Her Final Word

by Willow Rose

  The woman looked up at me, then shook her head.

  "But your name is also Rojas, and you look so much alike it's uncanny. Could you be a cousin maybe?"

  The woman shook her head again.

  "But certainly, you two must be related somehow," I said. "We’ve come here to find Emily's family, and we think you might be it."

  Sofia answered with a shrug. I looked at the guard behind me, then back at her.

  "Don't you understand English?"

  Sofia nodded. I looked at the guard again, my eyes pleading for his help. But he remained cold faced. I returned to Sofia.

  "We thought that maybe you could help us find more of Emily's family?" I asked. "Please? Do you have any family here? A mother and a father? Children maybe?"

  Sofia turned her head away and stared emptily at the wall next to her while shaking her head.

  "You shouldn't have come," she said with a sniffle. I could tell her swollen lip hurt when she spoke. "Go back to where you came from."

  Sofia rose to her feet and turned to address the guard. "I'd like to go now."

  "But…but we…"

  I protested, but it didn't matter. The guard knocked on the door, and it was opened from the outside. I always hated the feeling of being at someone else's mercy this way, and them deciding when I left and whether I did. I had a slightly claustrophobic feeling growing inside of me until the door opened and the other guard came inside.

  They grabbed Sofia by the shoulders and escorted her out. I sighed and looked at Emily with a shrug.

  "I'm sorry, sweetie."

  We were escorted out through the hallways, and Emily held her nose as we walked by one-man-cells with at least three or more prisoners in each of them. Some were sleeping on cardboard boxes, others eating while their cellmate relieved himself in what looked like a bucket in the corner. A rat greeted us as we turned a corner and Emily shrieked. I grabbed her hand in mine and kept it there till we reached the exit. I don't think I ever felt more relieved than when the gates were opened, and I once again smelled the fresh air.

  "Remind me never to commit a crime while we're in the Bahamas," Emily said as we walked to our car.

  "I am sorry, though," I said when we got inside. "I really thought she would talk to us."

  "Maybe she didn't dare to?" Emily asked. "She looked scared."

  I started the car. "I had really hoped we could get her to talk," I repeated and drove onto the road.

  Driving in the Bahamas was somewhat of an accomplishment since the Bahamians drove crazily like their lives depended on them reaching their destination on time. It didn't fit very well with their laid-back attitude toward everything else, but you had to really keep an eye on each and every car in the street and be ready to blow the horn at any given moment. Sometimes, they simply honked because they saw someone they knew; sometimes, it was because they were happy, and other times, it was just to let you know they were coming around a corner. On top of it all, they drove on the left side of the road, which I was getting quite good at after a few days on the roads here. At least I thought so myself. I’m not so sure Emily shared that opinion as she would often shriek or scream while riding with me.

  "It's okay, Jack," she said. "At least we found her. We actually found someone I was related to."

  "I just wish we didn't have to find her in that awful place," I said.

  Emily stared at the picture of her mother in her hand and then put it back in her pocket with a deep sigh.

  "Let's go grab some ice cream," I said. "Like we used to when you were younger. Do you remember that?"

  Emily gave me a look. I saw something in her eyes that I didn't know how to interpret. There was a fight going on inside of her. It was like the child in her wanted to eat that ice cream with me, really wanted to enjoy it, but the other part, the anorexic part told her she couldn't do it.

  "Come on," I said. "One little ice cream won't hurt you."

  I knew I was treading on dangerous water here since, so far, I had only been able to get her to eat salad and fruit for breakfast. This would be a big step for her, one I wasn't sure she was ready to take yet. I was scared to be pushing her too much, but at the same time, I had to try. If I didn't ask, I would never get an answer, right? What if she said yes?

  "I…I don't know Jack," she said and turned to look out the window.

  I exhaled, a little disappointed. I put my hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Emily. Maybe later, okay?"

  She nodded but didn't look at me. I heard a light sniffle and wondered if she was crying.

  6

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  It was happening again. The itch was back. The figure sitting in the car with the motor still running felt it while watching a group of locally well-known hookers standing outside the casino sharing a cigarette. The figure liked to watch the hookers, to see them waddle around in their misery.

  But this individual wasn't there for the hookers. They weren't this person's targets. This person needed something else, something more shocking, more dangerous to satisfy the urgent demand that was growing inside.

  The figure in the car pressed the accelerator down and soared past the girls into the night, whispering that they could count themselves lucky that they weren't the right type.

  The car then drove through Nassau, slowly cruising past all the tourists by the cruise ships with the window open. The person was smiling at the sweet young girls in their summer dresses.

  And that was when she showed up.

  She was blonde and petite, and in good shape, not more than sixteen would be a good guess. Just got off the ship, walking with two of her friends toward town. They stopped for a few seconds and looked at all the tourist crap people were trying to sell them, but didn’t buy any of it.

  The car kept a distance but still close enough to watch their every move as they entered the Hard Rock Café. The person then parked the car and waited.

