Again, I feel the rush of cool air as I am lifted out of the car. The rain is cold but feels wonderful as my head bobs against my carrier’s shoulder. I have no strength left. The raindrops bounce off my face, sweeping away some grime.
If this is a dream, it is the best dream ever.
I am placed on a warm leather couch inside an airplane and watch as ten other men dressed in black board and take their seats. They look like SWAT or something. My vision is getting very fuzzy, and I am so tired.
“Stay with me, Savannah.” The voice comes from beside me. I force my eyes open to see my carrier looking down at me. His incredibly dark gaze holds on to me for a moment. A voice sounds over a speaker, and within a matter of minutes, I feel movement, and my carrier is gone from sight. My eyes grow heavy again with the hum of the plane. I have fought sleep for as long as I can. I feel myself sliding down into the void, and my last conscious thought is how I usually hate flying.
The calming sound of rustling leaves brings me back to consciousness. I move my head slightly, rubbing my cheek against the softest pillow ever. I smell the faint fragrance of fresh roses. Can this be right? My eyes flutter open, blinking a few times to take in the soft sunlight that fills the room. A wall made up of large windows with three doors that open to a balcony is on one side. An ivory curtain flutters in the breeze, wafting the floral scent of the roses in a glass vase to my eager nostrils. I feel a tug on my arm and realize I have an IV attached to my left wrist. The bag hanging from a pole next to me is almost empty. I take in the queen size sleigh bed with its amazingly red sheets and a duvet that feels like heaven. I am overwhelmed and close my eyes, drifting back to sleep.
When I regain consciousness, it’s dark, my fluid bag has been changed, and someone has lit a fire in the stone fireplace. The lovely sound of crackling wood almost brings me to tears—it is beyond soothing to my soul. Is this heaven? If so, I’m completely fine with being dead. I hear a creaking sound and freeze.
A door opens off to my right. An older lady, maybe in her fifties, wearing slacks and a blouse, comes in holding a tray. I start to push myself up into a sitting position, butoh, God, everything hurts.Sadness washes over her face.
“Oh, no, dear.” Her voice is soft. “Please, I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve been taking care of you for three days.”
My mind goes blank.Three days!I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, flinching. The pain is another reminder of the hell I’ve been through.
“Please.” She sets the tray down on the table and raises her hands. “My name is Abigail. I didn’t mean to scare you. I know you’ve been through a lot, but you’re safe now. I wanted to bring you something to eat, and maybe a few answers.” She raises her eyebrow, knowing I am interested. “May I sit?” She points to a rocking chair.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. At least she seems nice enough. I cautiously nod and watch as she pulls the chair over, being careful to not make any sudden movements. I know I should welcome her—and this place—with open arms, but instead I want to curl up in a ball and protect myself. I want so much to believe I’m safe.
“There, that’s better.” She smiles warmly. “Thank you. Please call me Abigail, or Abby. Everyone else does.”
Everyone? Who else is here?I look around, taking in the room again with a more critical eye. It is huge and has a high cathedral ceiling.
“I bet you’re wondering where you are,” Abby says. I turn back to her. “You’re at a safe house. No one here will hurt you. You’re extremely dehydrated and malnourished, but you are young, and your body is healing fast. Your back…” She clucks her tongue and looks sadly at me. “Your back must still be very sore, but it will heal soon. It will take some time to get your strength back and feel like your old self again.”
I stare at her a moment, then out the window, wondering where exactly I am.
She smiles, sensing my confusion. “You’re in North Dakota, Savannah.” She pauses a moment while this information sinks in.Holy shit! Okay, breathe.“I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but once you feel better, I can tell you more. You really need your rest.”
Rest, yes, that does sound like a good idea. Suddenly, I’m very tired again.
“But first, Savannah, do you think you could eat for me?”
Oh, God, food.I’m not sure if I am truly safe; eating is out of the question.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight, and your body is battered. You really need to help it by eating something.” She hands me a saltine cracker. “Baby steps.”
I slowly reach for it. Holding it in my hand, I look up to see her hopeful eyes. I lift the cracker to my nose, sniffing to see if it is laced with anything. It doesn’t smell funny. I take a small, cautious lick. It tastes normal.
The door suddenly flies open, and in strides a huge man. I immediately drop the cracker and pull the blankets up to my chin, turning a terrified look to Abigail. She looks as shocked as I feel at the sudden appearance of our intruder. She stands and shields me from him. “York, what are you doing, coming in here like that? You frightened the life out of us.”
He strolls in with a smirk. “Cole told me she arrived, and I wanted to make sure she was adjusting to her new accommodations.”
“She’s fine. Now, please leave.” Her posture tells me she’s been up against him before.
He leans to the side to get a better look at me and issues a wolf whistle. “My, she’s a pretty one. A real step up from the last, hey?”
The last? Where the hell am I?I feel sick. I see a bowl on the floor and heave over the side, letting my stomach retch and twist, removing anything that may have been in there.
“Oh, no,” Abigail moans, coming to my aid. “Here, Savannah, let me help you.” She pulls my long hair out of the way. When I finish, she takes a cool cloth to my face. It feels lovely having someone take care of me, though I cannot let my guard down. I am always wary of traps and know better than to let someone get too close. There are many questions firing off in my head. Am I safe? Where the hell is my father?
“Leave. Now,” Abigail hisses at York, who doesn’t seem to be fazed by my vomit show. “Does Cole know you’re here?” she asks, her voice more accusing than anything. That seems to get his attention, and for a moment, concern flickers across his face.
“Fine.” He shakes his head then gives me a smile. “See you later, pretty girl.”
This man seriously makes me uncomfortable. Abigail seems to have caught my feeling as she pulls the covers around me and tucks me in.