Текст книги "Hero"

Автор книги: Leighton Del Mia

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

40
Cataline

In a matter of twenty-four hours, my entire life has changed. The world as I know it has changed. There are superpowers, and people who want to steal me again. What’s supposed to be good is actually evil.

Calvin is watching me, patiently waiting for my response. My eyes dart between his as fast as my brain processes information. “I looked up to Hero,” I say quietly.

He steeples his hand over his nose and rubs his eyes. “I never meant for it to happen this way.”

“How could you do this to me while you’re out there saving everyone else?”

“I’ve always kept you safe,” he says, his voice rising. “I kidnapped you to save you. I know everything about you.” He juts his hand toward the door. “Why do you think the kitchen is stocked with your favorite foods? Everything in your closet is your exact size? Books I know you love, I bought for you.”

“I didn’t ask for any of that,” I say, my voice small.

“It was a mistake bringing you here. I thought I could control my urges, but instead I found new ones. I’ve only ever been with prostitutes or desperate women who let me do anything I want to them.”

My throat tingles. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because you need to understand the kind of person I am. I’m not built for a girl like you. I’ve broken you over and over. And if you stay here, I will continue to.”

The light pouring in is suddenly too bright, and my wrists throb painfully with the speed of my heart. “If I stay here?”

His eyes drift down to my bandaged arms. He stares and stares until I think he’s never going to speak. Finally, he asks without looking up, “Did you mean to do it?”

“At night I’ve prayed for Hero to save me from you. But he’s not coming. Because you are him, and he is you.” I force myself to also look at the wrists I tried to empty. When the knife sliced into my skin, it was a special kind of ecstasy. Watching the blood pour out didn’t scare me. “I don’t even know how I got there. I just remember the feeling.” I blink up to find his eyes back on my face. “It felt more right than anything I’ve done since I arrived.” The look he gives me could almost pass for anguish if I believed he was at all capable of such a thing. “Yes,” I say. “You bent me so hard that I finally broke. But I loved you anyway.”

The stillness that follows is palpable. I understand that I simultaneously love and hate him the way he is simultaneously good and evil. I can’t grasp why that matters, though, because they just feel like words to me now. The only truth I comprehend is that good and bad, love and hate, right and wrong, captor and captive—none cannot exist without its opposite.

“I’m going to give you what you wanted all along,” he says.

My dry eyes blink slowly. Does he know he’s what I wanted all along? Does he know about the crush I had a lifetime ago, when he was something to look forward to each day?

“Your freedom,” he says. “I’ll arrange it.”

My head is light, my body heavy. This is what I wanted. This is what I ran for, what I jumped for. Any concept of love is irrelevant, because I don’t know this man. I know nothing about my hero, and so, I know nothing about myself. He wields that much power over me. Not only did he take my body, my mind, and eventually my heart, but now he’s ripped me of my sanity, of the capability to feel anything.

I don’t know what he expects from me as he watches and waits. Relief? Defiance? Does he think after learning the truth I could love him enough to stay?

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Make the arrangements.”

41
Calvin

I can’t expect Cataline to want to stay crushed in my tightening fingers, but to release her feels wrong. It’s the knowledge that I’m what’s most harmful to her that urges me to stand from her bedside. It’s the horror of her loving me that makes me walk out the door.

Norman stands waiting in the study with his hands folded in front of him. “How did it go?”

I nod once. “It’s time for her to go.”

“You’re making the right decision.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

“Where will you send her?”

“Does it matter?” I ask. “Anywhere that’s not here. Somewhere neither the Cartel nor I can touch her. Let the office know I won’t be in for a while. Carlos will have my undivided focus from now until Cataline’s left the country.”

“I’ll start getting things in order. I do think it’s best I handle Cataline from here.”

I squint at him and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not an idiot, Norman. Don’t tell me what’s best.”

“Fine, sir. It’s just that she trusts me.”

My nostrils flare. “Why shouldn’t she? You’ve spent the last three months fussing over her.”

“If you go to her with a plan, she might think it’s another trap.”

“I get it. I understand. If not for me, she might be drugged senseless and shoved into the role of Cartel prostitute. But you’re right. I’m the one who trapped her.”

“You’re exaggerating. They only wanted her to get to you. They have no use for her otherwise.”

