In to Her

They speak but I can’t understand them so I stop trying.

The next time I wake up to a sharp pain in my arm as drugs flood my body again. Logan says, “He’s waking up. Give him more.”

And I want to scream at him. Scream about my misplaced trust. Hate myself for falling for it. Hate him for lying to me. For making me think he cared.

Let me be your monster.

Hate that I agreed.

Because this is what monster Logan looks like.

I don’t know what happens next. I just know I’m in a vehicle and we are moving. I feel like this goes on for a long time. I feel like I’m about to wake up, but then I sleep again. I start to think that there’s no such thing as time. It’s an illusion. This isn’t real, just a nightmare, and if I could only wake up, everything will be fine. None of this really happened.

But I’m wrong.

Because I do, eventually, begin to wake.

And it’s one hundred percent real.

“Yvette,” AJ says. He sounds very far away, but I can feel his body next to mine. Just pressure and warmth.

Then the sound of a shotgun loading.

AJ moves. Maybe even sits up.

Why are we still alive?

But I know why.

Logan’s taking us back. He’s delivering us to Damon. He told us, over and over again… there is no escape. The island was a lie to make us compliant. To make us cooperate. Just a lie.

“Yvette,” AJ says again. “Are you awake?”

I don’t want to be awake. I’d rather die than go back to Damon. Rather die than let him rape me and beat me again.

And oh, God… I start to cry.

“Shhh,” AJ says. “Don’t, please. Don’t cry.”

“I told him,” I say. And to my surprise, my thoughts come out as words.

“What?” AJ whispers. “Told him what?”

I sob.

“Yvette!” AJ whispers, more urgency this time. “You told him what?”

“I told him where the baby is,” I wail.

“Shhh,” he says again. “Please. Don’t cry. And be quiet.”

“What’s the point?” I ask, rolling over. But I’m wrapped up in a blanket and I’m stuck. Which makes me panic.

“Yvette,” AJ says again. “Sit up. Just… sit up and calm down.”

“I can’t,” I say. “I’m tied up.”

“You’re not,” he says, his tone very firm. “You’re not tied up, Yvette. You’re just tangled in the blanket. Now try, OK? They’re outside and pretty soon they’re going to open that door and that’s our last chance, do you hear me? That’s our only chance. If we want to escape—”

“Weren’t you paying attention?” I laugh. “We can’t escape!”

Shouting outside. They’re speaking Spanish. That’s why I couldn’t understand earlier.

“Sit up!” AJ hisses in a low whisper. “Now!”

So I pull up my knees, roll over, and kick my way free of the thick blanket. It’s freezing once it’s off. So cold. And it’s dark. Just blackness.

“They’re going to dump us,” I say.

“I don’t think so,” AJ says. “We drove for a long time. Maybe days. We’re not in Colorado, Yvette. We’re far, far away.”

“Why is it so cold?”

“It’s not. That’s just the drugs. It’s warm in here. Just… wake up and you’ll see. I can’t do this without you, Yvette. I need your help.”

He’s right. I’m not tied up. Not even my hands. I push the blanket aside and reach out. Find his arm and grip it tight.

“There you go,” he says in a calm tone. “See. You’re not tied up. Now listen. They’re gonna open the door, and when they do, I need you to stay behind me and—”

But before he can finish the doors open and light floods in. Flashlights blinding us in the eyes.

AJ rushes forward, yelling at the top of his lungs. Lunging at them. Diving headfirst into the body that appears as a black silhouette against a streetlight.

They hit him with the butt of a shotgun.

They yell in Spanish.

They push him back.

They point their fingers and make wild gestures with their hands.

But they do not shoot.

And when AJ finally stops fighting, one says…

“Welcome to Mexico. If you behave, we will untie you now.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven – AJ

Yvette is sweaty and flushed when they pull her out of the van. She stumbles into the night but three men hold her up by her arms. Steady her as she tries to get her bearings.

It’s not hot, but it’s not cold either.

We are in Mexico. I don’t know how I can tell, I just can. I don’t see any street signs. It’s just an empty parking lot lit up by a single street lamp. But we’re somewhere on the coast because I can smell the ocean and off the distance there is the call of seagulls rising with the sun.

Three more men point guns at me. The one in front says, “AJ,” in a thick Spanish accent.

I just glare at him. I want to kill him.