  7

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  Nancy Elkington laughed lightly at her friend's joke. She was looking forward to getting back on dry land after many hours on the cruise ship. She was getting sick of people and eat till you drop buffets, not to mention overcrowded swimming pools. She was ready to get back on land and go shopping.

  Nancy was so grateful that her parents had decided to let her take her two best friends with her on this trip since it would only have ended in total boredom without Melinda and Maria. At sixteen, the last thing you wanted to do was to hang out all day and night with your boring parents. And this afternoon, as the cruise ship docked in Nassau, her parents had told them they could go out and shop on their own, just the three girls. But they had to promise to stick together all the time.

  "Where do you want to go first?" Melinda asked and looked at the map that the cruise ship had provided for them.

  Men were yelling at them, asking if they wanted a taxi or a rickshaw to help them get across town, but the girls just waved at them dismissively and continued on foot.

  "How stupid do they think we are?" Maria said.

  "I know, right?" Melinda agreed. "Getting in a car with one of them just screams, rape me."

  They passed a bunch of souvenir stands and stopped to look at some wooden sculptures, but then regretted it because the lady selling them wouldn't leave them alone and kept slinging prices at them.

  "I’m hungry. There’s a Hard Rock," Nancy said, spotting the sign in the distance. "Let's go eat there."

  They all agreed and rushed on, leaving the woman in the stand disappointed. The girls laughed and swirled in their light summer dresses, enjoying the fact that they were able to wear them in October. Nancy hoped to get a good tan before the trip was over. Just enough to make them jealous back home.

  As they spotted the café and started to cross the street, Nancy got the feeling that someone was watching her and turned to look. There was a group of people coming up behind her. They were obviously Americans, she could hear, and she breathed, rel
ieved.

  "Come on, Nance," Melinda yelled and grabbed her hand. The three of them hurried inside the café and ordered burgers while looking at the exhibit of famous artists’ jackets and guitars and stuff like that. Nancy thought it was cool and took pictures of a pink cowboy hat that the sign said Madonna had worn while shooting a music video. Once the burgers were devoured, the girls decided it was time to go sightseeing, and they walked outside and into the street. As Nancy was about to cross it, she felt like she was being watched once again and paused. She looked up a small quaint street behind them. There were flags hanging from the windows in all colors.

  "What's wrong?" Melinda said.

  Nancy looked around her. There were lots of people in the streets, tourists mostly, and cars driving by, some playing loud music from open windows. In the background towered the big cruise ships like mountains.

  "I don't know. I just keep having this feeling…"

  "Well, stop it," Maria said and pulled her arm. "We're on vacation. We're supposed to have fun, remember?"

  8

  Bahamas, July 1982

  "Could you give me the dress over there?"

  The girl looked at the woman standing in front of her, then brought her the white dress on the hanger. The woman smiled and tousled her hair.

  "Thank you."

  The girl watched in awe while the woman put on the dress. She still believed she looked like an angel, even though the girl's cheek was sore from this morning's punches when she burned her toast; the girl couldn't help admiring her. She liked making the woman happy. If she did, the woman would smile and sometimes even sing. And then she wouldn't yell or even hit like she did when she was angry.

  The girl had been at the house for five years now, and it didn't take her long to find out that The White Lady made the rules. Her husband traveled a lot—often to other houses they owned, the girl had been told—and never really cared much about what happened back at the house in the Bahamas. Meanwhile, The White Lady had taught the girl to understand English and trained her to cook and clean for her and help her out wherever it was needed. And ever since baby Dylan came too, shortly after the girl did, there had been a lot to do. The girl wasn't the only helper around the house, and she had learned that several of the women took care of the baby since The White Lady was way too busy to do it herself.

  The girl's job was mostly to help out where she could, especially help Carla in the kitchen, and then play with the boy. Since The White Lady didn't care for him playing with other children, she often had the girl entertain him. When it was time for him to start school, The White Lady said she didn't want him to go to a real school and be with other children. She was afraid of the diseases he would meet, of the children and teachers and of how inferior the schools were. The girl overheard her tell the husband those things—one day when he was actually there—and since he didn't mind much what happened anyway, baby Dylan—who was no longer a baby, but an annoying five-year-old—began his homeschooling. Often, the girl would sit in the corner and listen in as his private teacher spoke, and that was how she learned how to read and write, which was more than you could say about Dylan, who never really listened much and would rather play with his trucks or go in the pool.

  The girl thought he was being stupid, but that was just one of the emotions she felt when looking at him.

  Since his mother was keeping the boy from socializing with other children, it soon made him timid, eccentric, and a little strange. Often, the girl would go with the nannies to the park close to the house and the nannies would pull him away when other children came to play with him, on The White Lady's orders. Once, the girl overheard The White Lady tell another mother that her child had tested in the genius range and that was why she didn't want him mingling with other children. That had made the girl laugh to herself. Dylan was many things, but he certainly was no genius.

