The quietness had a weight, heavy like a knitted blanket, cascading over my shoulders with comfort.
Where the stars twinkled was the direction of my escape.
Out there to the horizon where faint island lights flickered.
So near…yet so far.
Jewelled lacquered kayaks had been hauled higher up the sugary beach, resting on their sides with their oars speared into their belly.
I could take one of those right now.
I could slip it into the sea, push off the shore, and paddle into the vastness.
But without a map, I would get lost. Without food, I would starve. Without water, I would die. Besides, Sully would notice I was missing within an hour. He’d chase me down and bring me back. He’d punish me—how I didn’t know—but an infraction like that wouldn’t go without reprimand.
I sighed heavily. My chin dug into my knees, tiny granules of sand sticking to my legs.
Perhaps, I’d done something bad in a previous life and this was my penance. Maybe, I’d been selfish without realising it or cruel without noticing, and the powers of the universe decided to make me pay.
But at least, I’d stayed true to my pact not to give in. Every night I fell asleep with my hand-drawn map clutched tight and every scenario of escape rushing from consciousness to dream world.
I’d toyed with every semi-sane idea for freedom: breaking into Sully’s office to use his phone and call my parents, befriending the pilots to fly me home, or even trying to switch places with a goddess on the day she was released (if Sully actually did let us go after four years…it could’ve been a lie).
When the sane ideas didn’t offer help, I’d turned to insane instead: making Sully fall in love with me, so he’d realise keeping me prisoner wasn’t the best way to treat his soul-mate, making Calvin fall in love with me so he’d kill Sully and free me, or telling a guest my name and begging them to pack me in their suitcase when they flew away.
As I sat on such a pristine beach in the early hours of dawn, a part of me felt guilty for bemoaning my captivity. As far as slavery went, I knew I had it easy.
I wasn’t minutely molested, physically beaten, or psychologically broken. I had the best food I’d ever tasted, the comfiest bed I’d ever slept in, and the prettiest jail cell ever created.
Sully’s islands were second to none.
I could travel the world with Scott forever and never find such heaven again.
So yes, the guilt came on strong when tears trickled down my cheeks at my inability to leave.
Any girl in that dark hovel in Mexico would gladly trade places with me. I had no doubt about that. That girl Tess was probably dead by now. Raped by her owner, tormented until she broke, and then tossed in a shallow grave to make room for the next purchased toy.
Not for the first time, I thanked everything celestial that I hadn’t been trafficked to such a man. However, Sully’s monstrous rule came in other ways—he granted paradise, ensured his goddesses had everything their heart desired, kept us healthy, content, and fed us an elixir that turned our one unavoidable task into pleasure.
That was his talent at control.
His effortless skill at dominion.
It wasn’t a fist or gun keeping us in line…it was the serenity, the safety, the endless idyllic sunny days where we could live peacefully, swim, indulge, laugh with fellow girls, and accept that four years wasn’t so bad in the scheme of a life.
A noise pricked my ears. A tiny chirp followed by the baritone of a male.
I froze by my bush as Sully appeared, walking swiftly, carrying a satchel and duffel. Pika flew after him, struggling to get purchase on his shoulder while Sully marched. “Go home, Pika.” His voice carried along the heaviness of the silence, low and gruff. “Go get drunk on hibiscus blooms for a few days.”
The parrot squawked and crash-landed on Sully’s head as he left the beach and strode purposefully down the jetty toward the helicopter.
Sully stopped and held up his finger, waiting for the parrot to climb aboard. When Pika perched safely, he brought his hand to his face and eyed the small creature. “You can’t come. You don’t ever want to return to that place.”
Pika hopped up and down, twittering in argument.
“I won’t be gone long. You won’t even notice. Go visit Skittles. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Pika let out a heart-wrenching squeak.
Sully sighed, and, in a move that split my chest in two, he brought the tiny bird to his lips and kissed his fluffy head. “Don’t get into too much mischief while I’m gone.”
Pika rubbed his face over Sully’s chin, scrambling to get closer, almost falling off his finger when Sully moved his hand away and carried the grumbling, mourning parrot to a heliconia bush. He waited patiently for Pika to climb off his finger and onto the red flower stem. When he didn’t, Sully shook him off. “Stay. Behave. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”