Chapter 3 #2
Which was why she didn't care if her body got smashed to pieces on the rocks below her. Or if the waves dragged her under, giving her a watery grave. She’d been living out a death sentence for years now, her fate sealed the moment she was abducted by human traffickers, and she was more than ready to just get it over with already and die.
“No!” a voice shouted from somewhere above her. The man who had carried her out of her cage, who had touched her tenderly in the car, and who had tried to convince her to trust him, sounded genuinely horrified that she’d just jumped to what she was sure was certain death.
He didn't get it, though.
Couldn’t.
Even if he thought he did because he claimed he’d been kept in a cage as well.
Despite drifting away in her mind so often, she wasn’t lost inside its depths.
Maya wasn't so far gone that she didn't know the name of the man who called himself Master.
His name was, in fact, Dr. Gardner, and he was a crazy, sadistic, delusional, psychopathic scientist who believed he was a god who was going to create a new and superior race.
Seconds were ticking past, carrying her further away from Master, and closer toward her chosen destiny.
The man above her could be worried she’d just jumped off a cliff, but she knew it was only because he would get in trouble for not delivering her to be sold to her next owner.
Never again would she make the mistake of believing anything anyone said to her.
The landing was harder than Maya had been expecting, probably because she hadn't properly prepared for it, too busy being lost in the freedom that her fall gave her.
Still, the freshness of the cold water engulfing her in an icy embrace quickly overrode the shock to her system. The water felt so good against her bare skin, it was nature at its finest, and she didn't care about anything else.
She was free, and for this blissful moment, that was all Maya cared about.
Making an attempt to swim to the surface was the furthest thing from her mind, and instead, she allowed herself to sink deeper into the depths of the ocean.
The current was strong, tossing her about like she was nothing, and since she already knew she was nothing but a teeny, tiny, little dot in the vastness of the universe, she didn't worry about it.
Worry had no place down there.
Here she could drift, be content, succumb to whatever was going to happen, and on her own terms.
When darkness began to edge into her mind, Maya didn't fight against it. Why would she? She was ready for the end, proud that she’d managed to fight through the fog she usually encouraged to waft around her and find her own way out.
Lulled into a sleepy state by the water that was constantly rocking her, she had a smile on her face as she finally slipped away.
Death was a mercy that she would never take for granted again.
Her mouth opened, her burning lungs screaming for air she couldn’t care less about, and in its place came a rush of water.
Then there was nothing.
Until a burning rush of bile choked her as it rushed up her throat.
Someone was touching her, rolling her, stroking a hand down her back, and immediately Maya was gripped by fear.
No.
So close to freedom, only to be snatched back from the brink.
She wasn't dead. The man from the cliffs must have jumped into the ocean after her, found her and somehow gotten her out of the water. Now he was bringing her back to life, but she didn't want to live.
It was so unfair.
But there was nothing she could do about it. Like always, she was never in control of herself. She had no autonomy and was something to be used and abused for other people’s desires.
“Come on, babydoll, get that water out,” the voice soothed, and it was so gentle, so encouraging, all soft and sweet, that she hated this man more than she’d ever hated another person in her life.
More than she’d hated the people who kidnapped her. More than she hated the men who had trained her and prepped her for sale. More than the four men she’d belonged to in the years that had passed.
He had no right to be nice to her when he had stolen her choices from her.
“Breathe, babydoll, just breathe for me,” the man continued, and she was moved again. Rolled onto her back against her will, the movement seemed to make her eyes pop open.
She hadn't even known they were closed.
Rage simmered beneath her skin, she didn't care who these people were, didn't believe their lies, and had no intention of trusting them. If she had the strength to do it, she’d kill every single one of them and not feel a drop of guilt about it.
“Everything is going to be okay,” the man leaning over her said.
Those ridiculously stupid words, possibly the most idiotic she’d ever heard, stoked the fires of her rage, and she lifted a hand and slapped away the one he had resting on the top of her head, his fingers brushing almost hypnotically across her forehead.
For a second, the man’s eyes widened, and she braced herself for his returning anger, but instead of screaming at her, hitting her, or reprimanding her in any way, a huge grin suddenly broke out on his face, and he laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not a slight chuckle, but a full-on head thrown back, belly laugh that rumbled through the otherwise quiet night.
Was this man as crazy as she was?
“There’s my girl,” he said when he calmed down enough, and his hand rested on the top of her head again, ruffling her hair this time.
Definitely crazy.
She wasn't his, and she didn't like him saying she was.
Didn't like him touching her either.
When she lifted her hand, intending to slap him away again, he merely grinned at her and removed his hand.
“Got it, no touching,” he said, his voice strong and sure, confident, secure in the knowledge that he had the upper hand and held all the power.
He wasn't wrong.
What power did she have to save herself? Her one chance at freedom at the bottom of the ocean had been snatched away from her, and she was furious about it.
“Not that I want to make you angrier, babydoll, but we need to get you out of here, and unless you're going to cooperate and come with us, there’s going to have to be a little touching.”
Of course, there was. This man—these men, because she could see all six of the shadowy figures circling around her—would touch her however he chose.
He could have sex with her, she was too weak to fight him off, and she’d been trained not to resist anyway.
He could kill her if he wanted, but she knew she wasn't lucky enough for that outcome.
“I know you still don’t believe me, but we are not going to hurt you. We are going to get you the hell off this island, and once you tell me your name, we’ll find your family and make sure they know you're okay.”
When the man paused, Maya knew she was supposed to offer up a name, but she couldn’t do it.
It had been too many years since she’d last spoken a word, and she had no intention of changing that.
She didn't believe these men would take her home, and even if they did, she didn't want to go home. That part of her had died a long time ago, and she’d made her peace with letting them go, recognizing that after what she’d been through, there was no going back.
Since she didn't offer up a name, the man nodded to someone else, who moved in closer.
Panic flared to life inside her, but she was too slow to react.
Missed her opportunity.
“Sorry,” the man whispered as he grabbed her and held her down while someone else stuck her with a needle.
Whatever was inside it acted quickly. Her body grew heavy, her mind grew lighter, and as she slipped into unconsciousness, Maya tried to prepare herself for whatever horror she would wake to.