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“I was so young. I’m not sure my brain could process it. Not that time anyway.”
I freeze at her words before pulling her until she is sitting on my lap. I cup her jaw and tip her head back so she has no choice but to look at me.
“What do you mean, that time?”
“I was taken again when I was seven. That time by a group. They were a little more organized. They had me for twenty-four hours. All of which I spent locked in a dog cage.”
“Did they hurt you?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“They were a little rough with me, but they left me alone once they had me. Their only interest was money. Once they were paid, they dropped me off at a park.”
I shake my head in shock. Getting kidnapped once is a horrific ordeal for a kid, but getting taken twice is insane.
“Did your parents get you counseling?”
She huffs out a laugh. “Of course. Therapy is socially acceptable among the wealthy. Broken, traumatized little girls, not so much.
“When I was taken at fourteen, things were a little different.”
I stare into her eyes, unable to process the words she’s saying.
“They wanted money too. It was always about the fucking money. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore. My body had changed—developed—and money wasn’t the only thing on their mind.”
“Astrid, no,” I whisper, my hands sliding to her hips, holding her in place.
“One of the men grabbed my arm—his bare skin touched mine, and I got a vision. I saw him hurting and killing a woman, and I knew that’s what would happen to me too. The only thing keeping me safe was the knowledge that they might have to provide proof of life.
“The leader… he handcuffed me to a chair and left me there. My arms were restrained behind my back and through the wood, making it impossible for me to get them free. Still, it didn’t stop me from trying.”
She lifts her wrist and rubs it absently. I take her hand in mine and gaze down at her wrist and notice, for the first time, silvery, faded scars.
“I didn’t stop trying, not when the screaming started and not when I felt my skin split open and blood run down my arms.I could hear my vision playing out in the room next door, and not even the pain from my torn skin could distract me from the horror that was happening to her or from the knowledge of what was waiting for me.”
She takes a shuddering breath as I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me, holding her tightly as my heart gallops in my chest. “Shh… You can stop now. You don’t have to tell me anymore.”
She continues as if she didn’t hear me. “When he came for me, I switched a part of my brain off, taking myself somewhere very far away. I could be there when he did those things to me. I was so lost in my mind that I didn’t realize there was a rescue team there. They shot him and dragged him away. I was in someone’s arms and on a helicopter when my brain finally registered that I was free.”
She lifts her head from my chest, a few more tears slipping free. “He never got the chance to do what he wanted to me. That woman’s screams are just some of many that haunt my dreams. Her torment gave the team time to find me. Her death kept me alive. It was a lot for me to process, especially when, a few months later, I found out that my father refused to pay the ransom. He said that people thought he was soft. Because he had paid the first two times, people thought he was an easy target. He decided to take a stance and not reason with terrorists,” she mocks, the anger and pain clear in her voice. “And he came to that decision while his daughter was in the hands of a psycho. The team that rescued me came for the woman who died. Her husband hired them to bring his wife home, and instead, they found me.”
“I don’t even know what to say, Astrid. None of that should have happened to you. Jesus, baby, you are so fucking strong.” I soothe my hand up and down her spine, feeling her shiver under my touch. “If I ever meet your parents—” I shake my head, biting my lip at the last minute. It doesn’t matter what I think. They are still Astrid’s parents.
“I’m telling you this because when you found me and Salem together, you looked at me as if you had expected me to hurt her.”
“No. Astrid—” She places her fingers over my lips.
“Your reaction to seeing me was different than your reaction to seeing Salem. I know I have my own issues to deal with, but you felt cold, and I had to fight back an overwhelming urge to run. I realized then that I hadn’t told you much about me. How can you build trust with someone when you don’t know anything about them, right? And after you opened up to me about prison and stuff, I wanted to be brave and let you in a little.” Her voice cracks at the end, so I pull her close and press a soft kiss to her lips.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
She smiles, small but true. My thumb smooths over the scars on her wrists, my eyes darting down to them before drifting up to her face. “That’s why you don’t like being restrained. It triggers the memory.” Guilt weighs me down. I’m an utter bastard.
She nods absently. “I’m good most of the time, but handcuffs take me back there and to that feeling of helplessness.”
I roll her until she’s beneath me and press my body against hers, smoothing my hand over her hair. “I have an idea. It will involve trust.”
She looks at me warily. “Okay.”
I climb off her and disappear into my bedroom. I open my nightstand drawer and rummage around until I find what I’m looking for. I grab them and head back to Astrid, finding her exactly where I left her.
