That set them off again.
***
One night, Thane told her about the plan.
“There’s a key to the door,” he said quietly. “They keep it on a chain on the belt loop when they bring food.”
“Are you sure it is the right one to your door?” she asked, her voice flat.
“I have seen them lock it behind them more than once. Zel nearly got it once, but he got caught. They beat him bad, that time.”
Thane continued, softer now, “We’re waiting. They will get sloppy, and then we’ll jump them. We just need to time it right, like penalty kick time. Then we will come and get you.”
“What about the passcode? I don’t know it. My door…”
A pause.
“We will get help. I promise, you are coming with us.”
“Do you promise?” she asked, too afraid to hope.
“I promise, Dory.”
There was a pause.
“There was another boy with us…Paul. He was fifteen years old.”
Her breath hitched. She knew something bad was coming.
“They took him one day. Later, I heard them say he was getting too old to be fun.”
He didn’t need to say the rest.
They never saw Paul again.
“We are going to die if we don’t escape,” he said grimly.
She silently agreed.
***
The dress was purple this time.
It hung heavy on her shoulders, stiff at the seams. She was shaking all over like her bones had turned to jelly.
Her eyes stayed open, but she wasn’t in them.
She was being carried back.
She floated in and out, her head rolling against the man’s chest, her limbs loose and wrong. Her left arm hung limp over his shoulder, her hand swinging freely. There was a rhythmic clicking sound. Then:
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The sound was faint, but it snapped something in her fogged mind.
A cold metal jangle like bells.
She wasn’t fully aware as her fingers brushed it again—something clipped to the man’s belt. Her mind slowly, fuzzily connected the dots. The keys. Thane’s keys. The ring. The loop.
