I can’t get over this sick feeling I have, like I’m going to heave up the tiniest bit of water I’m able to swallow. I need to force it down, but it’s hard. The food smells amazing. Chicken carbonara, with fresh Parmesan. I want to devour it. My stomach rumbles for it. But as soon as it touches my lips, I have the urge to throw it up. Kane keeps looking at me. He wants me to eat and I want to eat too, but I’m going to be sick. I’ve felt like this ever since the ride home. Kane was silent; he didn’t even look at me once.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I killed him. And I’m so fucking happy I did. At the same time, I’m scared to death that it’s not real. That it’s fake. I’m convinced it’s a setup, and he’s going to walk in here any minute and punish me. I keep picturing him over and over, clutching his throat and then nothing. Completely gone.

Is it possible? I saw them kill so many people. But I never had this feeling. The feeling it wasn’t real. I’m terrified he’s going to come back.

I also want to do it again. I need to do it again. I’ve never killed before, but he was only the first. I’ll handle this sick feeling every day for the rest of my life in exchange for the rest of them lying in the dirt with bullet holes in their heads. An image of him flashes before my eyes. His face covered in dirt, his hair a mess. Laying lifeless with his eyes open and a neat hole right in the center.

Kane sets the fork down on his plate and the clinking of metal on ceramic makes me jump in my seat.

“I need you to talk to me,” he says from across the table.

I nod my head and swallow the lump growing in my throat. “What would you like to know?” I gently set my own fork down and stare at him with my hands clasped on my lap. I need to be sure I give him my full attention.

He’s angry. I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but with the others, the slightest thing set them off when they were angry.

“I hate it when you do that,” he says, and it makes chills go down my spine. My breath falters, and I struggle to respond. I don’t know what I’ve done. “Fuck!” he says under his breath, as he pushes the chair back, and the legs drag loudly across the floor. He walks over to me with determined strides, and I resist the urge to cower.

I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’ve obviously displeased him.

“We were doing good earlier. Before it all happened.” Is this a test? He told me to forget. I don’t know how to respond.

I open my mouth to respond, but I have to cover it. Sickness climbs my throat and I just barely push it down. A wave of heat rolls over my body. I’m vaguely aware that I’m in his arms as he moves through the house to get to the nearest bathroom. He sets me down on the cold tile floor and pulls my hair back as I lean against the toilet. I focus on pushing the urge down. I don’t want to be sick. I hate the feeling of throwing up. He stands behind me holding my hair, and patiently waits while the nausea settles.

After a long while, I try to move.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly behind me.

I nod my head and apologize, “I’m sorry.” He lets go of my hair and holds me against his chest. My face still feels hot, and every bit of energy has left me. I brace my hands on his chest, but I don’t push away. I lean into him instead. His arms wrap around me and he rubs my back.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, Kane.” I answer as I should, even though everything feels different between us. Lines have blurred and I’m not sure what’s expected of me. I like answering him though. I want him to know I am alright. I swallow and push away slightly.

“Do you want to go lie down?” His dark eyes look down at me, and I find myself mesmerized. I shake my head no and then force myself to look away. I bring a shaky hand to the back of my neck and then we both look down as my stomach growls.

“Can you eat?” he asks.

I’m quick to answer, “Yes.” I’m starving, and I really do want something. I’m not sure I can handle what he’s served me, but I’ll try.

“Maybe soup?” he suggests.

My eyes itch with the need to cry. I feel so overwhelmed with emotion. “Please,” I answer.

“I saw some in a cabinet in the kitchen. I'll heat some up for you. Head upstairs, and I’ll be up in a minute. Alright?” He pushes the hair out of my face and I lean in as he cups the side of my head.

He leans in and kisses my forehead. I find myself wanting more. But I’m grateful with what he’s given me. “Go upstairs and lie in bed. I’ll be up soon.” I nod my head, but as I start to say “Yes, Kane,” his lips brush against mine in a soft kiss. I close my eyes, needing more. But I feel the air shift and hear him walk away. When I open my eyes, I’m alone.

It’s a long walk up the stairs. I brace myself on the railing. I feel slightly sick and lethargic. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m just so tired. It must be everything weighing down on me.

I felt something like this before, although it was different, the first few weeks of this new life. My life of imprisonment. I crawl onto the bed and lie down. I can’t help remembering how everything was supposed to be that day.

I was going to help Marie with her calculus. Summer break was nice, but that’s only because I didn’t take summer semester classes. My sister did, though. She had to retake it. It was a Thursday, her final was the next day, and then we were going to celebrate. I can still hear myself scolding her for not studying like she should have. My dry eyes itch with the need to cry, but the tears don’t come. Do you want to fail? ‘Cause you sure as fuck aren’t acting like you care! I was so pissed. So angry that she wasn’t trying.

I know we were handed a life of luxury. We’d never have to work a day for the rest of our lives if we didn’t want to. But I was so angry that she’d pissed away another semester. I mean, fuck calculus, but don’t sign up and then waste it. My heart thuds painfully in my chest. It never mattered. I never should have yelled at her. I swallow thickly as I see her face down on the table, bullet holes in her back. I hear myself screaming as the men surround me. At first I wished they’d killed me instead. But after all this time, I’m grateful.

I never would have wanted her to go through this. I would have rather died than go through what Felipe did to me.

He was the first, while Felipe held me down. They tied me to a chair and each did what they wanted to me. I close my eyes remembering how much it hurt. Remembering the pain on my father’s face.

At first I blamed him. He did this. He’s a bad man, and they came for us because of him. But that’s not true. I spent weeks watching them hunt down my family. But then there were more. Innocent people who they took just for their own pleasure. Other families who were afraid to say yes equally as much as they were afraid to say no.

They’re horrible men who deserve to die a thousand agonizing deaths. I hate them with everything in me. My fists clench at my side. The three of them need to die. A small, wicked smile grows on my face. One down, two to go.

I was never this person. I would have never felt happiness at another’s misfortune. But there’s nothing about me that’s remotely the same as before. I was their prize. A gift to lend out to help seal deals.

They’ve made me a different person.

And they’ll die because of the monster they created.

Anger lights inside of me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this need. My forehead creases with confusion. Why does it feel like it’s been so long? This is my one goal. My one reason to live. As the thought registers, I hear the door open.

The anger dissipates and a soothing balm runs through me.

Kane.

He’s going to make me better. I just need to be his good girl. He’ll make everything better.