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We walk the journey in silence, both at a loss for words. I don’t know what I feel. I’m a mixed bag of emotions, but at the forefront is betrayal. No matter how cruel Saint’s words were, I know they were the truth. Drew never loved me; I was merely a pawn in his sick, twisted game.
Not only did he sell me like chattel, but he also took out a life insurance policy, making me feel like nothing but a means to an end—which is what Saint once told me I was. How could I have been such a fool?
However, I focus on where we’re going because I need to know how to get here on my own. When we pass the purple flowering bush, I decide to leave markers so I know where to go in the future. The terrain becomes more compact, so I stop when I can and rip the hem of my dress, tying the material to branches and plants. By the time I’m done, the short hemline exposes much of my legs.
I should be shy, but I’m not. It’s nothing Saint hasn’t seen before. He allows me to do my thing, watching closely as I leave my trail of breadcrumbs. We turn left and venture between two towering trees arching over the other and a large, clear pond beyond that.
Rocks cover the ground, and a bent tree trunk protruding from the water’s edge gives me the perfect place to hang my clothes. The flourishing leaves from the towering trees provide a perfect screen for privacy.
Walking to the edge, I stand on one foot and take off my shoe, balancing it on the tree trunk. I do the same with the other. Saint is still here, watching me.
“There is a cave just beyond those trees,” he says, pointing straight ahead. “I’ll look inside and see if I can find anything.”
“Okay,” I reply, not really sure why he’s being so informative, seeing as he’s been anything but in the past.
He rocks back on his heels, appearing to want to say something, but he doesn’t. He nods once before walking back the way we came, leaving me alone.
When I can no longer hear his footsteps, I untie the bow from around my waist and kick my ruined dress aside. Unhooking my bra, I toss it and my knife on the trunk, then rub over my shoulders where the tight straps have left deep indentions. It feels liberating to be naked.
I stroll into the water, gasping when it cools my heated skin. I will never take fresh water for granted again because this feels amazing. My muscles unwind as I bob up and down, wetting my body before flopping onto my back. I’m a water angel as I float, skimming the water with my fingertips.
The sun beams down on me, and I close my eyes, allowing the stillness to take over. Even though I’m lost to the world, this is the first time in days I’ve felt at peace. Drew’s treachery never leaves my mind, but I allow myself this small reprieve of just being in the moment.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m proud of myself for coming this far. It’s only been eleven days, but it feels like eleven years as each minute, each second has tested me in ways I never imagined.
If I was back home, would I have allowed someone like Saint to treat me or to touch me in the way he has? The answer is no. But not many people will ever have to face these circumstances in their lifetime. I don’t understand my attraction to Saint. He’s not someone I would usually find myself attracted to.
I wonder if maybe I’m suffering from some form of Stockholm Syndrome. I am certainly not in love with Saint, but I’m not repulsed by him either even though I should be. He is not a good man, and he guards so many secrets, but instead of that being a deterrent, I find myself wanting to know more.
He has been cruel, physically and emotionally, but he’s also been kind. Anyone looking in would scoff at my thoughts, but I can’t help how I feel. Maybe I’m truly broken after all?
Deciding I won’t solve this mystery anytime soon, I stand and walk over to my toiletries. As I unwrap the soap, the smell of lavender hits me, evoking memories of being handcuffed to Saint. I walk into the deeper water, then dip the bar of soap into the water and lather up a soapy handful.
I pass it over my body, sighing in bliss as I wash away the filth. Not wanting to waste too much, I toss it onto the dry land and begin to wash my hair with the shampoo and conditioner. The knots are terrible, so I run my fingers through it, eventually able to brush out the snags.
When I feel clean and more like myself, I brush my teeth and rinse off and make my way to my clothes. I don’t have a towel, but with the blistering sun, I will be dry in a few minutes.
A thought suddenly hits me. What happens if I get my period while here?
Thanks to my IUD, I haven’t had a period in months, but I have to prepare myself just in case. However, all thoughts are put on hold because as I wring out my hair, I hear something rustling in the bushes. I pause, head tilted to the side, to ensure I’m not hearing things.
When it sounds again, I yelp, afraid Saint has returned. I quickly slip into my clothes, beyond thankful to be in underwear and shorts. Pocketing my knife, I wait for Saint to emerge, but he doesn’t. The air suddenly falls silent, and I begin to question my sanity.
Shaking my head, I tie my hair into a topknot, twisting the strands of hair to secure it into place. I feel a million times better. Deciding on heading back to the beach, I gather my things and follow my trail. This place is truly a labyrinth. If not for the pieces of cloth, I would be lost. Saint’s ability to navigate is impressive, but I suppose in his line of work, he needs to know his surroundings like the back of his hand.
The purple flowers are ahead, so I make my way toward them; however, there is no mistaking the rustling of leaves this time. Spinning quickly, I reach for my knife, but what I see has me pausing, unsure what to think.
A white chicken appears, pecking at the ground, none the wiser she almost gave me a heart attack.
I stare at her for seconds, certain I am hallucinating, but when she ambles over and squawks, I know that I haven’t lost my mind—yet.
Dropping to a squat, I offer my hand. I’m familiar with chickens as I grew up with many animals on the ranch I lived on. She waddles over unafraid and pecks my palm, clearly disappointed when I’m empty-handed. I can’t help but laugh. “Hi,” I coo. “What are you doing out here?”
She clucks in response.
Peering from left to right, I wonder if she’s on her own. She appears to be. I don’t know how she got here, but she’s proof someone else was here. I don’t know how long ago, but the fact is, this island may not be as remote as I once thought it to be.
Maybe someone sailed here, stopped for a few nights, then went on their way. Another ship will surely pass by soon. I’m sure of it. My new friend is a confirmation of it.
