by Bry Ann
The sound of train whistles fill the air. Luckily, the train we need is relatively empty so we get tickets quickly. Our footsteps echo across the train station as we sprint to the gate. Lacey pulls me to the back and shuts the compartment door as soon as we enter. She makes sure it’s just the two of us. Every two seconds Lacey’s head swivels to the left to glance out the window, checking for any sign we are being followed. When she hears the unmistakable sound of our compartment door being opened she quickly turns to me and tells me to cry. I do. The woman walks in with wide eyes when she sees me sobbing. You’d never know it is fake. I'm not even sure it is.
“No one will want to sit on a train with someone crying next to them” she whispers, as she pretends to coddle me.
Sure enough, the woman mumbles a sorry and walks out, shutting the door behind her. The sound of the train taking off is probably one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard. But it does something to Lacey. She pulls away from me and tucks her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
“What now?” I ask quietly.
She shrugs. “We live. We’ll find the cabin first.”
“But then what? We can’t stay there forever. What happens after? I mean…”
“Rose,” Lacey untucks herself and leans forward to face me. The eye contact she’s giving me is intense and clearly trying to convey a message, “something I learned quickly in captivity is to take things one day at a time. One minute at a time if you have to. Things broken up into small pieces are doable, the big picture rarely is.”
I swallow and slowly nod. “Okay. We find the cabin first.”
Rose tucks herself back up. We don’t really say much to each other the rest of the way. What is there to say? I'm thinking about my dad and Sven, and God only knows what Lacey is thinking about. I can’t even begin to imagine all the things that could be troubling her.
Finally, Lacey falls asleep. Her head falls to her knees, and she drifts off just like that. All tucked up. She looks so small. So young. How could anyone ever hurt her?
I fall asleep soon after that. We are jolted awake when the sound of people filing out of the train fills the cabin. Lacey pops up first, completely on guard. She pulls her hood up and once again takes charge getting us back in a taxi. The taxi only takes us so far, per Lacey’s instructions. We hike the rest of the way. It turns out to be six or so miles. With the little food and water we’ve had it wears us out. It tires me, but it kills Lacey. I realize how just far she has to go in her physical recovery. I feel shitty for pulling her away from the medical care Sven’s boss was providing her.
“I'm coming,” Lacey calls out through strained breathing. I look back and see her on a rock. She’s holding her sides, grimacing in pain.
“Lacey should we….”
“Go to the cabin, Rose. I’ll meet you there.”
“No way! I'm not leaving you here.”
“Please… They…” she sucks in a pained breath, “they can’t find us together like this. It’d be hopeless. Please.”
“They won’t find us here. We are in the middle of nowhere. In nature Lacey.”
“Don’t underestimate them.”
She’s completely leaning over the rock now. I can barely make out what’s she’s saying. She looks up at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed and tired.
“Please go. Please. Get it set up for me.”
“I…”
“Please,” she whispers.
“Okay, Lacey. I will,” my voice is quiet and laced with guilt, “but if you’re not up there with me in a little bit I'm coming back for you.”
“No!” Lacey practically shouts. It’s the loudest I’ve ever heard her. “You don’t come back for me. You live for me. If I'm alive. I will be in that cabin. Now go.”
I take one last look at her small, pained form before running off like a coward. The cabin is small. One tiny bedroom, a bathroom and an, admittedly, comfortable living room with a cushy couch, a fireplace and lots of blankets. It’s great, but I can’t focus on anything knowing Lacey is out there. It’s getting dark. There could be animals. I have no clue what to do. She told me to get the place ready, but there really isn’t anything to do. I'm so lost without her. I find cups and selfishly chug as much water as my body will hold. I almost cry out when I look in the pantry and see loads of food. All food with expirations dates that go on to infinity. So much food. My dad was prepared. I can’t let myself think of what he was prepared for. It hurts too much and ruins the moment. I stuff food in my mouth until I feel sick, trying to drown out the worry, guilt, and emptiness plaguing me. My stomach doesn’t hold as much I’d expect. I shove the food away and pace the apartment.
