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I don’t know why he’s telling me this.
He walks toward the mattress, standing in front of me, waiting for me to speak. But I have nothing to say.
“He asked about you,” he reveals. I lower my eyes, not wanting him to see me cry. “I told him he wouldn’t be disappointed. I sent him your picture.” No doubt the one he took of me as a submissive little lamb.
If this is some sort of pep talk, then Saint shouldn’t give up his day job.
Unable to stomach any more, I lower myself to the mattress and lie on my side, my back turned to Saint. I weep silent tears. They slip into my parted lips, and I taste salty sadness. It’s a flavor I should be accustomed to.
The storm is now a welcomed disturbance as the wild wind and ferocious waves drown out my weeping. In seven days, life as I know it will forever be changed. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
Using my hands as a pillow, I prop them under my head, wishing sleep would finally save me from the horrifying images swirling around my mind. However, when the mattress dips minutes later, and I feel a comforting warmth at my back, those images soon settle and are replaced with silence.
My heart begins to race, and my breathing is shallow because there must be some mistake, but when a comforting fragrance floats through the air, I know that there is no mistake. Saint has laid down behind me.
He doesn’t touch me, but the heat from his body instantly thaws the chill, and I melt. My world calms. I don’t know why he’s lying with me, but I don’t question it because I need this human connection. I know this is crazy, but honestly, I’m forever questioning my sanity, especially when I languidly shuffle backward so I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.
We’re still inches apart, but knowing he’s beside me has a warmth spreading from head to toe. And the action within itself…I don’t understand. Why is he offering me this comfort? I want to ask him. But I don’t. I’m afraid he’ll pull away, and I need this.
I need him.
I decide to tell him about what Kazimir said when I wake because now, the sluggish tempo of his inhales and exhales lulls me into a sleepy bubble, and I surrender, sleeping beside my captor.
When I was a child, I used to suffer terrible night terrors, so much so, my father gave up his own bed so I could sleep by my mother. The comfort of knowing she was there beside me gave me a false sense of security, but even so, my dreams weren’t as real when I wasn’t alone.
When I woke up screaming, she would comfort me and tell me it was all right. That is was only a bad dream. Hearing her voice and smelling her perfume caused the terror to fade, and I would realize it was just a nightmare.
I would give anything for her to tell me that again because when I feel something cold and hard press against my forehead, I know this isn’t a bad dream. This is real.
“Wake up, bitch.”
My eyes snap open.
Before me are two men or, rather, two monsters. The biggest monster of all, Kazimir, crouches down beside me with the barrel of a gun pressed to my brow. Instantly, I jerk back, but his hand snaps out and grips me by the bicep. “And where do you think you’re going?”
I squirm against his hold, but it’s useless.
“I told you, you owe me. It’s time to pay up.” He yanks me up violently while I writhe with all my might against his hold. However, when I see a bloodied Saint slouched in front of me with two men on either side of him, holding him back, my fight dies a quick death.
The one to his left grins, and I immediately remember him. He was one of Pipe’s men. He seems to have taken on the role of captain, which has me believing Pipe is dead. Saint struggles wildly, but he doesn’t stand a chance as he’s clearly wounded.
His face is a bloodied mess, but that seems secondary as the deep gash to his side gushing bright red blood has my utmost attention. Those pained grunts and winded exhalations, I believed them to be just a bad dream, but seeing Saint, bloodied and wounded, I know they ambushed him when he was asleep…beside me.
He let his guard down for a split second, but he will pay for that moment dearly. I instantly feel guilty for being so needy because if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be in this dire position. Without a doubt, they will kill him, and as for me, it looks like I’m about to finally pay my dues.
“Meet your new master, Gringo,” Kazimir cockily says, waving the gun in the direction of the dirty, destitute looking man. He wears black pants with holes torn in the knees and a faded NIKE T-shirt. A red bandana holds back his long and matted hair.
When he sneers, I see he’s missing a few teeth. The remaining ones are yellowed, like someone who has smoked too much tobacco. “Hello, peach. We’re going to have some fun. Payback for what you did to Pipe. And once we’re through, I have someone else who is very interested in seeing if you taste as sweet as you look.”
Saint thrashes about madly, but when his other captor punches his wound, he screams in utter torment. I lock eyes with him, wondering what it feels like for my captor to now be a captive, but seeing him bound doesn’t give me any satisfaction. The need to help him overcomes me, but I stay put.
Kazimir sold me out to god knows how many people. But this is personal for Gringo. I was inadvertently the reason for his friend’s demise. He will ensure I pay. And pay dearly.
A bolt of lightning sparks to life, alerting me to the ferocious storm outside. It also kicks Kazimir’s plan into motion. “Now, before I give you to Gringo, you owe me and Adal a taste.”
When Adal steps forward, I know that the identity of my last captor has finally been revealed. I only have to look into those beady, cruel eyes to know he’s the asshole who pistol-whipped me. He and Kazimir are here for their pound of flesh.
I flail frantically, but when Kazimir shoves the gun into my lower back, I freeze, a breath hitching in my throat. “No,” I plead, but Adal advances toward me, running a hand over his rubbery lips.
