Six

 

Liv

 

Green Eyes placed me in a room and cut the rope around my arms, slamming the door shut behind him on his way out. The sound of a lock followed and then his footsteps faded away. I’d been too scared to remove the blindfold, still shaken by that man. For some time, I stood there, my feet rooted to a hardwood floor, unsure of what to do.

Every inch of me felt paralysed. The last time I’d felt like this was a few years ago when I had a night terror. I’d woken in the middle of the night sensing someone was standing by my bed, and even though I knew it was in my head, I couldn’t seem to let my body understand. I had been frozen to the mattress for over an hour, slowly shaking the presence of the imaginary figure standing there. It had always been Bogeyman, haunting me, the ghost I’d conjured in my head to terrify me when I was alone, or vulnerable.

And I felt fucking vulnerable now more than ever before, but Bogeyman was the least of my concerns.

When I was finally able to stir, I removed the blindfold, blinking rapidly at my surroundings. I took in the tiny room I was alone in. There was a single bed with a thin blanket and a patio looking chair beside a small barred window letting light in. On the other side, there was a door that led to what I figured was a bathroom. And that was it. There was nothing else but me.

I went to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. My body felt sorer than it had ever been, especially my arms. Moving them was agony. I put my hands in my lap and sat there for a while, allowing the silence in. I never liked being alone, but for the first time I felt relieved to be. It let me be weak without being witnessed. My façade at seeming indifferent came at me like air did, but inside I was a trembling mess. I buried my face in my hands and let the tears escape. Just as quickly, I wiped them away and took a few calming breaths.

You’re alive. You’re okay. So long as you’re breathing, you’re okay, sweetheart.

I found it funny I was using my father’s words to soothe me. He had only ever been soothing once, and that was when he found me. After that, he had remained cool and distant, regarding me more as an asset than a daughter he claimed I was. That was probably the last thing I should have had on my mind, but there it was, my father of all things.

I forced myself up and went straight to the bathroom, feeling relieved I’d gotten that right when I swung the door open. My bladder was about to burst, and maybe it had on the plane ride here. I couldn’t tell when my legs were already damp with sweat. Lifting my dress up was hard. Every movement exhausted all the muscles in my body, but I did what I could.

The toilet was cracked and looked like it’d seen better days, but it flushed, and that was better than squatting in a hole in the ground. There was an ancient looking bar of soap on the sink. I debated using it, wondering what other hands had touched it, but one look at my hands and I knew I had no choice.

“Still better than the tunnel,” I reminded myself.

The squeaky faucet turned and spurted water in all directions, which, again, was better than no water. I grabbed the soap and washed my hands thoroughly, desperate to remove all the grime collected under my nails. Not knowing if the water was clean enough to drink, I resorted to splashing it on my face before blinking up at the faded mirror in front of me.

I almost didn’t recognize my reflection. I leaned in, taking in the dark bags under my eyes and pale complexion. The make-up had mostly faded, though it was smeared around the eyes. Covered in a streak of thick sweat, I looked deathly. I’d never seen myself in such a state since I was a kid. Since…my mother went to sleep.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” I closed my eyes, trying hard to grasp what her voice had sounded like. Time disturbed it, and I wasn’t sure it was hers or my imagination.

The door opened just then. My heart raced as I wondered if it was that man. It took me several seconds to get my breathing under control, and then I slowly stepped out of the bathroom, confused by what I was seeing.

There was a woman setting a tray of food on the bed. She angled her head to me when she heard me step out. Then she straightened herself and turned to look me over. I did the same.

She had blonde hair and it was tied up high. Her skin was tan and slightly red from the sun. She was tall, slender, and very beautiful. Her eyes were a light shade of green, her lips pink and plump. She was wearing a button up tee that she tied into a belly top, and a pair of long green cargo pants.

“I’m Christy,” she said in perfect English. “The guys said you would be hungry.”

I looked between her and the tray of hot food. Had she been ordered to give me something to eat? Was she too abducted then, or forced here?

I looked back at her, inspecting her comfortable demeanour and cool expression. I caught the way her eyes trailed me again, and the faint jut of her right eyebrow, like she was bewildered by me. Why was she looking me over so critically?

She couldn’t be like me, I decided straightaway. She was too relaxed. Too poised and sure of herself.

