Chapter 34—Ruby
Have you ever been hungry? Like you could throw up from craving food so much? That type of hunger when you question if you can feel full from eating your fingernail?
I’ve never gone without before. I’ve been hungry, sure. Skipped meals here and there because I was busy and wanted to push through. But I always knew at the end I could eat. That there would be something to fill my stomach.
Now I don’t know when it will come.
Once we were in the van, I fought. I fought long and hard and got beaten down easily. Everything hurt—my face, my stomach, my legs. I was kicked and punched so much that I feared I would die in that van. But I didn’t know then that I would soon wish it were true.
Someone was mad. And they took that out on me.
But I never saw a face. Never heard a word.
They wore ski masks and spoke so quietly that I never got anything more than a word here and there.
And when I did think I heard something, it was in Spanish.
Something I never learned. I chose French in high school because I liked to talk about pastries and say I was speaking in French when I ordered them.
I don’t know how long we were in the van.
Seemed like days. Natalie and I were both stuck with something at one point, and I only remember flashes of what happened between then and now.
I think we were put on some kind of cargo plane.
I remember looking out a window at some point and seeing trees from high up like we were flying.
But the rest of it was just being carried from one place to another.
And not in friendly arms. Arms that had hands with roaming fingers that dug deep, and when I pushed them off, their owner’s deep laugh rolled through me before I was tossed onto the ground.
I banged my head more times than I can count.
I don’t even know if I can count anymore or if it’s just brain damage.
Because if there is damage, that would explain what I’m seeing. Or what I’m not. Just gray. Everything is gray. The walls. The floor. Even my skin looks gray.
Nat doesn’t look any better than me. She got hit a few times, based on the swelling on her face, but I didn’t see when it happened. They threw us both in here, wherever here is.
I hurt still, but it seems that time has been a friend to me, as some of the swelling has gone down enough that I can open both eyes. After we got here, the beating I had in the van seemed liked child’s play compared to what I was put through. And for no other reason than they could.
“You okay, Nat?” It’s a stupid thing to say, but I need something stupid. Something to ground me. Anything to keep me focused on this and not the pain in my stomach.
“No,” she croaks out, then licks her lips only to wince at the crack in them. “You?”
“Same girl. Same.” I place my head against the wall and pull my knees up to rest my arms on. There isn’t an ounce of hospitality in here. Not even a piss bucket. Not that I have to go. You need food and water for that. I’ve had none since the breakfast tacos.
Just the thought brings a rumble from my stomach. I ignore it. Or try to.
“It goes away.” I turn to Nat and give her a questioning look. “The hunger. Eventually, it goes away.”
“How would—” I don’t finish my sentence as a flap at the bottom of the door opens, and a tray is pushed through. Two bowls of soup and what looks like bread sit on it. The smell coming off it is better than the smell in here, but not by much.
I look at Nat, who looks at me. We wait, and then I move to the door. I look it over and reach out tentatively to touch the flap. My hand shakes as the fear that it’ll be snatched up the second I get too close to it rises. We didn’t hear any footsteps leaving. But we didn’t hear them come either.
I push on the wood, and it doesn’t budge. I try to use the tips of my fingers to pry it up, but there’s no give. They locked it somehow. I look at the food, and my stomach gurgles once more.
“Hungry?” I ask Nat and give her half a smile.
She shakes her head, fear clear on her face.
She must be thinking what I am—that it’s poison.
Something to take us out. I’m tempted. More tempted than anything in my life.
More than when Dad told me girls couldn’t ride motorcycles, and then he left the keys to his bike just sitting on the table.
I would have taken it out that night if Mom hadn’t come in and noticed.
But Mom isn’t here to tell me it’s a bad idea.
She’s dead. Like Dad. Like I will be, too, if I don’t eat.
“Fuck it,” I say and grab the bread. Slowly, I bring it to my mouth.
“Don’t eat it.”
I look at Nat, but her eyes are as wide as mine.
That voice.
It wasn’t hers.
“Who’s that? Who’s there?” I stand and walk to the wall. The one Nat was leaning on, opposite the one I was at. There’s a grate there, above my head.
“Don’t eat it.”
“Eat what?”
“The bread. They lace it with something. One minute you’re awake, the next you’re not. It knocks you out.”
“For how long?”
“Don’t know. Seems like a second, but then you wake up and feel cold, as if the sun went down.”
There aren’t any windows, but there’s a light.
Nothing bright to push the gray away, but enough to see what’s in front of you.
But I get what she’s saying. I feel hot in here.
Sweat trickles down my spine. Not blazing, but not comfortable.
If it feels like this in what I can only assume is the daytime, then nights would feel considerably cooler.
It’s not much, but at least it’s a way to track time in the outside world.
Nat’s still sitting, watching me as I stand beside her.
I look at the vent, then back at her. I press my finger to my lips to keep her quiet, then gesture for her to come closer.
She scoots quietly over, and I point to myself and then to the ceiling.
She nods in understanding as she stands and braces her legs before cupping her hands together over her knee.
I grab her shoulders, put one foot in her grasp, and bounce.
One, two, and on three, I rise and Nat pushes me high.
I bring my other foot to her shoulder and stand on them as I reach for the vent.
I can see through it, as it’s mostly just a hole between the two rooms covered by a small grate like you find at the bottom of a shower drain.
The room is similar in every way to ours. Nothing on the floor. No window to look out of. Everything’s the same, but there’s only one girl in this one, not two.
