Tia

I fell asleep in Salinger’s arms, his hard body warm and comforting against my back, his strong arms wrapped around me tightly. And when I dreamed, for the first time since Giles had been taken away, nightmares didn’t plague me.

Instead, I had visions of children, of babies, surrounding me. My own and others’ little ones. A new hope for the future. In my dreams, I’m not scared. Instead, I was drawn to them, comforted by their presence.

Two little girls smile up at me, one with bright red hair, the other with dark curls and even darker eyes. They giggle before running into the waiting arms of my husbands, who scoop them up and toss them, laughing, into the air, before catching them again.

I laugh with them, and even though in sleep I know it’s only a dream, my heart lurches with happiness.

A toddler crawls on the floor, and a wide-eyed baby is placed in my arms, settling only when it suckles at my breast, sending pleasing endorphins through my dream state, wrapping us all in a mother’s love. A love I have never known, yet with my eyes closed, I can offer it to the children around me.

Love.

Contentment.

Hope.  

Even sleeping, I know that nothing about the dream could ever come to pass, but I revel in it all the same. In this blurry fantasy, embodying everything that I can never have, I take what my mind offers at the moment, because I know I’ll need the strength of it in the coming days.

When everything changes.  

I toss and turn, suddenly cold, the dream-children slip from my arms and I am alone.

But I’m not alone, am I? I have my husbands. We’re already a family. With or without children, we’re one unit. Until death do us part. Those were our vows.

In the early morning hours, my mind hazy with sleep, I force myself to steady my breathing and curl up next to Salinger, his mother’s words coming back to me.

For all we know, she’s already pregnant.

It is possible.

And as much as I hope to one day bring another life into this world, I’m not ready for the complications that would ensue now. I already have enough to fear without adding the risk of pregnancy on top of it.

Giles must be my number one priority. Getting him out of whatever prison Salinger’s father has put him in.

His mother seemed adamant that they protect me, no matter the cost. But if that cost is Giles’ life, then she’s going to have a fight on her hands.

I fall back to sleep. This time, a dreamless oblivion meets me and I don’t wake for several more hours.

There are no windows in Salinger’s old bedroom, so when I roll over in bed and my eyes flutter open, the room is still pitch black, except for the red light of a digital clock on the side table.

It’s still early, but as I feel around the bed, I realize that Salinger is gone.

I sit up, jolted awake by the reality.

Where is he?

My heart rate speeds up.

I’ve never spent a whole night at his side before. Never spent as much time with him as I had yesterday. And in some ways, he now knows me better than any of the other men, even though we’ve never been intimate.

It bothers me that he won’t claim me. And even though his confession of love for me to his parents was a shock, I wonder if he didn’t say it to appease them. Another means to protect me. But why protect me if he doesn’t care?

The man is a mystery. One I want to unravel. And I would have by now if things weren’t so damn complicated. I’d have given him the piece of me he’d asked for a long time ago, the truth if I hadn’t thought it would put him at risk.

But now he knows who I am. All fronts are down. I’m exposed. Vulnerable. And yet he still keeps his shield up. And I’m left asking the same questions he was about me.

Who is Salinger Ward?

A small sliver of light rims the doorway. I’m still dressed, too tired last night to change into the oversized t-shirt Salinger found for me.

I slip out of bed and find my shoes, putting them on before slowly opening the door a crack. The hallways are clear, no guards, but I have no doubt there are cameras everywhere.

But I’m not doing anything wrong by leaving Sal’s old bedroom. I’m not a prisoner here. I’m a guest. At least, that’s what his parents would have me believe. We all know the truth. I’ll never be truly free.

Curiosity trumps fear, and I start down the hallway, stopping at a door that I’d seen Salinger glance at with an odd expression last night. I frown, remembering the grief in that look.

After a slight hesitation, I push open the door and walk in, flicking the lights on when I do.

It’s a little girl’s bedroom. I frown as I take in the pink walls. The framed paintings of unicorns and fairies, and the three-story dollhouse in the corner of the room. The name Hannah is written in purple wooden block letters above the twin-sized bed that’s covered in a fluffy, pale-pink duvet.

It’s so lovely. Nothing like the rooms of my childhood back at Saint Augustine’s. My dormitory was more of an orphanage straight from the pages of a Madeline storybook. Only instead of an Eiffel Tower out the window, there was the Seattle Space Needle poking through the relentless rain.