“There’s a bucket in the bathroom. You can fill it up to wash the mud off yourself. I can also get you a change of clothes, if you want.” She waited expectantly for me to answer. I kept my lips shut, deciding not to respond to her. She was part of them, I could see that from a mile away.

She would have quickly realized I wasn’t going to talk, but she didn’t leave. She inspected me again, this time less critically. “I’d hear about you, you know,” she murmured, wistfully. “The secret daughter of Milo Dillinger, imprisoned in her ivory tower while the rest of the city kids starved and struggled. It’s nice to see what you look like in the flesh. It’s been a hot topic around lately. There aren’t a lot of pictures of you, you know. None too recent, anyway.”

She didn’t say that rudely, more introspectively. She was talking about a time there when my father had to flex his muscles and inventory in the grocery stores were cut short in response to an attack from a small gang threatening to take his turf. His starvation stint was a punishment and warning to the people to not fuck with him again. It worked, and when they found out about me, I was made out to be a privileged princess. Nobody knew about my past, and my father worked to keep it that way. Although, let’s be honest, nobody knew about me back then either. I had been invisible, a nameless wanderer. It used to bother me I was made out to be a disconnected, spoiled bitch, but their ignorance was justified. They didn’t know about the start of my life. I would probably have felt the same.

My father did his best to keep me out of the spotlight. His reasoning was simple: the less attention was on me, the less danger I would attract. I kind of wanted to scoff at him in that moment. He failed epically.

This Christy woman seemed genuinely intrigued by the story my father threw at everyone when he took me in and slowly revealed he had a daughter. But I wasn’t going to give this woman squat about it. Not when I had other things on my mind.

“My cousin,” I said, instead, “where is she?”

“Your cousin?” she repeated, confused.

“Is she here? Did they bring in another woman?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Are you just saying that?”

“It’s just you,” she said, firmly.

Had they left Sonja and just taken me then? I hoped for that desperately. But if it was revenge against the faction, they would have taken her too.

“Reaper will come see you soon,” she then informed me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You should eat and clean yourself up before then.” Being clean was the last fucking thing on my mind. I stood still, waiting for her to leave. She caught the gist and nodded once. “I’ll be back too.”

When she left, I waited a few moments, listening carefully as her movements faded away. Then I went to the door and tried opening it. As expected, it didn’t even turn. Ignoring the pangs in my stomach at the smell of the food, I raced to the window at shoulder level and grabbed at the metal bars, pulling at them. Of course, they didn’t budge. Huffing, I looked out, taking in a series of pole construction cabins with thatched roofs, raised a foot off the ground on stilts. There was a fire pit to my right, just within viewing, and a couple men already gathered around it, kicking at a pile of ashes before attempting to spark another fire. I caught the back of the blonde coming to their side, setting a cast iron pot by their feet and speaking to them. They looked at her and smiled – fucking smiled – as she knelt and helped them. I was right about her.

Enemies.

Enemies everywhere.

My stomach growled louder, and I backed away, feeling angry at myself for wanting to eat. I’d gone hungrier before, for fuck’s sake. Eating their food felt like they were winning. It was silly to think that, given I needed energy in case I found the opportunity to flee. Still, that fucking stubbornness inside me fought me tooth and nail to resist from eating. But I needed to be logical about this.

Energy, Liv. You need it.

Ignoring the irrational side of me, I forced myself to sit down, inspecting the food closely. There was a bowl of soup with corn in it, but no spoon. On a separate plate was rice and red beans, and next to that was a bottle of water.

Choosing food over water, I gingerly picked up the tin bowl and rested my lips on the rim, taking small sips. It was warm and tasted like simple chicken broth, but it was already taste sensory overload. I made quick work of it, gulping it down. The feeling of it hitting my stomach was sensational. It was like I’d never eaten before. Throwing the bowl down, I grabbed at the plate next and didn’t waste time. I scooped the fork next to it and stuffed chunks of food down my throat. The rice was plain, and the red beans undercooked, but fuck that, it was amazing. Within minutes I was licking my fingers, relishing the taste.

I was in the middle of licking the plate when I heard footsteps outside the cabin. I stood up and hurried to the window, peering out in time to see the blonde walking behind…him. The man with predator eyes.

It was too soon.

Much too soon.

I backed away quickly, already hearing them approaching the other side of my door. Throwing the plate down, I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, consumed with anxiety. The food was going to climb up my throat any second. When I felt my legs wobble, I walked backwards and sat on the bed, waiting with bated breath.