Two full days passed before Mason and I made our trip to the white-sand beaches of Florida. Though we’d planned for it to be earlier, I couldn’t leave Madeline. For hours she’d talk and cry, only to fall asleep and then wake with a start.
I refused to allow her to wake alone.
In the course of thirty-six hours, she took six showers. Not one of them was taken alone.
I should say that through each one and throughout the course of her purge, I took the high road and simply accompanied her in the shower for her safety and well-being, and held her in bed for support.
I couldn’t.
During her stories, Madeline equated sex with a form of validation, especially consensual sex. It turned out that more than once in her journey through memories, she not only wanted but asked for that validation.
“Please, Patrick. I need to know you still want me.”
Her fists would ball as she pounded the wall. “No, I wanted to say no.” Her tear-filled eyes would turn my way. “Not now. Please, I don’t want to say it now…I want to say yes. Make me feel…loved.”
I may have been strong in many things, but turning down the woman I loved when she pled to be loved, taken, and made to remember what it was like to be with the one you love wasn’t one of them.
Sometime during the first night, I texted the others, telling them that Madeline had made a breakthrough, and I wouldn’t leave her. There was no argument, not even from Sparrow. What was said on 2 may have differed, but to the credit of my friends, no one said a word of dissension to me. The sun rose and set again as we continued her journey through memories.
Ruby came and went, bringing Madeline and me food and drinks from upstairs.
Yesterday evening, after delivering dinner, our daughter motioned for me to follow her into the living room. Madeline was asleep at the moment, the lights were on—as they’d been steadily since her recollections began—and the tray of food was on a small round table in my bedroom suite.
Assuring myself that Madeline was content, I met Ruby in the hallway near the living room. Her blue eyes glistened with tears. “Don’t let her drown, please.”
“I won’t.”
The next moment had the strangest effect on me.
All the time I listened to Madeline’s recollections, I allowed the need for revenge to build beneath my surface, my aggression coming out only as I repeatedly took my wife against the tile wall as warm water rained down or upon our bed. I’d tempered the emotion to the best of my ability, yet the need for blood grew with each of her stories.
The recollection of the room with the other pregnant women, the woman who dictated their movements, and the men who came and went made me want to lash out, to find every fucker who thought it was acceptable to fuck scared, dirty, starving women, and rip their fucking dick from their body and stuff it down their own throat.
The story about the auction, about McFadden, Ivanov, Elliott, and even Hillman, as well as a roomful of others, had me seeing red. As Madeline described the room down to a grandfather clock, I imagined inventive ways to take every one of them out. McFadden was in a high-security penitentiary, and yet that wouldn’t stop me.
It was the stories about being forced to prepare the other women that incited the most angst in her. In Madeline’s words and tone was an ache I couldn’t describe. Ivanov would die, I had no doubt, but there was no real revenge I could commit to avenge the injustice done to Madeline. The women were gone. The men of the bratva were guilty of their debauchery, but that wasn’t what haunted Madeline. It was her role.
Her recollections went on forever; each time she woke, there was another nightmare and a story to tell. The frequent need to clean away the past had me calling Araneae for lotions, perfumes, and sweet-scented washes and shampoos.
Through every story, tear, and burst of anger, I vowed to stay at Madeline’s side, to assure her that she was loved, and yet the rage and fury within me was hard to contain until…
Ruby’s request and my commitment.
“Don’t let her drown, please.”
“I won’t.”
And then my daughter did what I’d wanted to do since I first saw her. She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around my torso, laying her head against my chest. “Thank you for finding her.”
In one fucking sentence, the fury within me stilled.
It didn’t disappear; it calmed. It fucking solidified into steadfast resolution.
Reaching out, I returned Ruby’s embrace. When she stepped back, I said, “We’re going to make it. I promise.”
“He hurt her, didn’t he?”
“He? Ivanov?”
Ruby nodded.
“We’ve all been hurt in different ways. Her story is hers to share, but even if she never does, she survived. I know she’s having difficulty right now, but it’s because she’s the absolutely strongest woman I’ve ever known.” I allowed a smile to form. “When she’s better, we’ll tell you the story of how we met. I promise you’ll be proud.”
“Does it have to do with an apple?”
My head tilted. “How did you know that?”
“Her tattoo.”
How had I forgotten?
It had been prominently displayed as her fingers splayed upon the tile or she knelt on all fours upon the bed with her hands gripping the headboard as I took her from behind. It was there as she lay upon her stomach, worn out, her dark hair tousled and lips parted as she slept.
“See,” I said to Ruby, “she’s strong and resilient. Your mom will come out of this on the other side. We just need to let her find her way back.”
“You’re not a shrink. Isn’t Laurel a doctor or something?”
“She is.”
“Maybe she should talk to Mom?”
I nodded. “That’s a good idea. In time, we’ll see. In the meantime, we’re all here to support your mom.” I turned back to the hallway and back to Ruby. “I don’t want to leave her alone for long.”
“Araneae told me,” Ruby said, “about her husband and Mom.”
