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Finally, after what feels like hours, I hear footsteps in the room next to me. Everything in my body wants to put distance between myself and the door. I want to ready myself for a fight or to run. But the ties don’t allow me to do anything other than turn and look over my shoulder.
I see a built, blonde-haired man rush through the door.
For a fleeting moment, I think the man is Cole Morrison.
They have the same blonde hair and pale skin, the same square shoulders and loping, relaxed- looking walk.
As soon as he looks up, however, I realize he is much too old.
I don’t remember his name, but I know it is Cole Morrison’s father.
He stomps towards me and kicks the chair, rocking it over onto two legs. I have to quickly throw my weight to keep from tipping over.
“Stop your screaming,” he yells. “Or I’ll give you something to scream about.”
“Why am I here?” My voice is raspy, and I have to work hard to make it loud enough to hear. “Where is my daughter?”
“Shut up,” he says, pointing a fat finger at me, eyes wide.
“Please,” I beg. “Just tell me why I’m here.”
He plants his feet together and crosses his arms over his chest. He has on a suit, which seems like a very nice outfit to kidnap someone in.
“You killed my son,” he says.
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t.”
He holds up a hand to quiet me, his top lip curled back in barely restrained rage. “You killed my son, so I don’t owe you anything.”
A desperate sob wracks out of me, and I sag forward, pulling against the restraints. “Please. Where is my daughter? That’s all I want to know.”
Cole’s father is in my face in an instant, heat rolling off him in angry waves. Spit spatters on my face as he talks. “You can see your daughter again when I get to see my son.”
Hopelessness opens up like a black hole in my chest, sucking in everything else. It absorbs my fear and anger and desperation. It eats and eats until there is nothing less. Until I’m a shell of a person sitting on the chair, Cole’s father screaming in my face.
“You are going to be sold off like the trash you are,” he says, standing back and crossing his arms again. “There are men congregating now who will bid on you like cattle.”
I try to find the energy to be upset or scared, but I can’t muster it. Not when I may never see my daughter again.
“You ran from my son like you could do better than him. You refused to marry him because you thought you were too good for him. Well,” he says, his face splitting into a wicked smile. “You won’t think so highly of yourself when you’re standing on stage being sold.”
Clearly, I’m being handed over to a sex trafficking organization. That is easy enough to surmise. But is this really all just revenge for Cole’s death? A death I didn’t even cause?
“I didn’t kill Cole,” I repeat again.
“Your husband did,” Cole’s father says quickly. “That’s close enough. And now you will both suffer.”
He walks around my chair in a circle, shaking his head. “You should have just married Cole. That would have saved you all of this heartache. Your father would probably still be alive.” He shrugs. “Or maybe not. He was always an arrogant son of a bitch. Just like you.”
“I’m nothing like my father,” I say through gritted teeth.
Cole’s father smiles even wider. “That’s right. Your father kidnapped you, didn’t he? In the end, even your own flesh and blood didn’t think you were worth more than the price you could fetch.”
Shame pierces my chest like a hot poker, and I turn towards the windows, trying to remind myself of my real worth.
I’m more than what the men in my life thought of me.
Luka has shown me that.
