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I’m shaking my head at my own answer when his rough palm finds my chin again. I go to move my head to the side for him so he can get to my wound when he halts my movement, turning my face back to meet his. This time, his face is so close to mine I can see the intricate array of green flecks that light up his grey eyes. They’re fascinating and I find my head tilting to the side in amazement before I realize what I’m doing. His thumb is resting on the rim of my bottom lip casually. Sliding my tongue across my lip, his eyes narrow in on my movement.
He takes the needle and the thread out of the first aid kit. “You need stitches.”
“How many?” I ask faintly.
He looks back up at me, his hands pausing on his task. “About four or five.”
I exhale, my shoulders slacking. “Okay.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” I scoff under my breath.
“Get up.” Tripp grips under my arms and pulls me to my feet. “Hachiro will want you in one pretty little piece when he takes ownership.”
I follow him towards the wooden door that opens out to the long corridor we came down. My skin tightens around the wound on my head and I bring my hand up to touch the tiny scar that now runs down my temple towards my eye. Scarred. Tripp walks out the door and my hand flies out to his bulging arms, his muscles twitching under my palm. “Tripp?”
He stops, turning his head over his shoulder slightly. “What?”
“When my sister comes for you—because she will come for you—tell her I love her before she puts a bullet between your eyes.”
“Noted.” He yanks me forward, shutting the door behind our departure. For once in however long I’ve now been here for, I’m not afraid.
MILLIE
The mid-afternoon sun shimmies over my skin as soon as my feet land on the loose gravel road. Tripp’s grip tightens around my arm at the display of the four dark SUVs that are parked in a line. The sight would usually cause an unwelcome stir inside of me but it doesn’t. I follow Tripp’s lead until the door we exited from shuts behind us and we both turn to see the priest and Kurr walking out in hushed tones. Some sick part of me is relieved that I’m not with the priest. At least there is some part of me that is still alive, even if all that’s left is the sick part.
The passenger door swings open from one of the dark SUVs and I pause. Tripp’s hand falls off my arm slowly and when a Japanese man, who I’m guessing is one of Hachiro’s, steps towards me, my hand finds Tripp’s like a magnet. He doesn’t pull back, which is surprising. The electrical current that surges through his fingertips and into mine is once again very much alive.
Once the Japanese man gets to me and Tripp, his hand grips around my arm and pulls me towards him, yanking me out of Tripp’s hands. “Millie.”
I look over my shoulder to see four other men dressed in clean suits with dark glasses shading their eyes, all standing against the SUVs on guard. I could have sworn Tripp’s grip tightened for a second while I was being yanked away from him, but I’ll put it down to my now jumbled brain playing tricks on me. What’s real? What isn’t? Is this real or did I die on Hella’s driveway all those days ago? How long have I really been here for? There were times when I felt as though I slept for days.
The tugging on my arm brings me back to the now and I swing my head over my shoulder just before I’m getting shoved into the back seat of the dark SUV. Tripp is standing stoic, his fists balled to the side of him. When the door closes and I know he can’t see through the dark tint, I run my eyes over him again, wishing I knew what he looked like. Now I guess I’ll never know.
The men speaking in Japanese die out into the distance as I watch Tripp walk towards the door we exited from, pushing past Kurr and the priest dramatically, and slamming his fist into the wall before walking through the doors. Kurr and David watch the slamming doors from Tripp’s departure and chuckle to themselves.
I drop my forehead to the cold window while the man seated beside me yanks my hands towards him and locks cuffs around each wrist. I sink into my seat, trying to search for my inner fight, the fight I know Melissa would have if she was in my position. She was always the stronger sister, the one who always had it together. I was weak. Not anymore though, not anymore. I can’t say that I’m going to change because that would be too unnatural. The motions my mind wades through are too natural to label it as being “changed”.
My hair trails over my shoulders, hiding my face from anyone around me as the SUV jumps over the grainy gravel road. The gates that held me captive are disappearing into the distance, and although I am free from The Army, I now have to endure whatever else is waiting for me on the other side of this messed up thing called life.
The trip felt long and the dark of the night has already replaced the bright sun we left behind. I don’t know where The Army was. I don’t even know where I am right now, but I’m guessing my ass is about to be shipped to Japan.
I open my eyes just as the SUV comes to a halt. Wiping the sleep away, I inch up off the window and look around the place. The men in the front continue to speak in Japanese, which I find comforting. I’m not sure I’d want to know what they’re talking about. My door opens and a hand grips around my arm, pulling me out into the warm night. Warm? It’s warm wherever we are.
“Come,” the man who was sitting in the passenger seat says as he tugs me toward the house in front of me. I’m not sure it can be classed as a house. It’s more like a mansion. It’s structured with old brick and built with the Victorian-styled window frames which are placed skillfully everywhere. The driveway we came down is a long asphalt road that leads to a large round garden and fountain placed in the front of the wide, stony steps which then lead you to the front door of the house.
The twin wooden doors open just as a man, who had to be around his mid-to-late twenties, walks out. He’s wearing a tidy dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and tattoos running all over his arms, neck, and jaw. His dark hair is hanging casually around his collar and his face is clean shaven. His head cocks while his green eyes linger on me. “Inside, boys,” he says, grinning at me slyly before waving us through the door.
Weird.
I watch the tattooed man closely as I pass him on our way inside the house, noting that his cocky grin doesn’t falter. There’s a psychotic glint in his eye that ticks from beneath that smooth exterior. It throws me back a little.
The Japanese suited man tugs at my cuffs again because I had stopped, and I continue to follow him through the dimly lit hallway. To the right there are spiral stairs that lead to the second level and to the left there’s a modernized kitchen. He continues to pull me forward until I’m walking into a large living room where a gas fire flickers against the wall, lighting up the dim atmosphere.
The Japanese man pulls out the keys and unlocks my cuffs, breaking my wrists free. “Walk.” He pushes me forward towards the fireplace.
I follow his order, knowing good and well that the grip the Japanese man had on me is now gone. I stop in the middle of the sitting room directly in front of the fire place, closing my eyes and soaking up the heat which licks over my arms.