“Is that so? Tell me more, Wise One. Let’s say their plan worked, and, using Cataline as bait, they got me where they wanted me. Let’s say they killed me. You think their next step would be to send her on her merry way after all she’d seen?”

“It would take a great deal to kill you, sir.”

“So I should’ve taken that chance is what you’re saying?”

 “I think there were options you chose to ignore. But it’s too late now, and we have to deal with the mess. In fact, I should go check in on her.”

“Right, go ahead. Run to her room and feed her chicken soup as you wipe her tears.”

“Don’t get defensive when you’ve put yourself in this position. All I’ve done is treat her like a human being. I warned you to be careful.”

“Just go,” I say, rubbing my temples. “I’ve had enough for one day.”

“I’d say we all have. She needs some time to recover, but then I think it’s best she leaves at once.”

“Good,” I say. “Fine.”

When Norman’s gone, I scrub my hands over my face. Cataline won’t let me be. Cataline wild at the window. Frowning when she lost at eight-ball. Hugging my neck after being mistaken for a prostitute.

She haunts me, and it continues for days.

I’m selfish. I can’t watch her go. Norman has his instructions. When the sun rises on the morning of her departure, I’m already on the road to New Rhone.

My parents decided my fate before I was even born. When they died, that fate was sealed. I’m charged with making the world a better place, with serving justice in their absence. As I leave the mansion, it occurs to me that I’m driving away from the only thing I ever actually wanted for myself.

42
Cataline

Norman gives me a medium-sized suitcase, but I don’t have anything to put in it. I arrived with nothing, and as I stare into the closet full of expensive pieces, all I can think is that these things aren’t mine.

When Norman finds me in the same place he left me, he tells me to leave my suitcase and leads me up the forbidden staircase. I’ve cut the memory of Calvin as Hero off at the root every time, but now that I’m back in the doorway, it’s proving difficult. I turn my face and inhale deeply as Norman waits. When I’ve collected myself, I enter what appears to be another study. I can’t imagine Calvin picking out the rug with threadbare spots that sits under a large, oak desk. Yellow lamps break up brown leather chairs and wooden end tables. Worn book spines are organized by author. I glance at Norman from under my lashes and then at the phone centered on the desk’s surface.

“For emergencies only,” Norman says. “It takes incoming calls only. Sources around the city alert us to imminent danger. They don’t know too many specifics. Master Parish likes it that way. Demands it, rather,” he says with a hedging smile. “You know me as a butler, but my most important job is to receive calls, investigate their validity, and send Hero on assignment.”

The alarm-like ringing throughout the house that sends Norman running every time makes more sense now. I walk over to a bulletin board covered in newspaper articles and photographs.

“That’s my doing,” Norman says from behind me, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Master Parish despises it. There isn’t much to show because he insists on limited exposure, but it’s important to me to track our progress and success.”

I finger an article: “Hero Strikes Again? Witnesses claim mystery man lifts overturned car to rescue elderly couple”

“He’s a good man, Cataline. He’s done a lot of good here. As you can see, he loves this city, and it loves him back.”

“His parents did this?” I ask.

Norman sighs. “It’s complicated. Their intentions were good. They meant for him to be an answer. It was their passion for progress, humanity, and their only son that fueled them to perfect that formula. I’m not sure how much Master Parish told you, but New Rhone was only the beginning. They wanted every major city to have its own Calvin.” He shakes his head. “He’d never share the injections, though. He doesn’t think of himself as anyone’s hero.”

“Stop,” I say. The article’s black words blur together. I swallow it back just as quickly because I’m not that girl anymore. And I don’t know the man Norman speaks of.

“There’s a secret door,” Norman volunteers. When I turn, he gestures to the opposite wall. I peer closely but see nothing. Norman demonstrates by tapping a spot on the wall to uncover a hidden keypad. After typing in a code and scanning his thumb, the entire wall rises to reveal a pair of steel doors. It’s an elevator, but more importantly, it’s validation for all the manic searching I did for secret exits around the house.

“Downstairs is Hero’s . . . lair, if you will. It houses his armor, weapons, the security system. It’s completely protected should we ever need it to be. His body is his best weapon and the key to his survival, but he needs his tools as well.”

“Tools?”

“Of course. We never know what he might encounter. Tranquilizer darts, retractable, industrial strength rope, chloroform capsules. Those are just the things he keeps in his belt.”

