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“Kiss my behind, Shaynie. You’re not doing this alone. You’re my friend, my only friend, my family… I won’t leave you out there vulnerable and alone. You need me at your back. I’m not scared, Shayne. I don’t fear death. I only fear losing you. My sister.”
My eyes well with tears as she speaks, and my head drops. I can’t, no, I won’t let her catch my brothers’ attention. She needs to stay off their radar. I’m not placing a big red target on her back for them to use as shooting practice. Right now, they have no clue that she exists or that she’s important to me. I aim to keep it that way.
Because if not—
She’ll become one of their many victims.
A tool.
Another woman to exploit.
I’d never be able to live with myself if she became another piece they play on their chessboard. If she’s caught along with me, they’ll use her as a puppet against me, threaten her well-being in order to get me to be a willing participant in their dishonorable ploy.
I’d give in, let them use and abuse me if it were to protect her from suffering a fatal fate. No. My mind’s made up. I refuse to let her come with me. She wants to protect me, I get it, but I want to protect her too. I’ll wait until she’s asleep and sneak out.
Without her.
I’ll be sad without her, maybe a little lost and scared, but I can’t let her endanger herself for me. In my mind, that makes me just as despicable as Garrick, Gideon, Graham, and Gavriel. And that’s a slippery slope that I’ll never slide down. I may have the same blood as they do running through me, but I’ll never be devious or reprehensible. My personal oath to myself, and the world-at-large, is to be a gracious and respectable person, not a vile and shameful one.
I’ll never fall into my father’s entrenched rabbit hole the same ways as my brothers have. It takes more guts to stand up for what’s right, than to give up, and let evil invade my body, heart, and soul. I’m stronger than that and I’ll remind myself of that fact with each step I take away from my safe haven, my friend, and the only home I remember.
Flopping back on my bed, I chew over the escape plan. Mera is a light sleeper, so that will be the first challenge I face on this endeavor. If I pass this trial, I’ll have the confidence that I can jump over each new hurdle I come across. When I have myself convinced of this, I watch as Mera mumbles, plots, and moves from one end of the room to the other.
A knock on our door has both of our heads turning that way. Sister Agnes pops her head in, announcing, “Lockdown. We have a few guests that were… unexpected. We’ll let you know when it’s deemed safe to come out again.”
“What do you think that’s about?” Mera asks.
“No clue. But I hope it holds for the next six months,” I grumble.
“That would be helpful.” She snorts. “Then again—”
“Yeah, then again…” neither of us was comfortable completing that particular thought. The prospect of what “couldbe”wasn’t inherently soothing. It was unnerving.
Deep down, we both know that if we’re under lockdown for that long, we’ll never escape… I’ll never escape. Which means the next time I step through the convent doors, it’ll be on my wedding day. No thanks, I’ll take door number two’s option, thank you very much.
A life on the run sounds better than being a sex toy for a man to do with as he pleases. That’s not my life’s goal, not that I have one outside of existing. It’s not like opportunities are knocking on my door all willy-nilly, but I’d rather work menial jobs for the rest of my life than push out babies for a man I already despise. I may not know this stranger personally, but my brothers have brokered a deal with him, using me as the prize. I already loathe him for agreeing to such a thing. He can sit and spin on a glass bottle. They all can. I hope every serrated shard digs into their buttholes.
Immature, maybe? But in my estimation, this warrants it. I’m struggling with the hatred and self-loathing pushing its way through my system. I’m not a hateful person. I’ve never pitied myself. But as of now, I’m allowing myself to reflect on how much I abhor my life and feel all of those array of thunderous emotions to pour down on me.
Mental exhaustion drags me under, and I surrender to it, collapsing into a restless sleep with nightmares of what my life will be if I’m captured and forced into a marriage of servitude.
* * *
A light knock on our bedroom door rouses me, my eyes sting as if they’ve been rubbed raw with sandpaper as I rapidly blink them, trying to clear them from the cobwebs trying to keep my eyelids stuck together.
As predicted, my dreams were plagued with a nightmarish setting. I was miserable, used, forsaken, locked in a life of utter misery.
I haven’t told any of the nuns what my meeting with my brothers was about, even though a couple cornered me when I returned, looks of concern marring their faces. My shields are up, I’m not sure who I can trust and who I can’t when it comes to those running this monastery. After all, I was sent here by my brothers for“safe keeping”so who knows if they’re also on the Crumley organization’s payroll.
“Come in,” Mera raspily calls out. It appears that I wasn’t the only one who fell asleep after our exhaustive pacing and planning.
“Sorry to interrupt again,” Sister Agnes says as she pushes into the room. “These ladies need shelter for an undetermined amount of time. You ladies are the only ones with open beds. So, in the meantime, they’ll be using their sanctuary request to room with you two. I’d appreciate it if you ladies helped them settle in and show them where to find essentials.”
“Of course,” I answer, my stomach dropping. This gives me two extra people that I’ll have to evade when I make my escape.
“Welcome,” Mera says to our new roommates as they shuffle into the room. Both of them have their heads hung in defeat. If anyone gets that, it’d be me.
“Linens are kept in the laundry facility. Tammera and Shayne will show you where that is so you can grab everything you’ll need to make yourselves more comfortable for your stay.” She exits and leaves the ladies standing there, looking uneasy.