It’s dark. And she’s still not here.
I grab a blanket and start to cry. Hysterically sob. I'm so lost. I'm just about to dive under the blanket when scratching at the door gets my attention. I run to the door and throw it open. Willing to risk whatever, just hoping it’s Lacey. On the floor, shaking from exhaustion, covered in dirt and dried blood, is Lacey. She’s barely conscious.
“Help.”
Her eyes shake, trying to roll back. She’s fighting it. For me. I leap into action. My energy is restored thanks to the food and water. I tuck my arm under hers and pull her inside, taking a quick look around before I do. She cries out in pain as I pull her in, but she roughly tells me to keep going. I pull her to the couch, set her down a moment to catch my breath, then lift her up onto it. I pull the blanket over her quivering form. I run to the kitchen and grab water and a tin of beans that I throw in a bowl.
Lacey’s eyes light up slightly. I help her eat and drink. She’s weak. When she gets some of the food and water in her body, her eyes start to shut with more force. She’s can’t fight it much longer.
“Rose. I… sleep. Take room. Lock… door.”
She’s fighting to stay awake so hard.
“I’ve got it. Go to sleep Lacey.”
“I'm so dirty,” she whispers before sleep takes her.
I move her ratty hair back. “You’re just fine,” I whisper.
I shut, cover and lock all the windows and doors. I find extra blankets in a cabinet and make a makeshift bed on the floor next to Lacey. No way I'm going in the room and leaving her out here alone. It’s only when I'm lying down on a makeshift bed on the floor below Lacey that I let myself think of the fact that this was my dad’s criminal hideout. It is so prepared for long-term use. That hurts. It burns. What was he planning to do with me if he ever had to use it? Then I think of Sven. How he cared in his own twisted, fucked up way. I don’t know at what point I fall asleep, but at some point I do.
Sleep is more than welcome. It’s a total blessing.
I wake up first. I rub my eyes as the sliver of sunlight creeps in. It takes me a second to remember where I am. With a surprising sinking feeling, I eventually do. I glance up to see Lacey is still on the couch sleeping. She’s tucked in a ball, head curled in, eyebrows furrowed tightly, rocking softly. My heart breaks for her.
I don’t know what to do. She needs her sleep. I don’t want to wake her, but she looks so miserable. I settle for making breakfast. I take some whole wheat crackers my dad must have vacuum packed, and top them with peanut butter. I add a side of raisins and apricots for both me and Lacey. I make an electrolyte drink for Lacey using some powders I find, and stick it in the fridge so it stays cool.
I'm teetering about when Lacey shoots up with a silent scream, breathing heavy. This is one thing I know I can help with.
“You’re safe. It’s just a dream,” I say soothingly. “Can you tell me where you are right now?”
She closes her eyes tightly, trying to fight her mind and reality at the same time. I recognize it as something my girls used to do.
“No, keep them open sweetie. Where are you right now?”
“Cabin,” she breathes, wiping a stray tear from her eye.
“Who are you with?”
“Rose…”
“Good job Lacey. Are you
with me?”
Her eyes flicker open. “Yes. Sorry. Thank you,” she says meekly.
“Of course. I made breakfast!”
I extend my arm to the kitchen. She gives me a small smile.
“You’re adorable,” she whispers, some of the darkness disappearing from her eyes. I laugh and shrug.
Lacey gets herself up and limps to the kitchen. I want to ask her what’s wrong with her, but I know it’ll only shut her down. She’s full of shame. So I let her limp and grimace and suffer until I either can’t take it any more or can think of a better way to approach the situation.
She takes the plate back to the couch and curls herself up, eating slowly. I feel like such an idiot because I want to ask her what we should do now. I can’t think of anything on my own, Geez! I'm useless. I sit across from her on the couch.
Lacey glances up at me with half a cracker still in her mouth.
“I can hear your thoughts.”
I choke. “What?”