My chest clenched. “Fuck, Ruby, we were going to.”
Ruby grinned. “You didn’t stop yourself.”
The word hadn’t even registered.
I shook my head. “Your mom and Mr. Sparrow just recently learned the truth. None of us knew before a few days ago.”
“I think it’s pretty cool. It kind of makes living here seem even more right than it did before.”
I reached for my daughter’s hands. “I’m sorry it wasn’t your mom and I to tell you.”
Ruby shook her head. “No, it’s okay. It was Aunt Araneae.” Ruby giggled. “That’s not easy to say.”
“I’m confident she’d be fine with just Araneae.”
“She might be, but well, I’ve never had an aunt or uncle before. I kind of like saying it.”
She hadn’t had a dad either, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up.
“You call them whatever feels right.”
“Thanks. I’m headed upstairs. Tell Mom I love her.”
“She knows that, but I’ll remind her.”
With Ruby heading one direction, I stopped at the doors to my and Madeline’s bedroom with a jolt of revelation.
I’m a father.
I’m a husband.
And I’m a friend and soldier in the Sparrow army.
With the help of my colleagues, I would bring down every fucker I could. And during it all, I would find my level head because at the end of this battle, I had a family to return to.
Now, a few days later, Saturday, the plane we were aboard was about to land near Naples, Florida. During our flight, Mason had filled me in on what I’d missed.
I hadn’t told my friends the particulars of Madeline’s history, and I didn’t know if I would. The four of us shared enough mutual trust for me to simply state that she’d been through more than most and survived. The specifics weren’t up to me to share, just as Jana’s hadn’t been up to Sparrow or me to share with Aranea
e.
The saying was that time healed all wounds, and that was what I wanted to give my wife. She deserved time to heal with the knowledge that no one would harm her again.
Our next stop would help that process.
At least it made me feel like I was doing something.
Pastor Roberto and Kristine, the fuckers that put the entire chain of events into motion.
I looked at Mason, staring into his green eyes. “You’ve done this before?” I tilted my head toward the syringes on the table in front of us.
He nodded. “I should say I’m not proud, but damn, I took out some serious motherfuckers with this agent.”
“How is it not registered but being used by our government?”
Mason’s lips straightened. “Come on, Patrick, you think we’re told everything? Even those of us in the Order weren’t told all of the specifics. We were given an order and the means. I happened to keep some after one mission, and with Jack’s help, we analyzed it.” He nodded toward the syringes. “It’s better this way. You don’t want that shit getting into the wrong hands.”
I scoffed. “I’m not sure about the bad motherfuckers you took out, but I am sure that I’m glad the bad motherfucker Kader is on my side.”
The plane’s wheels touched down as I grabbed the two syringes and placed them in my suit coat pocket. “I want both Pastor Roberto and Kristine to know who did this to them.”
“You’ll have time to reintroduce yourself and give them a brief reasoning for their imminent demise. They’ll be cognizant for roughly five minutes—give or take one or two—before the bio-agent begins to wreak havoc on their nervous system. Voluntary muscles such as the tongue and ability to speak as well as move or control bodily functions are the first to go. I’ve watched top terrorists shit themselves. It’s the involuntary nerves, such as listening and comprehension, that remain longer. The agent acts like fire scorching everything in the path of circulation. The blood vessels sever as the tissue dissolves. Internal bleeding is the official cause of death. The question is if the arteries or heart bursts first.”
“And they feel it?” I asked.
“Every painful second. In my experience, the last words are usually blubbering apologies and pleas for help. There is an antidote.”
“Did you bring it?”
“I did, but it’s only for accidental injection into one of us. That won’t happen. It never has.”
“Do you tell the victim about the antidote?” I asked.
“Fuck yes.” He smiled. “Hope is the greatest means of torture.”
“Yeah, glad you’re on our side.”
The plane came to a stop and the stairs descended. As warm air filled the cabin, my mind was on the couple who didn’t devote their lives to helping the homeless but to selling them, who now still profited off the system by blackmailing participants.
“Ready?” Mason asked.
“Hell yes.”
Madeline
The fog I’d been living under was beginning to fade as all around me life went on.
It had now been three nights since the beginning of my meltdown. I wasn’t proud that it happened, but I was content it had run its course. I’d uncorked emotions I hadn’t realized I’d bottled. Not only acknowledging them, but expressing them with Patrick was cathartic.
In the course of three days, I wasn’t healed, and I didn’t pretend I was.
However, I felt better as if healing was now possible.
The guilt was still the hardest part.
For some reason, I could justify what had been done to me but not what I’d done to others.
“Maddie,” Patrick had said sometime during the hours and hours, “there are qualified people who can help you with this more than I am able to.”
“I’ve never talked about it, not really. I asked Andros to make it stop.” My head shook. “No, not stop. I’m sure there were still women brought to the compound. I asked him to relieve me of my role.” I looked up at Patrick. “I didn’t even advocate for them then.”
“In all honesty, do you think you could have helped them? Do you think if you’d said it was wrong that he would have stopped?”
“I think I said it was wrong the first time.”
