CHAPTER 2
Two men stand before Katya and me in her kitchen. Ice fills my chest, spreading over my lungs as far too many scenarios go through my head as I stare at the bald men. The instinct to run, find my sister, and hide with her, is straining my muscles.
But it’s Katya’s nonchalant presence keeping me in place as two pairs of brown eyes watch us with straight faces.
They look so similar.
“Evelyn, this is Brinn”—she points at the shorter, stockier man—“and this is Jay, his brother.” She nods toward the taller, leaner one, with softer features.
Ah, that makes sense.
Yet my nerves haven’t calmed. Fisting my hands, I try to hide my apprehension, but I don’t think it’s working.
“They look out for me,” Katya continues. “They’re usually either here, the apartment next door, or walking about the building. They’ve been staying out of sight while you two got more used to your environment, but it’s about time you met since you’ll see more of them.”
My chest staggers with heavy, strained breaths. Having these strangers around me is not my idea of security. Logically, I know that Katya’s ease around them should help me calm down, but… they are still men.
Visions of the man with a lisp snap into my mind, and a shudder ripples through my spine at the lingering disgust.
“It’s okay, they’re here for my security, and now for yours and Maya’s, too,” Katya says quickly, noticing the sudden shake in my bones.
I don’t think my sister and I are in enough danger to require security. What worries me more is the fact that I seem to have stumbled into a world where these people deem it normal to have their own security… just lingering about.
I shake my head. “Thank you, but we don’t ne—”
“There are others that will come and go as well,” she interrupts. “They will always report to Brinn or Jay, whichever one of them is here. They both have instructions to introduce you or make you aware of their presence until you remember who is who. Okay?”
Her words caught a stern tone toward the end, leaving no room to argue. I debate it for a few seconds, but in the end I nod. I understand that Katya and the others live a vastly different life than me, even compared to when my parents were still around, but on the clock security who have their own apartment next door?
Who is Katya? Who are all these people?
And why are we being given this privilege?
“If I’m not here and you feel unsafe, call for them.” She shows me a shiny phone and places it on the island counter. “This is yours. The red app on the first screen is a direct signal to them. If you want to go out and neither me nor one of the guys are around, use Jay or Brinn. They can drive you around, show you shops, cafés, the beach—anywhere you want, so you can get accustomed to Queenscove.”
I scowl, finding this situation rather ridiculous. First of all, we’re a bunch of nobodies. Two homeless, pretty much orphaned girls who got stupidly unlucky. Having a security escort is preposterous. On the other hand, I also want to burst out laughing at her mention of shops and cafés. Like I have money or can afford to be shopping around. I’m uncomfortable lounging in Katya’s clothes, but even if I had money to spare, it would still be spent making sure Maya has everything she needs. I don’t actually remember the last time I bought clothes for myself. And every time these people offered to do it for me, I refused.
I’ve taken too much from Katya already. I can’t accept this too. Hand-me-downs are fine for now. Not for Maya, though. She got some new clothes from her.
“I appreciate it, but they should stay focused on you. We don’t need any security.” That word tastes wrong on my tongue.
“Evelyn, they are focused on me. And you and Maya are here, so they are focused on you too. You have everything you need in this apartment, but we both know that you will burst out of your skin soon, being cooped up for so long. It’s not my place, but you’ve been through hell all on your own. This way, you won’t be alone as you see the city and get used to it. You’ll be safe.”
But being alone is exactly what I want. She’s both right and wrong about the whole bursting out of my skin business, but it’s not a matter of the future. I’m already there. The shivers, the cold sweats, the gnawing somewhere in the hollow of my chest is screaming at me. I want to go out. I want to be alone. I want to search the seedy streets of Queenscove to find something. I don’t know what it is, but my veins are begging for it either way. I’m afraid I may be willing to risk too much to find it.
Sinking my teeth into my tongue, I try to push the perilous thought away. But it’s been with me since I woke up from the daze. When I forced down the groans that came with each movement that made my body burn with pain. When I wondered who pulled my clothes back up? Who cleaned me, wiped the blood from between my legs? Was there any blood?
A few more memories came back to me, though they feel like disjointed nightmares, not things I experienced. Just over a week has passed, and I’m done remembering. I don’t want the memories to come back. I can’t… I can’t have them back.
I want oblivion.
“Hi, I’m Maya.” My sister jumps out of nowhere, startling me.
A drop of sweat trickles down my spine, and I’m itching to jump into a shower. A cold one.
