He wasn’t big, but moved with strength belying his scrawny frame.

Whoever had sewn the injury did a hash job, and skin puckered in such a way I would’ve pitied him, if not for the fact he was in cahoots with my kidnappers. Our food was delivered by the same young man with the scar running from eyebrow to jaw. Never again would I hide my true feelings, or fail to chase what I truly desired. I conjured anger like magic, nursing it deep within, building on it like an impenetrable cape. I put away my fear of being reprimanded, and embraced ferocity. That all changed in the two days I sat in contemplation. Even with Brax, I never had the strength to speak the truth. My freedom had been taken, but I would take it back.Īll my life I’d been meek and a doormat.

The remaining hours were spent staring into nothingness, or staring at each other.Ī few women chatted in hushed whispers, but I didn’t. Fear of what would happen siphoned away with every tick of the clock, leaving me devoid, empty. Taking a mouthful of gruel, I hiccupped and steeled myself.įor two days, the little room was my world.įood came twice a day, giving us something to break up the monotonous waiting. Tears were not useful, and I refused to buckle. Swallowing hard, I forced the tears away. I belonged to a bleak, unknown, and terror-filled future. My happy, happy world dissolved and left me in hell. They threatened to drown me if I let them loose.īrax. When I delivered the last bowl and took my own, I had to swallow my tears. They gave a timid smile, a glassy look, a flush of tears. My body creaked and protested, but I stood and collected a bowl at a time, handing it with a piece of flat bread to each girl. I wouldn’t sit waiting-who knew when they would come for us. The scent of dinner overwhelmed, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I waited to see if there was a hierarchy. No one moved, but we all stared longingly at the food once the door locked again. I forced myself to stop thinking about him. It seemed so long ago, sharing our first night in Cancun, enjoying our connection. My stomach growled I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The stagnant air of our prison filled with scents of food-something stir-fried with a platter of warm bread to scoop it up with. Some time, hours later, the door opened and a younger man with wonky teeth and a jagged facial scar appeared, depositing a tray of eight bowls in the centre of the room.

Tears of Tess by Pepper Winters