“I’m sorry, Eve,” he says.
“It’s okay, Papa.”
“I’ll find a way to get you back, Eve.”
“I’ll be fine, Papa.”
“That’s enough,” Forwal says. He doesn’t offer to let me gather any of my clothes or belongings. He doesn’t give me anymore time. He simply motions for me to follow him out the front door and somehow, I manage to force myself to move. Somehow, I manage to go with him.
There’s a large carriage outside with a driver sitting out front. Two horses are connected to the carriage. There are another two horses with saddles and baggage. I suppose those are for Forwal’s goons.
“Get in the carriage,” Forwal commands, and once again, I obey him wordlessly. I should turn around and look at my childhood home. I should turn around and try to get one last glimpse of my father. I should turn around and whisper goodbye to the place I was born, the place I was raised, but I don’t. Instead, I climb into the carriage and sit down. Then I place my hands in my lap.
Forwal says something to his men before joining me. I can’t make out the words and I’m not truly listening. My life is going to be different now. My life has changed. Everything is going to be new and strange.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.
Forwal climbs into the carriage and closes the door. I expect him to sit across from me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits directly next to me on the bench. He scoots over until our hips are touching and he places one of his hands on my thigh.
I don’t flinch.
I should flinch.
A proper girl would flinch.
That’s what a good girl would do.
I’m not really a good girl.
The thought floats through my mind quickly before I banish it, along with all my other secret dreams and fantasies. Those are the things I keep locked away, the things no one must ever know about. Those are the things I must hold close to my heart. Those are the secrets I must never share.
Forwal doesn’t speak. Instead, he simply sits with his hand on my thigh, reminding me silently that I am his now. He can do with me as he wishes. If he wants to lock me in a dungeon, he can. If he wants to make me his servant, he can. If he wants to toss me in a bedroom and play with me, he can. He can do his bidding.
There is nothing I can do to stop him.
I should feel sadder. I should feel fear. I should feel so many things that I don’t, and I wonder what could possibly be wrong with me. Most women would be crying, begging for their lives. Most women would be asking their captor not to touch them, not to hurt them, but I’m not doing that.
I’m not begging because I don’t want him to take his hand away.
I don’t want him not to touch me.
The carriage jerks to a start and Farwol keeps his hand in place as we ride into the night. I don’t know where we’re going.
And I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.