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Chapter Sixteen
AMETHYST IS THE BIRTHSTONE OF AQUARIUS
Pasha
The rope around my wrists is so tight I can’t entertain the idea of wriggling free. The throb that’s going to come if they ever take it off is playing on my mind. Oh, Gods. Don’t let me die. I’ve been travelling most of the day, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve got very far. The men that took me have had me under a microscope and taken samples of my blood. Now I’m back in the boot of a car—as one of the guys called it—with a bag over my head. The road starts to get rocky and my body bounces around like a ragdoll. The car jolts to a stop, and I go flying to the back of the boot. It’s no longer just my wrists that hurt.
The doors to the vehicle open and shut. There are male voices all around the car, and my heart starts to beat faster. The truck opens, and my flight response kicks in. I lash out in all directions, trying to get away. They pull me out of the car, and I fall with a thud to the floor. It’s no use. I can’t get away. Someone holds me down while another person pulls the bag off my head. The light from the sun is so bright my vision is temporarily lost.
“Pasha,” a guy says.
“Let me go!” I shout.
“Calm down.”
“I’ll calm down when you let me go.” I try to struggle again.
“Guys, give her some space.”
The other men move back and I sit up. “Someone untie me,” I say, holding my wrists out. I have no idea if they will, but I need these damn ropes off. The oldest of the men gestures for someone to do it, and I rub my arms as I’m finally free. Well, not free, but not restrained anymore. They’re all staring at me like I have something on my face. “How did you know my name?” I ask.
“That’s not important right now. We need to clean you up. Those men should’ve looked after you better. Come. We’ll go inside.” He starts to walk and the others follow. I look at the massive white house in front of me, then back at the driveway.
Would they stop me from leaving?
They don’t look back as they walk away. I doubt I can outrun them all, and it’s probably a false delusion I can get away. This might be stupid, but I follow them inside. The walls are full of pictures of marine life, and there are fish tanks everywhere.
“Come,” a woman says. She doesn’t look like a prisoner, and I start to relax a bit.
“I’m Pasha,” I say, hoping she can ease my mind.
“I know who you are,” she says, giving nothing away. She leads me to a bedroom with a view of the sea and leaves me. I look out the window, missing my home. There’s a bathroom attached to the room, and I use it to freshen up. When I come out, there are clothes laid out on the bed. I’m hesitant to change, but everything I have on doesn’t belong to me, and these clothes are much softer. Once dressed in the white top and grey bottoms, I sit on the bed, wondering if anyone will come to collect me. Sitting turns to lying, and I’m so tired I drift off to sleep.
* * *
Aknock at the door awakens me. I wipe my face and rush to get up. The bed’s so comfy I almost forgot where I was.
“Pasha,” the woman from before says, letting herself into the room. “Dinner’s ready. Are you coming down to join us, or do you want me to bring something up?”
My stomach growls, and I’m grateful I’m going to be fed. I’m curious what these people want with me. “I’ll come down,” I say.
She nods and I follow her. “Find a spare seat and someone will bring you a plate,” she says.
I take the seat closest to the door. The dining hall is full of people of all ages, who are talking and eating. This doesn’t have a prison feel at all. I help myself to a bread roll and keep my head down until the older guy from before enters the room. Heads turn to look at him, including mine.
“Evening all,” he says. “Pasha,” he adds as he catches my eye. He takes his seat at the head of the table and the food is served.
I eat until I feel like I’m going to burst. The food is so rich and tasty. My name keeps being whispered around the table, but I try to ignore it.
After a while, people start to leave until only the older guy and I are left. “How was the food?” he asks.
“Nice, thank you,” I say.
“Good. I’m glad. Shall we take a walk?”
“Are you going to kill me?” Surely it’s better to know what he wants than to wonder how much trouble I’m in.
He laughs, but it’s strangled. “No. I love you.”
