a small sitting area, and a balcony that overlooks the wildness behind the mansion.
I discard the silky cover up on the lush white carpet as I barrel toward my bed. Piling onto the bed headfirst, I close my eyes and sigh in a moment of sheer bliss. I let my body rest there for a few minutes before I push myself up to a sitting position again. It’s the easiest thing in the world for me to just wake up every day, go exhaust myself amongst the waves, and crash when I come back to the house. If I weren’t being held captive… if I wasn’t pregnant… if I wasn’t anxious about eventually having to give birth alone…
I could live like this without a single complaint.
However, that is not my situation. My reality calls for action rather than the lazy numbness that I’ve settled into. I creep to the window of my room, moving aside the curtain and peering out.
A man stands guard there with a big, shiny automatic weapon sung loosely over his shoulder. His bald head is facing away from me so I can observe him unseen for a minute.
