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The first time we catch up to her, she notices Ghost first and starts running. He grunts at how she still views him as a threat.
“She’s running on autopilot now,” I say and pat his back before I take off running after her.
During the weeks she was kept at the Dirty Princes’ compound, Hope was beaten, raped, starved, and kept underground. Her body was so thin and fragile when we found her. A year later, she’s put on some weight yet remains weak. That’s why she keeps stopping to catch her breath. She’ll likely pass out soon if she doesn’t rest and get some water.
Hope doesn’t look back but must hear my footsteps because she changes directions. I keep my pace steady, gaining on her as she circles back toward the road.
“No,” she says in a rough, thirsty voice as she spots Clutch ahead.
Stopping too fast, she tumbles to the ground. Hope whimpers at the scratches on her hands and bare knees. I hear the panic in her voice as she crawls away from him.
“I’m here,” I say, wrapping my body around hers so she won’t run.
Hope’s panicked demeanor instantly shifts. Rather than fighting to break free, she clings to me.
“I had to run,” she whimpers, catching her breath as I hold her. “I had to get help.”
“I know. It’s good to run. But we’re okay now. Those assholes who hurt us are dead. We’re okay now.”
Hope tenses at the sight of the nearby bikers. I use my shirt to wipe her sweaty face.
“These guys are our friends. You know Clutch, right? And there’s Blunt with Ghost. And you’ve seen Dire at our house. You know all of them. They live at the Sanctuary with us.”
As Hope stares dazed at me, her hands go to her crotch, and she whimpers, “They burned me.”
Hope breaks into pained sobs. She’s only nineteen, and her mind is damaged in so many ways. Not only from the trauma. The abuse seems to have left her stunted in a lot of ways, seeming childlike and easily confused.
I don’t know what Hope was like before her father sold her to those sex traffickers. She might have been a wild teenager. Or a shy young woman afraid of her own shadow. Whoever she was before is gone. This new Hope is like a kid trapped in a woman’s body.
Cradling her, I promise, “They’re dead now.”
“They hurt you,” she says and grips my arm. “I heard them beating you. You were screaming. I heard your bones breaking. I thought you were dead.”
Last year, I made the decision to let Hope believe I was the woman kept with her in that underground dungeon. She blames herself for running and getting the woman killed. I could try to explain who I really am and how staying put doesn’t always end any better. After all, I didn’t bail on my sister, thinking it would save us. Instead, she died, and I live with survivor’s guilt.
I suspect a part of Hope knows I’m not that woman. But she’s freed of her guilt by weaving memories of the woman who comforted her in the dungeon with the woman who comforted her at the Sanctuary. That’s why I’ve chosen to go along with the lie.
“They hurt us both, but we survived,” I tell her. “We’re at the Sanctuary now. We live with Ghost. Do you remember?”
Hope wipes her eyes and nods. “I have a cat.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t be allowed to stay here,” she says and begins panicking again. “My dad is coming for me.”
“No.”
“He’s going to make me go back there.”
“I’ll never let that happen,” I say, holding her still so she doesn’t run. “Neither will Ghost. The Sanctuary is your home, and your dad is a loser. He can’t fight the Born Villains. There are too many powerful people who will protect you.”
Believing my words, Hope rests her cheek against my chest and goes limp. “I had to run. I wasn’t leaving you. I just needed to get help.”
“I know. You were smart to run. But we don’t need to be scared anymore.”
Hope studies the bikers nearby. They won’t go back to their schedules until she’s safely at home. I suspect Hope might need to be carried back to the house after exhausting herself.
“Blunt is having a baby with Care Bear,” Hope says, dragging herself back to the present. “Clutch doesn’t like talking.”