“Let’s enjoy peace for a couple days. Then we’ll plan. Look at options. How to get more food, all that. We deserve a few days.” She looks down at herself, eyes guarded. “I need a few days Rose.”
I try and hide the pain from my face. She’s in worse shape than she’s letting on, and I'm really beginning to wonder if I fucked up by taking her out so soon.
I shake my head.
“Right. Of course. That makes sense. We need some time.”
Lacey nods. “We’ll still keep a lookout. We’re on guard. Just not actively planning.”“Got it, buddy.”
She gives me one of her little half smiles. Then she looks down and goes back to eating. Everything about her is closed in and locked down. Despite not being a prisoner anymore, she’s still is just as much of a captive. It’s like she doesn’t want anyone to see her. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t either if I’d endured all she had.
Two days pass. We don’t do much. We chat a bit about our pasts, which turns out to be rather depressing. The only highlight is when we talk about her little brother Jamie. He sounds like an absolute ray of sunshine. Other than that, honestly, there is not much to do here. I get wood from the forest. I get stronger doing that. I'm not used to doing things that involve strength, but if I don’t do it Lacey will try, and probably kill herself in the process. Her body needs to heal. She wears nothing but sweats and sweatshirts... ever. I can’t see her body so I have no idea how serious her condition is. She gets increasingly pale and tired but does everything she can to hide her pain. I curse myself to hell. I had no idea Sven’s boss was giving her so much medical care. I would have waited longer if I’d known. I was only thinking of myself.
The third day we know we need to talk and start planning, but are both terrified to do so. This place may be boring as all hell, but it’s safe. A bubble we don’t want to leave. And as brave as she is, I think Lacey is down right terrified to leave the cabin. I’ve been outside the cabin doors, gathered, hiked, explored, she hasn’t so much as left the front door.
Lacey is making lunch. Probably the same thing we’ve eaten the past few days. A super weird combo of beans, raisins and sunflower seeds. I'm finishing the last of a haircut. It’s a random talent I have. I'm good at cutting hair. I offered to cut Lacey’s, but she panicked and quietly declined. The reality is she didn’t want me coming near her with scissors. Even trusting me, she knew her PTSD couldn’t handle it. I cut my bangs a little fuller and my hair slightly layered and shoulder length. I'm just about done when…
Knock. Knock. Knock. THUD.
Thump. Thump. Thump. CRASH.
I can practically feel our panic seize the room. Lacey drops the bowls, sending them crashing to the ground with a bang.
Knock. Knock.
Chapter 3:
Lacey:
“Alright. This is fucked. I know you two are in there. Let me in.”
I was almost ready to collapse to the floor before the person on the other side of the wood spoke. That’s not Sven or Adam. It could be one of their men, but no, Sven would come up for Rose himself. I'm sure of that.
Rose is shaking so hard. I have to handle this.
“What do we do?” she squeaks out.
“Answer it.”
“WHAT?” she gasps.
I numbly walk through the glass barefoot do the door. I turn to her, my foot giving me a much welcome distraction from the mind-numbing panic.
“There’s no back door. They know we are here. We just…” my voice shakes.
“Open the fucking door! Come on,” the voice yells, clearly annoyed. His tone intrigues me. He doesn’t sound out to get us. Plus, he hasn’t kicked in the very flimsy wood door. With a frown and a shiver I throw the door open.
The air’s knocked out of me when I see the man at the door. He’s tall. Really, really tall. I have to look up to see him. He’s got one earring in his ear. He’s got hardened muscle. Not the kind from the same repetitive movements at the gym. No, the kind earned from life. From fighting. He’s probably in his really late twenties. He has an aura of cockiness and self-assuredness about him. That’s not what stuns me though. No. It’s that he looks so much like Rose. He’s got light eyes, so pale blue like hers. He’s also got the light hair as well, except his has bits of brown running through it. He’s good looking and tough. He cocks an eyebrow at me.
“I can send someone down. Someone who will help you.”
That’s what her dad said. Is this him? Are they related somehow? I glance at Rose to see if she knows him, but she’s still cowering so I guess not.