  A year later, The White Lady caught him peeking at the nannies when they were dressing. She then realized it might be time for him to hang out with other children and she selected a few that she believed it would be okay for him to be with. She paid their parents for the children to play with him and picked them up in the family's limousine. The first boy, Troy, who came to play walked down the hallway of the back-house, took one look at the doors, then pointed and said:

  "How come all the doors have deadbolts on them—on the outside?"

  After that, Troy was never invited to play with Dylan again.

  9

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  Nancy felt sick to her stomach. They were walking in an indoor market between stands that sold souvenirs and clothing. The noise in there was unbearable. People were yelling at her from all sides, telling her to come to their shop and buy their hats or dresses or small wooden hand-carved turtles.

  The other girls were walking ahead of her, while Nancy fought to keep up. She felt dizzy, and her stomach was cramping.

  Maria stopped and looked back at her. "Are you okay, Nance? You look awful."

  "Well, thank you very much," she said, moaning as she felt another pinch in her stomach.

  "Do you think it might have been the food?" Maria asked while Nancy leaned against a stand with tie-dyed T-shirts.

  "You want T-shirt, huh?" the lady standing next to it asked. "Very cheap. Very cheap."

  Nancy looked at the pattern and felt even worse. Then she shook her head and staggered onward.

  "It was probably that burger," she said, addressed to Maria. It was the only thing she had eaten since she landed on the island. That and the soda she bought from that guy selling them outside the old church, but that was in a can.

  "We also had those conch fritters, remember?" Maria added. "Down at the port. They did taste a little suspicious."

  Nancy nodded. She didn't really care what it was, only how to get relief.

  "I…I think I need to find a bathroom, fast," she said.

  "I saw a sign over there for restrooms," Maria said and pointed. "I'll walk with you."

  "No. It's okay," Nancy said. "You just go ahead. I'll catch up afterward. Just don't go too far, okay?"

  Maria gave her a look.

  "Are you sure? We'll just walk to the end of the market up there and then wait for you, okay?"

  "That sounds fine," Nancy said absentmindedly. She had spotted the sign to the restroom and was staggering toward it, bending forward, holding a hand to her cramping stomach.

  "Text me if you need anything," Maria yelled after her, concerned.

  Nancy waved at her, not hearing—or caring—what she said, her eyes only focused on getting to the bathroom, fast. She pushed the door open and hurried inside a stall, then bent over and threw up into the toilet bowl, not even noticing the awful stench or closing the stall door.

  Nancy threw up the burger, the conch fries, and the soda. Once her stomach was finally empty, she slid to the floor, drool running down her chin, panting for breath. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this awful. The nausea subsided for just a moment, and that made her relax as she leaned her head back against the stall wall, closed her eyes, and breathed in.

  She almost didn't hear the door to the restroom as it squeaked open.

  10

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  Emily ate a small piece of chicken and even had a bite of one of my conch fries that I convinced her to taste, telling her that she simply couldn't have been in the Bahamas and not eaten conch fries.

  Pleased with my accomplishments, I leaned back in my chair after dinner, drinking my beer and watching the next singer as she grabbed the microphone. It was karaoke night at the hotel and, much to my surprise, none of the singers who took the mike could carry a tune. Most of them were locals who came to hang out and sing, but it sounded so terrible that I considered taking my beer up to the room instead. Yet we stayed and made fun of them. It turned out to be something we could both laugh at.

  "I am so sorry," I said after the third singer had left and we had sto
pped laughing.

  "Why?" she asked. "You're not the one singing."

  I chuckled. "That's not what I meant."

  "What did you mean?" she asked. "What can you, the amazing Jack Ryder, everyone's savior, what can you possibly be sorry for?"

  I exhaled. "For everything. For neglecting you. For not being able to save you."

  She gave me a look, and I thought I saw the old Emily in there somewhere. Just for a brief second, then she was gone.

  "I told you. I’m not yours to save. I’m happy, Jack."

  I scoffed. I couldn't help myself. "Happy, huh?"

  She nodded. "Yes, happy. I told you; being skinny makes me happy."

  I could hardly breathe. Hearing her say stuff like that made me want just to grab her and shake some sense into her.

  "Well, then, I’m sorry I couldn't find more relatives for you," I said, trying to take the conversation elsewhere.

  She gave me a look, then leaned over as the next singer approached the mike on stage, and the DJ yelled something so loudly into his mike that it was impossible to understand.

  "I read the article again," Emily said. "In the car and I thought about something."

  "Yes?"

  "Sofia worked for a family as a maid," she said.

  I nodded. "The family whose daughter she killed."

  Emily shook her head. "Maybe it’s just a stupid idea."

  "No, go ahead. It's better than no idea."

  "I just thought that maybe if we went to them and talked to them, then maybe they could tell us something about her? Maybe they have some of her stuff? It said in the article that she lived with them. Maybe they have some pictures or anything that can tell me who she was or whether she has any relatives? Maybe they’ll know where to search for her family?"