“Chloroform? Is that what he used on me?”

“Yes. And then I gave you a mild tranquilizer when you arrived.”

“What makes you think that’s okay?”

He shrugs. “I suspect it was a nicer way of knocking you out than whatever the Cartel had planned.”

I cross my arms. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“You must be curious. You know the secret now, so I don’t see the harm.”

“I don’t care what Calvin needs to justify his psychotic behavior.” It’s a lie. I am curious about the downstairs space, which I envision as a dark and dank cave filled with the things of comic books.

“There’s no Batmobile or anything like that,” Norman says, and my eyes grow big. In light of recent events, I’m not entirely sure they can’t read my thoughts. “The car’s in the garage. He drives a high-class vehicle, but there’s not much more to it than your average car, aside from bulletproof windows and some upgrades catered to speed and agility. Much like Master Parish himself,” he murmurs, chuckling.

“Is this funny?” I ask. “I’m sorry, I just—is there some humor in the situation I’m not seeing?”

“Oh, dear, no,” Norman says, rushing to my side. He surprises me with a strong hug. “I don’t find pleasure in any of this. And though you may not believe me, the same is true for Master Parish. He’s not the monster you believe him to be.”

“Then you don’t know him as well as you think,” I say, limp in his arms. “Either that, or your definition of monster needs updating.”

He sniffles in my ear as his chest crackles against me. This old man, who has devoted his life to helping from the wings, is going to cry right here while he holds me.

“You’re a good girl.” His voice splits down the middle. “He just wants to keep you safe. That’s why he took you. That’s why he’s sending you away.”

“He’s not sending me away,” I say, my first flicker of anger returning. I wrestle out of Norman’s embrace and step back. “He’s giving me back something he took. That wasn’t his to take in the first place.” Norman’s face falls. “What’s the next step?” I ask.

“Cataline—”

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my hands into two solid fists. “The plan, Norman. I’m not free until I’m free. What’s the plan? Where am I going?”

“Sit,” he says with a defeated sigh, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk. He takes the seat next to me and slides a pile of papers into his lap. He shows me a long, rectangular envelope. “Your plane ticket,” he says. “New Rhone is no longer your home.”

I swallow. My head shakes involuntarily. “I’ve never wanted to be anywhere else.”

“You have to go. These people only want you as a means to an end. They have no regard for your life like Master Parish does.”

I look out the window and nod.

“You have a full few days of travel ahead of you. You’ll be staying each night of the next week in a new location to throw anyone off the scent.” He hesitates. “You will pick up a new ticket in each place you land. I can’t tell you your final destination, just that someone will be waiting there for you.”

“It’s that serious? They’d follow me out of New Rhone?”

“We’re not sure, but Master Parish is insistent we take all precautions. Your safety is his responsibility, or so he believes.”

“It’s not.”

“In any case, do not tell anyone of your plans. Carter is fully briefed on the situation. He’ll take you directly to the airport and see to it that you get on the plane safely. He’s been on staff as long as anyone, and he’s the strongest, most capable man we have.”

“Aside from Calvin.”

“Yes, aside from Calvin. But, uh, he’s indisposed today.”

“Of course,” I say. “I don’t expect another minute of his time.”

He clears his throat. “Very well.” He holds up a blue booklet and passes it to me. “Your new passport.” He averts his eyes when he says, “You’re no longer Cataline Ford.”

My fingers tighten around its smoothness. “What if I don’t agree to any of this?” I ask. “What if I want to be Cataline, and I want to go back to work at Parish Media, and I want to go home and see Frida and live in New Rhone? Why can’t I do that?”

“I suppose you can if you don’t think their threat is serious. But Calvin will always be here. He’ll never leave this city.”

“Then why not kill everyone involved? If he wants to protect me so fervently, why not just wipe out the bad guys?”

“The people of New Rhone love and respect Hero, therefore they let him do what needs to be done. In a way, they protect him too. If he were to start killing recklessly, he’d lose their support. You must understand, without this, Master Parish has nothing.”

I sigh. “I know. The city should be his first priority.”

Norman tilts his head to catch my gaze. “Not only that, but you’ve told me you hated that job and what you really want is to pursue photography.”

I look down at the paperwork in my lap, thumbing the passport open. The picture is the same as the one from my license, which I haven’t seen since before I arrived. But the name next to it is different. Jennifer Dean. “I did,” I say. “I guess I still do.”

