Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
And then on his back…
His tattoo. His memorial to his fallen friends—along with scars that could only have come from a leather whip.
I should know.
I have them too.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, sliding my fingers over a scar across his chest.
“God, so are you. So fucking beautiful.”
I open my mouth, ready to ask him if I’m still beautiful without a nipple…but then I choose to stay silent. He said I’m beautiful. He’s seen all of me, and he still says I’m beautiful.
He touches me, cups my breast, thumbs my one remaining nipple and the area where the other one would be. He doesn’t ask any questions. Does he want me to volunteer the information?
He’ll be waiting a long time then.
I don’t remember most of what I endured on that island, but that time?
That time, I remember with vivid clarity.
Diamond gave me Nike running shoes this time.
“Why?” I ask her
“I just do what I’m told, Garnet. But use them. Use them to the best of your ability.”
I nod. The running shoes mean only one thing. Whoever is hunting me today is as athletic as I am—probably more so.
After all, whoever it is hasn’t been through hell for the last couple years.
In truth though? I’m probably in the best shape of my life. Running from these freaks, using my brain and hiding when I can, has kept me in better shape than the most vigorous volleyball training.
Running shoes.
“I’ll need socks,” I say.
“Yes, they’re inside the shoes.”
Sure enough, balled in the toe of each shoe is an athletic ankle sock.
“Do I get anything else? Clothes?”
She shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. Just the shoes.”
Whoever is going to catch me wants me to run. He wants me to run hard. Once he captures me, he doesn’t want to be bothered with having to take off my clothes.
Great. Just great.
A few of the girls have learned to have a sense of humor about all of this.
I have not.
I envy them sometimes. Their laughter. I’m not sure I’ll ever laugh again.
“Anything else you can tell me?” I ask Diamond.
“I wish I could, Garnet. They only tell me very little.”
“I can assume that whoever is going to hunt me wants a challenge,” I say. “Otherwise no shoes.”
She nods but says nothing.
“So my assumption is correct?”
“I’ve said all I can say.”
“Fine. I understand.”
“Garnet?” she says.
“Yes?”
“Run. Run hard and run fast. As fast as you fucking can.”
I widen my eyes. Diamond doesn’t normally use profanity, so she means what she says.
“I will,” I reply.
I will anyway, but now?
I really will.
An anvil lodges in my gut. No. Not now. I can’t have anything weighing me down.
I breathe in and out as slowly as I can, and though I succeed in dislodging the imaginary anvil, my heart flutters rapidly.
Adrenaline. A surge of adrenaline.
That’s what I need, and my body never fails me.
Please, don’t fail me now.
29
BUCK
The next morning we arrive at Aspen’s parents’ home in Denver proper. It’s a red brick two story with a gorgeous green lawn, obviously well cared for. Aspen is quiet in the seat next to me, and her bottom lip is red from her constant biting.
She looks beautiful, though. Her face bears no scars from her time in captivity.
“You want me to go in with you?”
“No,” she replies.
“Are you sure?” Things didn’t go as planned with Brandon, and I want to be there for her this time if she needs me.
“I’m sure. She clicks the door handle of the passenger side of the rental car. Then she turns to me. “I changed my mind. I’d like you to come in. I don’t think I can do this alone.”
I touch her soft cheek. “You understand they’re going to want you to talk. They’re going to want to hug you and kiss you and tell them the whole story.”
“That’s why I need you there. I don’t know the whole story, Buck. I have fragments of memories, sure. And even those I don’t want to share with my parents. How can I tell them what happened to me?”
“They know, baby. They already know what happened to you, or they can at least wager a good guess. It probably makes them sick inside.”
“I’m sure it does. I don’t want them to feel that way, which is part of the reason why I’ve resisted seeing them. But I do have to see them, and it has to be today.”
I don’t reply. I don’t want to think about the words Aspen said to me last night—that this may be the last time her parents see her alive.
This is a woman who saved herself. Who got through literal hell on earth and lived to tell about it. How can she be so indifferent about life?
Is it really more important to make the person who began this process pay than it is for her to live?