Sempre (Sempre 1)

Haven took a small bite as Dominic cleaned up, the entire exchange surreal. She couldn’t believe he’d served her, the servant.

3

Haven sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded in her lap and her gaze trained on the floor. She could see Dr. DeMarco’s shoes from the corner of her eye, a small trail of dirt on the carpet behind them that he’d dragged in. The impulsive urge to clean it hit her, but she remained still, not wanting to offend him.

It was a few minutes past six in the evening. She’d slipped up to her room after eating her sandwich earlier in the day, feeling out of place downstairs.

“You cleaned.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But I told you to relax.”

She tensed. Was that disrespectful? “I was awake and didn’t know what else to do.”

“I appreciate the effort,” he said. “In all honesty, I can’t recall the windows ever being free of grime. You did clean them, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you used the correct cleaner?”

“I think so,” she said. “The clear bottle from the closet.”

He took a step toward her. She flinched when his hand shot out, but her reaction didn’t stop him. Grasping her chin, he forced her to look at him. “I don’t expect perfection, child. Make sure the house is decent, the beds are made, and the laundry is done, and we shouldn’t have any problems. Dinner is to be on the table at seven every night, unless I tell you otherwise. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. DeMarco let go of her, and she looked away, eye contact uncomfortable. He turned to walk out of the room but stopped in the library when he realized she was right on his heels. “Is there something you need?”

“It’s already after six, so I thought I should start dinner.”

He sighed. “Tomorrow. Take the night off.”

She stood there as he walked away, leaving her alone in front of the stairs. Take the night off. The words ran through her mind but refused to sink in, as foreign to her as another language.

Who are these people?

* * *

1:47 A.M.

The glowing red numbers on the alarm clock taunted Haven. It was too quiet, the silence deafening. She’d never been on her own for so long before. Even at night in the stables the animals had kept her company while she slept. She usually had her mama, and she realized, as she lay in the dark room, that she’d taken her for granted. She had no one now. She was alone.

2:12 A.M.

She thought about her mama, wondering what she was doing and if she was okay. Did she know what happened, or was she imagining her out there somewhere, getting help? Haven pictured her standing on the front porch of the ranch, gazing out at the desert and waiting for a sign. Waiting for rescue. Waiting for her.

3:28 A.M.

Haven wondered what would’ve happened had she found someone to save them. Would they be somewhere together? She imagined them having their own house, with a backyard and a fluffy white kitten to keep them company. They’d name her Snowball and she’d climb their tree at Christmas, tearing down the lights and scattering pine needles. They’d have presents and hot chocolate, and there would be snow outside. Haven had only ever seen snow in pictures, but her mama talked about it sometimes. She told her how beautiful it was when it blanketed the ground, how the cold flakes tasted when they landed on your tongue. Haven asked how she knew, since she’d never had a life other than the one they had. “I dream about it,” she’d said. “When you dream, you can go anywhere. I always go to the snow.”

4:18 A.M.

Haven pictured her mama, skin flushed from the cold. Flakes stuck to her hair, and she glowed, smiling as she twirled in the snow. She was happier than Haven had ever seen her before, living a normal life . . . the kind of life she always should have had.

5:03 A.M.

Her cheeks were stained from tears and her eyes burned like grains of sand were caught in them. She felt like she was running again, the air suffocating as she struggled to breathe, but no matter how hard she fought, she’d get nowhere.