And now, I may never get to.
“So, what’s the plan?”
Richard sighs. “I’m honestly not sure. I need to get in touch with some people.”
I nod, feeling less than hopeful at the moment.
For some reason, I thought we would be getting her back in minutes, but from the worry on Richard’s face, I can see it’ll take much longer. But it doesn’t matter, I’ll never stop trying to find her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Journal entry: Hell is not a mythical place used by churches to scare people. Hell is right here in our country. In underground tunnels and abandoned places. Right in our own backyard.
It’s dark,the only light coming from the plastic window in the ceiling above. Elizabeth lays on the earthy ground, dirt covering almost every inch of both our bodies. At first, I tried to keep track of how many days I’ve been here. But between the malnutrition and the dirty water we are given to drink, my strength doesn’t allow me to stay focused or even conscious most of the time. When we arrived, they sprayed us down with a water hose, then gave us a piece of bread and dirty drinking water. The bread and water do not come every day, though. Maybe once a week, twice if we’re lucky.
For some reason, I didn’t think I would actually be here this long. That Lincoln would have saved me by now. But he hasn’t. Maybe I was never worth the trouble to begin with.
I turn my head in the ground, looking at Elizabeth. “Elizabeth,” I croak.
“Don’t worry, Callum. I’m still alive.”
A sigh of relief passes my lips. If it wasn’t for Elizabeth, I’m not sure what I would have done. She explained to me that this was a holding ground. Like, for livestock as they wait to get sold. Which is basically what we are. Things to be sold and owned.
It’s cold wherever we are. No blankets to fight out the chill of the night. It’s so cold sometimes I hear other women cry, their voices shaky and hoarse. They beg for blankets, for food, and sometimes, for death. Which some of them do succumb to. I’ve seen bodies being dragged down the dirty hallway, not even bothering to respect them by covering them up with a sheet or lifting them off the ground. And then, I see the roaring fire at the end of the dark hallway. It’s sick, because I’m always so thankful for the heat. Even if the smell of burning flesh makes me puke up the little I do have in my stomach.
“Elizabeth, how long do we have to stay here?” Elizabeth has been through this a few times. A long childhood of being sold. Used. Discarded. Her hair is a caramel brown when it’s not caked in dirt. I know this from the first day we arrived here. She has scars along her back, but I’ve never asked. Her soul is kind, but her spirit is broken. She lives in her head most of the time and I find myself doing the same. Because sometimes the only way to survive is by getting lost in your own mind.
“It could be years, Callum. You just need to find your happy place and go there. Even better if you can live there.” Elizabeth rolls onto her side, facing the metal bars.
I curl up into a ball, trying to keep the shivering at bay. The tears I cried have long dried. They won’t do me any good here. When I first arrived, I tried to come up with a plan to escape, cried for my mom and Lincoln, felt sorry for myself. I even thought death would be a better option than this. But all that crying and worrying has gotten me nowhere. So now, I slip into my happy place, forgetting where I am, how my face has a long scar on my cheek now. I envision Macy’s laughter as she eats cake at lunch, Bethany and her weird talk of witchery.
And then, somehow, it always ends with him. In a fantasy from my journal.
CHAPTER THIRY-FIVE
Winter break starts today.I’ve been a shit teacher, leaning on audiotapes and textbooks to do the teaching for me. I close my door, turning, only to be stopped by Macy. Dark circles beneath her eyes, sweatpants which are a far cry from the fashionista she’s always been. Jennifer stands beside her, no better in appearance. “Can I help you ladies?”
Macy’s lip trembles. “Where is my best friend, Mr. Boyd?” Wet, salty tears drip over her lashes. “Where is she?”
I work the knot in my throat. “I don’t know. We’re trying to find her.”
Macy nods, wiping a tear from her chin. Jennifer looks up at me, regret and sorrow in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Boyd. For everything.” I nod at her.
Bethany comes running down the hallway. “Any news?” she asks hopefully.
Macy wraps her arms around Bethany, her body shaking as she whispers something in her ear. Jennifer gently guides them away from me, throwing me a look over her shoulder before disappearing.
The guilt I feel guts me. I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I should have known someone was following us, known he had someone watching my every move. I got wrapped up in the silky comfort of vengeance and forgot to protect the most important thing in my life.
“Mr. Boyd,” Jake says softly, and I look up. “I—” He swallows, looking away from me. His eyes are red and puffy. “I’ve done some research, and the chance of getting her back or finding her even alive… they’re not good,” he chokes out.
We kept it a secret for a while but when the news leaked earlier this week of Derek’s arrest for murder and the kidnapping and selling of Callum, her beautiful face flashing on every news outlet in the country, the school went into an uproar. I’ve never seen an entire student body mourn before.
“I’ll find her,” I say.
Jake looks up. “I hope so, because that’s my best friend.” I pause. He lets out a sad laugh. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”