Salinger never spoke of a sister, but as I pick up the small-framed picture on the dresser and study the two blond blue-eyed children with their arms over each other’s shoulders, I have no doubt that’s who this room belongs, or rather belonged to.

Why had he never mentioned her?

Voices interrupt my thoughts. Two men, getting louder as they approach. I flick the bedroom lights off and hold my breath.

I know Sal’s voice when he says harshly, “I want to see him.”

“He’s half-dead already, he won’t even know you’re there.” It’s the Director that speaks, and my gut twists, because I know they’re talking about Giles. “His death certificate is practically signed. Let it be. He did you a favor by confessing. A way to keep your wife safe.”

“I promised Tia I would fight for him. That I’d do everything in my power to free him.”

“At the expense of her life?”

There’s a short silence.

His father grunts. “I didn’t think so.”

My heart sinks a little because I know no matter what happens, Salinger will choose my life over Giles’.

All my husbands will.

They’d rather an innocent man hang for my crimes then see me harmed. Why can’t they see how that is a worse sentence for me then whatever the Director could do, what my father or Lawson could do? Guilt and grief is the worst punishment of all.

I shift slightly from my position behind the door, and when I do, Salinger looks my way, his brows draw down, and I know that even though I’m hidden in the shadows he knows I’m here, listening. But he doesn’t give me up.

His gaze returns to his father. “She won’t leave here without seeing him. Not when she finds out that he’s here.”

Giles is here.

My chest squeezes.  

“Then don’t tell her.” The Director shifts slightly, so I can see his profile. “Secrets are power, son. When are you going to learn that?”

Salinger grunts and shakes his head. “I won’t leave until I see him. You have no right to keep him--”

“You forget who’s in charge here, son.”

“No, Father.” Salinger takes a step towards him and points a finger at his father’s chest. “I think it’s you who forgets. Don’t underestimate Mother. She will protect Tia.”

“I think it’s you who overestimates her,” the Director says coldly. “I still hold rule in Alaska, I’m the elected Director. I have the final say.”

Salinger chuckles, it’s a harsh sound, one that doesn’t sound like him. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

The tension between the two men is almost palpable. I can feel it crackling in the air. I hold my breath, wondering who will be the first to back down.

They stare at each other for a long moment, before his father finally gives a small nod. “Fine. You can take her to him. But like I said, I doubt he’ll know either of you. And I’m not sure you want that sensitive little wife of yours seeing him in his current state.”

I suck in a shaky breath.

When the Director starts to walk away, Salinger grabs his bicep, stopping him. “What did you do to him?”

There’s a deep, sinister laugh that sends goosebumps across my flesh. “Nothing worse than the mercenaries will do when I hand him over into their custody. The man is tough, I’ll give him that. He never broke.”

My heart pounded against my rib cage and I lean against the wall, trying my best not to let emotion win. But every cell in my body screams for me to jerk open the door and attack the Director with fists and nails.

I don’t care that he’s Salinger’s father, I hate the man.

There are more words exchanged, but I don’t hear them. A million tortuous thoughts go through my head. A million things that could have been done to my husband. Yes, Giles is strong. As strong as any man I know. But it doesn’t make me feel any better that he didn’t break because it just means they would have hurt him more.

Salinger though isn’t finished. “He won’t break. You’re asking him to confess to a crime he didn’t commit. What do you want with him?”

The Director laughs. “He already confessed. You were there.”

“Then why torture him?”

“People are always hiding something, son. You think your mother is a noble woman?  Yet you know her fixation. Her obsession. Above all else she wants her Lottery to not become a work done in vain.”

“Is that what she’s doing here? In this dome?”

“If you want that answer, ask her.”

“Damnit, Dad. Could someone in this family just be fucking straight with me for once?”

I can see the anger flaring in the Director’s face and I know Sal has pushed things too far.

Because of me. Because I criticized him for not knowing his mother’s truths. Shame flushes through me. I don’t want another one of my husbands in trouble for the things I put in their heads.

The Director says something that I can’t hear, and then his footsteps echo down the sterile hall.

Silence.

I close my eyes and wait, my heart pounding so hard in my ears, consumed by my thoughts of Giles. I startle when the door to the bedroom flies open, and Salinger flicks the lights on.

“What are you doing in here?” Salinger whispers sharply moving into the room.

“I...” I can’t even remember. My brain is a scatter of thoughts all centered around Giles. “I... I was trying to find you.”

