Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
Age 20
I stumbled backwards, tripping over the chair. It fell with a clatter as I slammed my head against the polished marble floor, intensifying the ringing in my ears. I blinked, the spiral raindrop chandelier overhead blurry, the diamonds winking and glimmering like whispering secrets.
Groaning in agony, I rolled onto my side and gulped in a breath, my throat burning with unspent vomit, and my head throbbing.
My chest was tight and contracted—my ribs were probably broken. I clasped the floor, the blood on my hands making my movements slippery.
I pulled myself forward—a scream ripping from my throat from the pain. And yet, I dug my shattered and crooked fingers into the flooring, desperate to get out of here.
Each shift forward burned.
I still couldn’t move my feet.
Sunlight danced across the floor as I slowly made my way, inch by inch, towards freedom.
The front door was still open and the roar of the ocean beyond reminded me of all the things I’d long forced myself to forget—now slamming back into me like thunder.
White sand, sea shells, ferry rides.
Laughter, soft kisses, happy smiles.
Hope .
And yet, the sea, it called to me like a beacon: it wouldn’t take much for me to pull myself up and fling myself over the edge.
We were high up enough that the flight downward would be a freefall, the ending quick.
My lips curled upward, a contemplative movement…and yet, I couldn’t.
I was stronger now.
Stronger than the pull towards the ocean and sweet, sweet death.
Stronger than the man who left me to suffer, alone.
Stronger than the parents who died while selling me off.
Stronger than the man on the floor, his warm, crimson blood spreading outward, clinging to my frame.
I kept on, gritting my teeth, swallowing down the agony as I crawled towards the side door, where my keys were hanging. The feeling would come back into my feet soon, and I’d find a way out of here. I would do whatever it took.
It was deep into the night by the time I made it outside, cold metal keys digging into the palm of my hand. I was out of breath, my chest heaving as I lay across the wheel to the shiny, black 1953 Rolls Royce.
I looked up. The night sky was dark tonight, deep and inky, with pearly white stars sprinkled across it like sparklers. A blaze of white raced across the sky, reminding me of a time, a whole lifetime ago, when I once felt cared for and protected.
Loved.
I blinked, reveling in the warmth that washed over me at the memory.
I’d been so scared the night of the hurricane. And yet, it was the first time in my life I’d felt so safe.
I smiled as my eyelids drooped. I was so tired.
Exhausted.
Slumber pulled at me, calling me under…
…
Until, the sound of footsteps crunching on sand made my eyes jerk open.
I clutched the keys tighter, positioning them in between my fingers in case I would need to use them as a weapon.
A man appeared from nowhere, flickering into sight like a mysterious apparition. When he saw me, he rushed forward, falling to his knees before me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, my eyes still heavy. “I think so.”
“Are you Tatiana? Tatiana Krapivnik?”
I blinked, fighting the pull to sleep. It had been a long time since I’d been called that. I managed to nod. “Yes.”
“Oh thank God.” He slid his hands under me, pulling me up and into his arms, waking me from my sluggish demise. “My name is Rook Undergrove. Do you recognize the name?”
“Maybe.” It was hard to think.
“Well I know you, and I’ve been searching for you for two years…”