“Did your observation change anything?” Patrick asked.
“No.”
He tugged me closer and peppered the top of my head with kisses. “No one can take away your guilt. Maddie girl, I’m here to help you live with it, to be Ruby’s mother and my wife. I’m not pushing, but maybe one day you will feel strong enough to tell others your story. Let them know this horror exists and that places like the Sparrow Institute are there to help people. It’s crazy that Araneae started the institute, and now we found each other.”
“I can hardly tell you.”
“You never have to tell another soul, or you may want to. No matter what, I’m here.”
His seeds of wisdom and advice were planted. Off and on I would think about the institute. Patrick told me that Laurel oversaw the counseling. She spent most of her time with her research, but since starting to work with Araneae, Laurel had felt a burden to help victims through more traditional measures too.
He said if I didn’t feel right talking to her, there were others qualified.
I wasn’t sure what I was comfortable doing. I knew there was a sense of security in knowing that Patrick would stay by my side to help me in whatever direction I planned to take.
Somehow in my ranting, crying, and all-out loss of control, I remembered what I’d forgotten. I’d remembered how to be me.
As Patrick had said, it wasn’t a secret formula.
It was acceptable that we’d both changed over the years.
The part about being me, the real me, with Patrick was an intangible element that I never had without him; it was the absolute freedom to be honest.
Patrick reassured me that it was acceptable to be angry, sad, happy, and relieved. I could be scared or any other emotion that came along, and he wouldn’t devalue, debase, or otherwise find it unacceptable.
I could even take four showers and a bath in a day, and all he asked was if I wanted company.
My excessive bathing was something I hid from others for years. There was no way to make them understand without telling them my story.
It was now Saturday evening, and after a soft knock, the door to our bedroom opened. “Hi,” Ruby said with a smile. “Can I come in?”
Sitting up against the headboard, I nodded and patted the bed to my side. “Hey, beautiful. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit MIA.”
As she walked toward me, I took in my daughter, from her jean leggings to her sweatshirt. “University of Michigan?” Ruby had grown up in Ann Arbor, but I’d never given the idea of a local college much thought.
“Did you know Mr. Sparrow graduated from there?”
My eyes opened wide. “I didn’t.”
Ruby looked down and tugged on the soft giant blue shirt with the large gold M. “Yeah, he graduated a year before I started Westbrook. Isn’t that wild?”
“It is,” I admitted. “We’ve all been so close and yet so far.”
“Mom,” Ruby said, her smile fading. “Are you all right?”
“I think I will be. I’m sorry. I’m not exactly sure what happened.”
Her blue eyes shone. “You had to come to terms with no longer swimming.”
“I what?”
She smiled. “Mom, Patrick’s a good man, and the others, even your brother…I’m so glad you and Patrick found one another.”
Her use of the word brother startled me. “You know…about Mr. Sparrow?”
“Aunt Araneae told me.”
“Aunt? She did? And Mr. Sparrow?”
“He’s the one who told her. I think that counts for something.”
I let out a long breath as I tilted my head back and looked up at the ceiling fan. “Maybe it does.”
Ruby reached for my hand. “Come out to the dining room for dinner.”
My gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling fan. “I don’t know.” I looked her way. “I feel like I need to keep apologizing to you.”
“For what, Mom?”
My gaze met hers. “For this, for me, for hiding away. I’m just tired.”
“Come out for dinner and tomorrow morning, go upstairs for breakfast.”
Upstairs, with Patrick’s friends, with women who offered their trust, and with men who knew my past, at least the part I’d told them in the plane.
“Mr. Sparrow,” Ruby offered, “is usually gone by breakfast. It’s just everyone else.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I have lain around long enough. And the truth is I need to face him too. I owe it to Patrick.”
“I don’t think you owe Patrick anything. He’s not like that. I think you owe yourself.”
A smile threatened my lips. “I love you, Ruby. I always have.”
“I know, Mom. I love you too. I’m just tired of coming in here to talk to you. I’m here because you told Patrick to save me. I want you to be here too.” She looked around the room. “Patrick offered to let me decorate the other bedroom the way I want. I think you should do something in here too. It’s so…bland.”
Sitting up, I looked around at the masculine colors in shades of earth tones. “I like the windows.”
“I do too,” Ruby said. “I love how high above the city we are and the lights.”
“What do you think I should do in here…if Patrick agrees?”
Ruby scoffed. “Patrick won’t tell you no about anything. I think it should be more colorful. You should see Lorna’s apartment. Oh man, the colors are crazy and it feels so alive.”
“Have you been in all the apartments?”
She nodded. “I get bored. So yeah, everyone has invited me.”
“Speaking of siblings,” I began, “did you know Mason and Lorna are brother and sister?”
“It’s kind of obvious when you’re around them. I mean they’re grown-ups and at first, Mason seems…intimidating, but then when you’re around them, you can see that the two of them razz one another all the time. It’s kind of fun.”
I sighed. That wasn’t the relationship I expected with Mr. Sparrow. First off, who calls their brother mister?
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