I glance up at her. “Sure. Anything.”
“My dad told me not to bring it up…but I’m just really curious about what happened there. With you and the man that had you.”
My eyes are wider, my pulse skittering now.
“I heard you making noises while you slept last night. I’m kind of a night owl—always sneaking down at like two in the morning to get a snack or watch Netflix on Dad’s big screen in his man cave.” She laughs a little, but then her face is serious again. “But when I walked by, I heard…whimpering. Like you were crying, maybe?” She whispers the last part. I swallow hard, my eyes darting away from hers.
“I remember a lot of things,” I murmur. “Things that were . . . terrifying. I have nightmares about it sometimes. I don’t think they’ll ever go away.”
“What things? If you don’t mind me asking?”
No, I don’t mind her asking. I’m stronger than what happened. I’m better than it. It will not rule me.
I twist to face her, grabbing her hand. She looks down at it and then back up at me, her eyes cloudy with concern now.
“If I tell you, Jen, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Aunt Minnie. And definitely not Uncle Jack.”
She bobs her head. “I swear I won’t. I’m good at keeping secrets, I promise.”
I mash my lips together, releasing her hand to turn and place my water down on the coffee table.
“I was there for about two months. It got better after a while, but when I first arrived, I was treated like shit.”
She blinks, but says nothing. Her eyes are begging for more though.
“I was locked in a cell—it felt kind of like a dungeon. It was dark, damp, and it smelled awful. They didn’t even let me use the bathroom. I was tied up with these thick, hard ropes—” I hold up one arm and pull the sleeve of my sweater up, showing her the scars. “That’s where these marks came from. I was trying so hard to get out of them, but it was impossible.” I wipe the sweat off my forehead. “There were these guards there—his men. They would watch me, either in person or on cameras. They would switch out every few hours. Two of them were bad. Really bad. They always threatened to…do things to me, but the guy that was in charge of them didn’t know about it.”
“The Jefe,” she says, loud and clear.
And I hold her gaze, nodding. “You know about him?”
“I know a lot of things about him. I hear Dad and Clark talking about him a lot. He’s a big deal. Everyone’s afraid of him. That’s why we didn’t think we’d ever see you again.”
I sigh. “He can be cruel and controlling. He also likes to punish…but I got to know him, and he got to know me, and eventually things changed.”
She gives a sincere nod.
“Anyway, I’ve been told I make noise in my sleep. He told me, actually. I don’t even think I can help it. I get images of what they did to me—I won’t go into detail, but picture the worst things that could ever happen to a woman, happening to me. There was no mercy for me there. No one gave a damn about me when I first arrived. I…wanted to die, that’s how bad it was. But when I realized that he knew exactly who I was, I knew I had to do something about it. I had to get The Jefe to trust me.”
“Well, he must have trusted you a lot. Look at you. You’re here now. Free from him.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Trust me, he is not a good man. He’s vicious, Jen. He’s cold and deadly, and right now he’s hurting, and that’s the worst thing for him. He’s not thinking clearly, and I’m afraid he’s going to end up either hurting himself, or worse…end up dead.”
“Don’t you want him to die? After all he’s put you through?”
Her question hits me hard, so hard I don’t even blink. My breathing falters, heartbeat stuttering. I stare at her, unsure how to answer, until she fidgets, curiosity burning deep in her eyes.
“When I first met him, all I could think about was killing him. At one point, all I wanted was for him to die and for me to get my old life back…but now, after all that time, I don’t know anymore. When I was there, he fueled me—inspired me. He revealed a side of me I never thought I’d be brave enough to own.”
She looks at me, and I can’t tell if she’s baffled or terrified.
Her mouth clamps shut, and she places her cup of water down.
“Chrissy and Olivia?” a woman calls and Jen looks back.
“Oh—here!” Jen tugs on my sleeve before standing. I grab my bag and follow her and the stylist to two empty chairs.