“Hi,” the men say in unison. “It’s nice to meet you, Maya.”
Looking at my little sister, I realize that it would be stupid of me to fight this and refuse the privilege. It’s not about me. I wasn’t able to protect her, so why risk not having the extra hand that is so much more capable than mine?
“It’s my turn today,” Jay says, “but we wanted to drop by together to introduce ourselves. Get acquainted.”
“I have to leave for the day. I have quite a bit of work to do. But I will be back tonight,” Katya says, turning to grab her expensive looking bag off the bar stool. “I don’t think I’ll be here in time for dinner, but there is food in the fridge and the boys know the good take outs in the area as well.”
“Thank you,” I say, already knowing we will be eating whatever is available here.
I feel sorry about this. She hasn’t left this apartment since we came here. Not while I was awake, anyway. We’ve kept her away from her work, from whatever responsibilities she holds. I should ask her what she does for a living.
She’s only around mid-thirties, and this apartment cannot be cheap. Even if she rents. And the way she’s dressed—a tailored dark green pantsuit hugs her slender, tall body, and shiny high heels that must cost more than all the clothes I’ve ever worn are wrapped around her feet. She’s important, and I kept her from whatever fuels her lifestyle.
“We appreciate this… Brinn, Jay,” I say, finally addressing the men. “Thank you, Katya.”
Brinn nods and follows her out.
“I’ll be outside if you need me,” Jay says with an almost cold, impersonal expression in his features.
I want to ask him what he means by that. Where outside? Literally standing in the corridor? Will he stand or sit? I feel bad, but I don’t know the man, so I don’t ask a thing. He leaves a moment later, and for the first time since we were taken, Maya and I are alone. Not just that, we’re in a home. Albeit a neatly manicured one, but a home, nonetheless. No car. No shoddy motel. No… danger.
Looking around, it takes but a second to realize that I have no idea what to do with myself.
“Do you think Katya will mind if I take out one of her books?” Maya pulls my attention, standing in front of a narrow bookcase.
I head her way and glance at some of the titles—classics. Foreign titles, too. Kafka, Dostoevsky, Orwell.
“I’m afraid none of these books are for your age, honey.”
The complexities of the works are unsurprising for a woman like Katya. There is warmth in her, but it’s hidden under cold, hard layers only she can peel. She’s done it for me—briefly. She does it for Maya more.
Everyone does it for my sister, though. She bears our mother’s soft eyes, but not her personality. None of ours, actually. Maya’s a social extrovert in a family of introverts, and not only that, but people naturally gravitate toward her. Then she pries them open and doesn’t even acknowledge no as a valid answer. Or one that exists. She understands limits, but I swear she can see right through a person and notice that the limits they set are not the ones they truly want. So, she feigns ignorance and pushes on. She’s going to be a force to be reckoned with when she grows up.
I spot something familiar on the bookshelf. A book that looks out of place amongst the others, not because of the subject matter, but because of how cracked the spine is—Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, by Jules Verne. I reach for it and carefully slide it out.
“This one, Maya. I think you’ll like Captain Nemo’s adventure.” I flip briefly through its pages to make sure it’s still in good condition, then hand it over to her.
She reaches over, eyes sparkling with excitement, and turns it carefully in her little palms like it’s some sort of treasure. In two seconds flat she’s throwing herself on the sofa, the world around her lost. I won’t get a word out of her until dinner. But I can’t help but smile at her joy. Yet the muscles in my cheeks seem strained at the movement. Like they haven’t done such an exercise in so long.
* * *
Lights flicker from an overhead bulb. Two men speak around me—it’s him, the one who took me. The one who…
“You’re my glory hole now,” he speaks into my ear, his pronounced lisp sending tiny splatters of spittle along with the words.
I say nothing. I can’t. My tongue is numb and heavy in my mouth. It’s not clear if those words were actually spoken, or I imagined them. They float in my world of colors like they were thrown into the universe, and I happen to encounter them here.
Something sharp breaks through my skin, and an uncomfortable heat fills my body. Even after the weight of the man with the lisp leaves my back, the heaviness lingers. I want to reach for that sensation, wrap it in a soft cocoon, and nurture it back to something beautiful.
I can’t get to it, though. In this kaleidoscope of colors, that one is a void, and I can’t latch onto it.
“I think I’ll ask the boss to keep you. All to myself.” His voice echoes.
My mind reels. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine. My veins carry a fire in them, a comfortable one that tickles all my nerves, sending enough pleasure through the fibers, and the void seems to be pushed farther in the background.