“When you stayed with the Andersons, Calvin gave them a stipend for your care.”

My head jerks up. “What?”

“After you left, they were instructed to send you a monthly allowance. Apparently that money never made it to you. It’s all here, some cash, some in a savings account, plus credit cards in your new name.” Another envelope, this one large and heavy, lands in my lap. He gives me the warmest smile I’ve ever received. “Enough to do—well, whatever your heart desires. This is your chance to start over, dear. Live the life you’ve deserved ever since their death.”

My eyes burn holes through the envelope. Restitution for the destruction of my life. Something to allay Calvin’s guilt for what he’s done. It makes me sick to accept it, but what choice do I have? Where I’m going, how else will I get by?

“Are you scared?” he asks.

“No.”

He sits back. “No?”

“I don’t even know how to be scared. I’m finding that when your world is ripped apart, you have to learn everything all over again. I thought I . . . I mean, what is love, anyway? Or fear? I can’t touch them. I can’t hold them in my hand. How do I know they’re real?”

“If that’s what you think, then maybe you and Calvin aren’t all that different.”

My lips thin into a line. “Are we through here?”

Norman fills me in on the rest of the details and ends up packing for me. My suitcase is filled with foreign clothes and disguises designed and labeled by him. And my camera, the only thing I care to take. When Norman asks if I’d like to be alone one more time to say good-bye to the mansion, I look at him like he’s gone mad.

My heart pounds as we cross the foyer to the front door. Sunlight pierces the dusky room when Norman cracks the door. I pass through a shimmering cloud of dust particles to the doorway. I just catch Norman’s concerned expression before I allow myself one slow, controlled step outside. I walk down the solid stairs and onto the gravel driveway. Carter hulks over the car, leaning both elbows on the roof. We make eye contact, and I glance at Norman, who nods.

I don’t look back, not even to make sure this isn’t a cruel joke and Calvin’s there, ready to snatch and lock me inside again. My steps pick up speed, my suitcase tumbling behind me. When I get there, Carter is opening my door and ushering me inside with a quick glance around the area.

When he’s in the driver’s seat, he glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Ready for your trip, Cataline?”

“Get me away from here. I just want this nightmare to be over.”

I say this as though it matters what I want. Wherever I go, Calvin can find me. He doesn’t want to though, and I hate what the thought inspires in me. I abruptly douse that ember of longing. He wants me gone just as much as I want to be gone. For the first time in a while, I sigh with relief. I let myself believe the lie that I’m finally safe again. Finally free.

43

“You make me real. When you breathe into me, when you’re inside me, expanding, coming, you make me real.”

“You make yourself real, Cataline.”

“No. I wasn’t real until I felt you inside me.”

Was stripping myself bare and taking all of Calvin inside my body a dream? How can loving someone who doesn’t exist feel so real?

It’s not until Carter and I have been driving for some time that I tune in to my surroundings. My heart fills amongst the tall, glowering buildings of New Rhone, and the car’s reflection warps in silver, mirrored windows. It seems more sinister than it did months ago, the skyscrapers blending with a grey sky. It’s a haven nonetheless.

My mood plummets when I orient myself, though. The buildings shrink to standalone, rundown shops that appear deserted. One is on fire. Some pedestrians scramble to put it out while others lean against the opposite building, cigarettes sagging from their mouths.

The car suddenly veers from the pavement onto a dirt path. “Carter?” I ask as I jostle in my seat. “Maybe I’ve never flown before, but I know there aren’t any airports on the East Side.”

“Don’t worry, Cataline. It’s part of the plan.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

Out the window, I look for anything familiar through the cloud of dust the car kicks up. I slip my hand into the door handle. With the sudden pounding of my heart, my scarred wrists pulsate. They don’t think I can outrun Carter. My eyes close, and I pull with no result.

“You were locked up in that house a long time,” Carter says. “Few months.”

“Where are you taking me?”

He looks thoughtfully out the windshield, as though I’m not even here. “My wife, she’s been nagging me to get out of this job since we had a kid.”

“What makes you think I care?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just want you to know that I don’t feel good about this. So I go to Parish, tell him to hire help. A mansion’s too much for one man, even with all that high-tech shit. I’m thinking maybe with another guy, eventually I can leave.”

“What’s this have to do with me?”