She’s walking in a circle. Barefoot, like us. They took my boots and boot knife the second they got us into the van. Well, after the first beating.
She’s wrapped in leather pants that are fitted to her legs and a tank top that’s tight and low. She looks like a vamp. Bet she even paid for her chest. The long black hair against her pale skin probably looks sexy as hell if she curls the ends and has the right amount of eyeliner to go with it.
But that’s not what’s happening. Her hair looks limp. Dirt covers a lot of her. And her mascara—well, if she had any makeup, it’s gone by now.
She looks just as scared as we do, but strong enough to speak up, and she’s not leaning against the wall and wallowing in pity like me.
I don’t begrudge myself for doing it. I’m strong; I know I am.
But I was taken. Saw people I know get shot and probably killed.
I was beaten. Drugged. Flown somewhere, and that can’t be good.
Hunger was the easiest thing to hyperfocus on, and now I have another.
Like what got her grabbed. Was this all random or selective?
“Hi.”
She stops at my voice and looks at her grate, seeing my face. She backs up a step to get more of a view.
“Hi.” Her smile is brief and tentative. Like mine.
“Do you know where we are?”
She shakes her head.
I lick my lips as I try to think beyond my panic. “How long have you been here?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. What day is it?”
“I don’t know. It was the twenty-fifth when we, um… when we were taken.”
“Okay, I guess a few weeks, then. It was Valentine’s Day when I woke to… well, this.”
I look down at Nat. Not because I’m worried she can’t hold me, but because I want to make sure she heard. The look on her face as she stares at me lets me know she did. And that she fears for us too.
I swallow and look back at the other woman. I don’t want to crush her hope, but she needs to know. “It’s April.”
“What?”
“April 25. Before… before all this.”
She walks a step back till she hits the wall and sinks to the floor. “Two months? I’ve been here that long?”
The strength she once had evaporates before my eyes.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
Tears escape her eyes as she looks at me and doesn’t even bother to wipe them away.
“Ava.” She sniffs. “What’s yours.”
“Peaches,” Nat says loud enough to carry through the vent. I look at her in confusion.
“What?” Ava asks as if she didn’t hear.
Nat’s eyes narrow, and she nods at me as if to say, “Continue with the lie.” Something in her gaze has me complying. “Peaches.” I look back at Ava. “Call me Peaches. And my friend, um, I mean, her name is… Daisy.”
No idea why I’m giving out a Mario Kart name for Nat, but she doesn’t protest. Ava either doesn’t see through it or just doesn’t care for the mind games when she’s dealing with the ultimate mindfuck of finding out how long she’s been here.
Which gives me zero hope. Especially since I have no one looking. I just walked out on everyone that I ever cared about. If Dad was still… Dad, I would have an army looking for me. I would have zero doubts.
But the way I left? The things I said? To Dad? To the club? To Kooper?
That last one has me slouching, deflated, and Nat lowers me.
We’ve said enough to our new roommate. She doesn’t seem like she’s up for a little girl talk. I’m not either.
I sink to the ground and sit by Nat, our shoulders touching. I speak softly. Not only because I don’t want Ava to hear, but I’ve run out of energy after thinking of what all I’ve thrown away.
“Why the lie?”
I feel her shrug, moving my shoulder as she does it, but I keep looking ahead at the blank wall in front of me.
“We don’t know her. It could be a trap.”
“You really think they would do that?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know anything. All I know is that we’re here, and we need to survive. Sometimes, most times, that comes at a price.”
I turn to her, face scrunched in confusion at her words. She rolls her head on the brick wall behind her to turn my way.
“They took us. They could have killed us, but they didn’t. They want us alive. Not sure for how long or why. We need to survive till we do. We need to know what they want.”
“How are we going to find that out?”
She lets out a breath and looks forward again, closing her eyes as if she’s about to sleep. “They always tell you. It’s no fun for them if we don’t know what to fear. And if their words don’t do it, they’ll pit our relationships against us. Both new and old. Making us fear for the other.”
“How do you know all this?”
She shrugs but says nothing more.
“What about the soup?” she calls out to Ava.
There’s a pause before she answers. “Not drugged, but it tastes like piss.”
Nat opens her eyes and looks at me, then moves to the tray, pulling it closer to us. There’s no spoon. Guess we’re meant to use the bread to scoop it up. Instead, Nat leans down and smells it, then tilts to the side and gags a bit.
“Told ya,” Ava says as she hears Nat. “But it’s kept me alive all this time.”
The hollowness in her voice brings a pit to my stomach. Will I be like that? Will I still be here in two months? Will Ava? Will Nat?
“Right,” Nat says as she squares her shoulders and pinches her nose. Then she leans close and sips at the soup. She keeps gagging but doesn’t let any of it come up. I guess forcing it down once is enough for her, as she leaves the rest for me and sits back on the wall.
“Your turn,” she says, and it brings a surprised smirk to my lips. One that has her lips twitching in return. Who knew we could find humor in this?
“It wasn’t a lie.” Her voice is soft again. Quiet, but not out of fear of Ava hearing. Just softly as if she’s afraid to tell the truth.
I just stare at her, and she takes a second before she looks at me. “You really are Peaches. His Peaches.”
I blink back the wave of emotion that her words bring. I lean over and rest my head on her legs as she runs her hands through my hair.
And then I let the tears fall. Not sobs. Just tears. Tears that I’m lost. That I’m forgotten.
But also tears that she’s right, and I never got to tell Kooper that I claimed him, too, just as much as he claimed me.