I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s heaven and hell, beauty and sickness all at once.
A new person appears in my line of sight. Older, walking with a limp, and ordering everyone around.
“Vassallo,” I hear someone say. What a strange name.
I try to focus on their conversation, but the words don’t register.
They’re looking at me now. The voices grow louder.
“Why is she still alive?” the limping man asks, sending a deep shiver down my spine. “She’s too old.”
Too old? Oh yes, they’re talking about me. They were only interested in kids. Like my sister.
My sister! Where is she?
My brain begins to register who it belongs to, but those signals don’t reach my limbs. They refuse the connection with their nerves, but I need to find Maya.
Tar has my arms trapped, but a cold thread zaps through one of them. It moves, but I’m not sure I’m the one controlling it. It doesn’t feel like it.
None of this feels like me.
I can’t tell if my body is mine anymore. There is no longer a sense of being connected.
But when the limping older man presses his thick boot against my shoulder and rolls me over ever so slightly, I know that I don’t want to be me right now. Not when evil pours out of his gaze and spills onto me with such disdain, I don’t understand.
A scream driven by nothing but fear lodges in my throat. Something hot trickles at the corner of my eye. The younger of the two men drops on one knee next to me, leans in slightly, and reaches over. Stings rip my scalp as my head is yanked up by the hair, and a seedy grin contorts his face as he stares at me.
“I want to keep her,” he says to the older man standing next to him, his gaze fixed on me.
Then Vassallo cocks his head, and with one simple grin, he chills my bones.
“You might have to share this one.”
The scream bursts out of me at the same time my limbs are released, and my whole upper body shoots up. Only, I’m no longer in that warehouse, but sitting on a soft bed, surrounded by ridiculously fluffy pillows.
“Evie?”
I follow my sister’s voice, turning to my right, and lit up by the faint moonlight is her pretty face, marred by worry and slight fear.
“I’m so sorry, honey. It was just a bad dream. I’m sorry.” I lean over to kiss her soft forehead, then lie down next to her and scoop her in my arms.
“But you—you were crying and saying some things.”
The sleep leaves me in an instant and my eyes widen with the impact of her words. I’m scared to ask what I was saying.
“I’m sorry I woke you. It was just a nightmare. Everything’s okay.”
Only, it’s not.
I can’t do this to her—bleed my trauma onto her innocent soul. And the talking? It simply won’t do. I have to find a solution for this. A different arrangement. If we continue sharing a room and the nightmares carry on, it could traumatize her. Especially if I talk in my sleep about things that should never reach her innocent ears.
“What did I say?” I risk it because I have to know how grave it is or could be.
Maya hesitates for a moment. “You were mumbling about keeping something, then you kept asking for me. Where I was, I think.”
“I’m sorry, honey. Go on, go back to sleep.”
A soft knock sounds at the door.
“Yes?” I answer, but I can’t hide the apprehension in my tone.
It opens slightly and Katya peeks through, light streaming in with her. Brinn stands behind her, his expression stern.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yes, sorry, just a bad dream. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“No need to apologize. Do you need anything?”
“I’m okay. Thank you… I’m sor—”
She raises a palm to stop me. “I’m here if you need… anything.”
There’s an implication there. An invitation to be comforted, to talk if I need to. I’m grateful but talking is the last thing I wish to do. Talking means rehashing, and all I want to do is forget.
Not that I remember that much anyway.
I nod and she leaves, closing the door and returning us into darkness.
One thing I’m grateful for is that our experience didn’t take away from me the comfort of the shadows and replace it with fear. Whether dimly moonlit or pitch black, the absence of light brings me a sense of calm and security. It’s ironic, I know.
Why do I feel guilty that those horrible people didn’t take this away from me?
It shouldn’t be like this. Right? Other vic—No!
I will not say that word.
I am not that.
Stroking Maya’s hair, I urge her to fall back asleep, only I notice that the faint light I was seeing wasn’t moonlight at all. The sun rises slowly, and I urge myself to fall back asleep, even if just for another hour or so.
Only, my mind wanders. It wanders back to the man who came here with flowers he never gave me and left with ire in his eyes.
He confused me, and I’ve been trying to understand what happened for the last two days. He was eager, then a flip switched, and he couldn’t distance himself fast enough.
But unfortunately, that’s not all… my mind wanders to the brightness of his blue eyes, his messy, blonde curls, and to his high, defined cheekbones.
It’s all flavors of wrong.
Yet, I’m curious of the taste of them all.