“Who are you?”
He rolls his eyes and pushes past me. I stand in the doorway still. Frozen. I'm shaking a bit. He simply moves me and shuts and locks the door. Like he belongs here or something. I frown. Rose whimpers and backs herself into a corner, looking at me apologetically. She feels guilty. I wish she didn’t. I'm glad she feels entitled to fear. It means she hasn’t been fully damaged yet. I’ll gladly take that burden. When you are truly damaged you know fear is not an emotion you are always allowed.
“Who are you?” I ask again.
I notice the man’s eyes on Rose. His brows are pinched together. He looks almost vulnerable for a moment, before shaking his head and turning back to me. Cocky again.
“Nixon. You can call me Nix.”
“What are you doing here?”
His lips draw together tight. “Weren’t you told I was coming? I wasn’t trying to scare the living shit out of you two.”
“My dad sent you,” Rose says, as she comes out of the corner to stand slightly behind me.
“Okay. So he did fucking warn you. Thank God.”
He casually strolls over to the pantry.
“I'm fucking starving.”
He reaches for the pantry. I instantly tense. We need that food. I practically leap over there, ignoring the pain in my feet. I slam the pantry door shut and stand in front of it.
“No. That food is ours,” my voice is barely above a whisper, “We don’t even know you. We need that!”
He smirks and looks me up and down. “I suspect you are Lacey. He warned me about you.”
This confuses me. This serial killer really things I'm dangerous.
“We just really need this food. And we don’t know you.”
He raises his hands and spins around. He winks at Rose. Winks. Rose looks just as confused by this guy as I am.
“Huhhhh!” Rose gasps. Both eyes turn to me. I look over at them confused. Rose puts her face in her hands.
“Oh Lacey,” she mumbles with a quiver in her voice.
“Rose?”
It’s Nix who springs into action. He walks around the kitchen opposite the pantry where we both are. He lifts a piece of glass off the floor. My eyes go wide. That’s from the bowls I broke. The ones I walked through to get to the front door and quell my panic. I glance at my feet. Sure enough, I'm bleeding. I immediately shut down, starting with my toes all the way up to my swirling mind. I'm so humiliated I can’
t think straight.
“Come on sweetie.”
Rose comes over, sniffling, and wraps an arm around me. She brings me to the couch. I immediately tuck my feet in. No one can see. No one!
“Can I see?” Rose asks gently.
I shake my head. “I'm fine. Really.”
“Lacey, what if…” She bites her bottom lip, “What if its infected or something?”
“Are two fucking kidding me with this?”
Nix stomps over, boots and all. He moves Rose to the side, grabs one of my legs out from under me and pulls it into his lap. I desperately try and pull away but his grip tightens.
“There’s fucking glass in your foot kid. I have to get it out.”
Rose is looking at him with uncertainty in her eyes.
“Please,” I beg, desperately trying to jerk away while simultaneously keeping my other foot safe. “Please don’t. Please. Please.”
I close my eyes and start to shake. A plethora of hands-on me flash through my mind, including Adam’s. I start to shake rapidly.
“Let me go! Let me go. Let me go.”
I say it like a prayer. I'm choking. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
“Hey. Hey, it’s alright.”
I hear voices bickering. Then a soft washcloth lands on my head. I touch it tentatively. It’s like a sedative to my system. No one is touching me anymore. I slowly open my eyes, wishing I could disappear. I duck my head, letting my hair hide my face. I glance around from there. Rose is staring me, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. She takes a break from that every few seconds to glare at Nix. Nix is standing, arms crossed, thick bracelets lacing them, frowning at no one in particular.
“No one’s touching you,” Rose says softly. “It’s alright Lacey.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, tucking myself in even further.
Nix walks off. Rose rolls her eyes and sits beside me. She doesn’t touch me, but she’s there.
“Sorry,” I whisper to her.
“Don’t be. Honestly Lacey.”
Why does it feel like Nix is running things here? He just got here. Who is this guy?