He twists to glance at me over his shoulder. “Good you didn’t lose your nerve. Some girls would’ve.” He turns forward again. “Anyway, he basically tells me to fuck off. Won’t give me vacation because there’s nobody else. Won’t let me quit, even though my wife says she’s had it.”

“It’s a job,” I say. “Why can’t you just leave?”

He’s quiet a few moments, so I assume the conversation is over. Finally he says, “He’s a killer, you know.” He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Calvin is. He’s killed a lot of people. Nothing more important to him than his secrets. Not one thing, not no one.”

Up ahead is the outline of what look like shacks. I fumble for the lock while watching the front of the car.

“Cartel came to me, and at first I said no way. Parish might be a bastard, but he’s not a bad guy, and he does good for this city. They threatened my family, Cataline. So I told them in exchange for Hero, I want a new life. I’m taking my family out of here—out of Parish’s reach. He’d kill me for it, so the Cartel’s getting me out of the country soon as I deliver you. My wife and kid—he’s five-years-old next month—they’re waiting for me at home, bags packed.”

“You don’t have to do it this way,” I say. “I’ll talk to Calvin about your job. I’ll tell him—”

“You think he gives a damn? What I’m trying to say is he’d kill me before he let me go. I tried to do this without you. Set it up so Hero went to them. Thought of all these ways I could catch him by surprise. But this guy I’m dealing with, he says you’re the answer.”

“They’ll kill me, Carter.”

“Nah. They have no reason to. You’re just bait.”

I wait for him to continue, but he pulls the car up to one of the huts and parks. “I’m sorry, kid. I am. They might rough you up a little, probably no more than Parish did. They won’t kill you, though. My advice is tell them what they want to know so they don’t hurt you. It’s just Parish they’re after, and I get the feeling you need to see him suffer more than anyone.”

The car door’s ominous slam reverberates through the leather seat underneath me. It’s the first time my role in this feud feels real. Hero has made a dangerous enemy in the Cartel, and leverage against someone as cold as Calvin is limited.

I try every handle in the car, searching for an unlock button that doesn’t seem to exist. Through the windshield, Carter approaches a boy who looks barely teenaged. They stand outside a building with crumbling brick walls that’s one of a few in a field of golden, dead grass.

When the teenager vanishes inside, I recognize the man who takes his place right away. Ash-blond hair combed away from a handsome, tan face. His square jaw is hard as he frowns, listening to Carter. Tension runs in ribbons through his muscular arms, his tattoos dancing in a splash of bright colors from under his rolled-up sleeves.

Carter gestures to the car, and Guy Fowler’s eyes cut right to me. I think I was afraid of him the first time I saw him, but I didn’t realize it. Now, I see a sort of recklessness in his blue eyes, something too disturbing for such a pretty face. I get the feeling the version of hell where Guy is in charge will be different from the one I’m escaping.

I reach over the front seat to check the driver’s door. It opens just as I reach for the handle, and a hand slaps over my wrist.

“Hey,” Carter says. “This could get ugly if we’re not careful. Just listen, and do what they say, okay?” He yanks hard on my wrist and pulls me out of the car, ignoring the way my body bumps and jerks over the console.

I fall into the dirt at Carter’s feet, fighting as he drags me. “Let go of me,” I say.

“Let go,” Fowler echoes from the porch, and Carter’s grip releases instantly.

I get to my feet, vainly brushing dirt from my jeans. Fowler stands motionless as I walk to him.

“Cataline,” he greets, his mouth quirking into a smile. “I wasn’t sure Carter could pull it off, but here you are.”

“He won’t come after me,” I say. “I’m just a fuck toy gone to the trash.”

Guy’s expression falls, and after a moment, he shakes his head and tsks. “Ay, díos mio. What’s he done to my sweet girl?” His head inclines toward his shoulder. I flinch away when he touches my hair. “We never did get that date, did we? A certain someone came between us.”

He takes my chin with his thumb and forefinger, lifting my face as I breathe through my nose. “What do you want with me?” I ask.

“You’re the only thing he cares about enough to come after.”

“And when he doesn’t come?”

“He will.”

“Then what?”

He taps a gentle fingertip on my jaw, seemingly lost in thought. He squints up at the tangerine sun and then back at me. “Carlos Riviera is avenging his father’s death. Justice is very important to us.”

