I want to tell her she’s wrong. That I’ll get out. That someone’s coming for me. That Cameron is out there, tearing the world apart to find me.
But I don’t.
Because hope is dangerous here.
And I can’t afford to feed her any more lies than she’s probably already heard.
Instead, I reach out carefully and place my fingers over the back of her hand. Just for a second. Just enough to remind us both that we’re still human.
But something’s shifted inside me now. A quiet understanding.
This girl—this child—needs protecting.
She hasn’t lived yet. Not really. She’s barely more than a whisper of who she’s meant to become, and already her body is being punished like mine. Treated like currency. Like property.
I don’t remember everything that happened while I was under, but my body tells the story. Every time I try to squeeze my thighs together, I feel it—deep, aching bruises that weren’t there before. Proof etched into my skin.
And if they’ve done that to me, I can only imagine what they’ve done to her.
She’s younger than me. Smaller. Quieter.
And if no one else will protect her—I will.
Even if I can’t save myself, or Darcy, maybe I can save her.
“I’m going to get you out of here, Lea,” I whisper, the words barely audible in the thick, stale air.
She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look at me. She just rises from my bed without a word and climbs back onto her own, curling into herself—folding back into the mattress like it’s the only place she belongs.
“There’s no getting out,” she says flatly, her voice stripped of hope. It’s not defiance. It’s surrender. She’s not clinging to anything anymore, not even the idea of escape.
But I am.
I have to.
A loud bang rattles the door, and Lea is on her feet in an instant. No hesitation. No fear—just muscle memory. She cracksthe door open, peeks through, then retrieves two plates from the floor. The food is a grey, lumpy mess that smells faintly of metal. It looks more like punishment than nourishment. A promise of food poisoning if there ever was one.
“We need to eat,” she says, setting one plate in front of me. “If we don’t, they’ll punish us.”
Her voice is calm. Practiced. She knows the rules here too well. I don’t ask how long she’s been trapped in this place. I don’t want to know how many nights she’s endured. How many men have stolen pieces of her.
I stare at the plate. My stomach turns just looking at it, let alone actually taking a bite. But I force it down. Then another bite. My body tries to reject it, but I keep going.
Because if I don’t eat, I won’t have the strength. And if I don’t have the strength, I’ll never get us out of here.
It’s strange—comforting, even—getting to know Lea. When she’s sure no one’s listening, she opens up in quiet fragments. She tells me about her parents, about the boy she thought she loved. The one who promised her everything, only to hand her over like she was nothing. A lie wrapped in a smile—something I know all too well.
But when she speaks about her parents, her voice softens. There’s love there. Real love. The kind that leaves a hole when it’s gone.
They must be looking for her.
They have to be.
I think she’s starting to trust me. Just a little. And that’s dangerous—for both of us. Because now that I know her, evenjust a little, the protectiveness is growing. Quietly. Steadily. Inch by inch.
She deserves to make it out of here in one piece.
She deserves a life beyond this place.