Sal’s nostrils flare, but his anger doesn’t last as his gaze roams around the room, eyes softening even as he takes in everything. He drags his fingers through his shaggy blond hair and lets out a slow, uneven sigh.

Moments pass and I watch as Sal sits down on the edge of the twin size bed and picks up one of the many dolls that are laid across it, waiting for a child that I know in the deepest part of my soul will never come back.

Despite the colors and toys that fill the room, the shadow of death blankets it.

“Hannah was your sister?” I finally ask, wanting, no needing, to know more about my husband.

He nods. “My twin.”

“Oh.” In a world where babies are rare, twins are even more of an anomaly. I’ve read stories about women in the past giving birth to three, four, even eight healthy babies. But those stories seem more like myths and legends now.  

Salinger places the doll back on the bed, then drags his fingers over his face. “We should go. If mother knew you were in here... No one’s allowed in this room. Not even me.”

“What happened to her?” I ask, taking a step towards him, seeing the pain in his gaze, the guilt.

“Another story for another day.” He shakes his head, standing, his dark gaze not meeting mine. “She’s dead. That's all that matters.”

Except it isn’t. I can tell by his expression that there’s more to the story.

“Let’s go.” He takes my hand, turning the lights off as he shuts the door to whatever memories the room holds. “I know where Giles is. But he... Shit, Tia.”

“I heard your father,” I say, knowing he means to warn me about my Giles’ condition. I take a deep steadying breath. “I know what to expect.”

Except when we walk into the small, highly guarded room twenty minutes later, nothing could have prepared me for the broken, mutilated man I find.

“Giles,” his name comes out as a sob, and even Salinger sucks in a breath tinged with horror and shock.

Although the room has been set up as a makeshift hospital, with monitors and tubes running into his body, there are no comforts, not even a pillow for his head. And the thin white blanket, stained with dried blood only covering his waist to the top of his thighs, leaves all the horrors the sick bastards did to him, exposed.

Small, fresh wounds that look like they’ve been done by a scalpel, cover his body, and where his fingernails once were, are now only scabs. His face is the only part of his body untouched, but his cheeks are hollowed out and if it weren’t for the monitors that beep with his slow heart rate, I’d think he was already dead.

My knees weaken and my stomach coils.

Why keep him alive? Just to torture him?

The brutality of what’s been done to the man I love, because of me, is like a sharp knife to the gut.

And I know that the Director had every intention of letting me see him. It’s all a warning, sent to me. He wanted me to see him here, like this, to understand the weight of this world.

To keep me quiet.

My legs barely carry me across the room, and I’m almost afraid to take his hand, that I might hurt him with even the gentlest touch.

I lean over and brush my lips against his, my tears rolling down my cheeks and onto his face.

“Giles.” This time I whisper his name as I brush my knuckles across his face, along his dark red beard.

His eyes flutter, but they don’t open.

“Tia,” he mumbles, the word rough, like it pains him to speak.

“I’m here.” I take his hand in mine, trying to fight back the grief that chokes me. “I’m here, Giles. So is Salinger. We’re doing everything we can to get you out of here.”

“No.” His eyes open then, and what I see in the blue depths is fear. “No.”

“It’s okay.”

“You... can’t... be here.”

“I’m all right.” I lean over him and place my palm on his cheek. “Salinger is here. I’m safe.”

“No.” He tries to get up, but there’s no strength left in him, and he falls back on the bed, wincing, eyes closed again. The beeping of the monitors increase and so do his breaths. “Get...her...out...of here.”

Salinger is behind me, his hands rested on my arms. “She’s safe. I promise.”

“No.” This time the word is a deep guttural growl of warning. But whatever he wants to say, the pain steals it from him.

“Giles?”  I place both hands on his cheek, begging silently that he’ll wake up again, that I can give him some small comfort. But unconsciousness has claimed him again.

“We should go,” Salinger says.

“I can’t leave him here. Not like this.” Tears stream down my cheeks again, uninhibited, and I turn and pound my fists on Salinger’s chest. “Look what your father did to him.”

He grabs my wrists and places his forehead against mine. “I know. And I’ll do everything I can to get him out of here, but...”

“But what? He’ll die if he’s left like this.”

“I’ll talk to my mother.”

It’s not enough, but it’s something. The woman is probably Giles’ only hope now.

I’m still not sure I can trust Salinger, but I have no other choice. Giles’ life depends on it.