“Justice.” My tone is mocking, strong with false confidence. “That's a bullshit excuse for murder.”

He laughs. “You’re adorable. Since the moment I saw you I thought so. I’m not at all surprised about his affection for you.” To the man behind me, he says, “Show her to her room.”

“Should I call Carlos?” he asks.

“Not yet. I need time alone with her.”

“¿Y señor Carter?”

Fowler’s eyes return to mine when he says, “Carter is a traitor to Hero, which makes him a friend to Riviera. Carlos promised him protection out of the country.” He pauses, and I can almost hear Carter smiling. “However, betrayal after years of servitude tells me he’s not such a great friend to have. He knows too much. Kill him.”

A crow’s mocking cry is the only sound in the seconds of ear-piercing silence that follow. When Fowler pivots and walks away, I’m urged forward by a rough pair of hands. Screaming fills the dry afternoon air—not my own. Not this time. This time it’s Carter, and his screams are those of someone confronting death. I know because I’ve heard them before.

I look directly up at the smoke-shrouded sun. The nearby fire has turned the sky an unnatural neon orange color. My eyes burn, and ash rains softly around us. The smoke makes everything ugly, but I don’t care. I soak it all in, wondering if it’s the last time.

My room is only a room, a cell with a door instead of a gate. This cell, at least, is above ground with a barred window. I am once again without my things; even things that never belonged to me are taken away.

The boy from outside is smug as he shoves me deeper into the aridness. Before I can react, someone is grabbing my sweater to push me on the ground. The door opens and closes behind me, footsteps scrape, hands grab at my arms, turning me onto my back. Somebody is screaming, an elbow jabs into my side, a body covers mine, hands bind my wrists to the cold concrete. I realize I’m the one screaming as I count one, two, three leering faces above me.

“Revancha,” says the one with his hands under my top, clawing at my bra.

The man holding my right hand spits onto my cheek. “Puta.”

Even with Calvin’s confession, I can’t comprehend why they think this is revenge on Hero. I drive my knee into the balls of the man on top of me, and he curses. His fist sends my cheek into the concrete, but he pulls my face back up with a tight grip around my jaw. He forces his lips against mine, choking me with an infusion of hard alcohol and cigarettes.

The room explodes with a sudden gunshot and echoes with startled shouts. Guy is shirtless and standing in the doorway, his gun aimed at the ground as everyone stares at him. He fires another shot and all at once I’m released and alone on the floor.

“Fuera.” Guy’s tone is commanding but calm. The men look at each other, muttering in Spanish on their way out of the room.

I’m panting hard as Guy tucks the gun into his waistband so just the butt sticks out. “Sorry about them,” he says, walking toward me. “Nothing is off limits in the name of revenge.” My eyes flicker between his face and his outstretched hand. His arm drops to his side when I get to my feet on my own. “I can’t quite figure out what draws me to you,” he says. “Perhaps it’s your innocence.”

“I’m not innocent,” I insist. “Not anymore.”

“You are though. There’s a desperate hope in you that hasn’t yet been crushed.”

“You’re wrong. I have nothing left, least of all hope. You have no idea what I’ve been through already.”

His eyebrows draw together slowly as his mouth puckers. He comes closer, and I retreat until we’re in one corner of the room. I have to look up to meet his eyes. Unlike the intense pull of Calvin’s green, they’re the calming color of the sky, the Heavens. I jerk away when he raises his hand and touches my screaming lip. “They hurt you,” he says, showing me dots of my blood on his fingertip. “But he hurt you more.”

I exhale the breath I’d been holding.

“Do you hate him?”

“No.”

His head draws back. “No?”

“What happens when Carlos gets here?”

His eyes scan over my face. Finally, he says, “What a terrible host. You must be hungry. Squat and keep your hands where I can see them.”

“What?” I ask. “Why?”

“Those mutts will come sniffing around again. If you want me to keep them away, you better do as I say.”

His tone is chillingly even, as if his speech is rehearsed. I think he can smell my fear, but I can’t help gulping. My knees buckle, and I crouch with my palms on my thighs.

“Good. I’ll be back with some food.”

He leaves me there in a room both musky and silent. Locked up and put into a strange position in the corner seems fitting for a pawn with no past and no future. My endless state of forced ignorance and innocence is exhausting, and I’m left wishing Calvin had never saved me from my fall.