Give up. Oh, I wanted to cry at the unfairness of all this shit. What had I ever done to deserve this?
There was a beat of silence as he probably realized how close I was to having a meltdown. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been able to smell it. But I was shocked when he very calmly said, “I wouldn’t be asking… if it didn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter. Trust me.” I sighed, realizing how stupid that sounded. “Never mind. I forget you don’t, but you can believe me, there’s nothing that can affect you. Not anymore. I don’t think they know who you are, so as long as you don’t do anything to give yourself away, you’ll be fine.” I guess that was the only bright side.
Then I thought about it and lifted my head again to meet his gaze. I thought about it and said in Portuguese, assuming he understood it since he was Mr. I Know Several Languages. “Don’t let them see your eyes. Please don’t… do anything. I want you to make it out of here.” All I had wanted was to try and help him, and it was part of the reason why I hadn’t left my house despite all the warnings I’d ignored. I was such a stubborn fucking idiot.
I was going to be tortured one way or the other.
I wanted to laugh so I wouldn’t cry.
From his facial expression, he’d understood what I said, but he still replied in English. “Why are you making those noises?” The Defender asked in an exasperated tone, still talking to me for some magical reason.
Dropping back down to the floor, I rubbed my hands over my face and laughed weakly some more. “This whole situation is just… wow. Literally, wow. I must have done something really fucked up in another lifetime for things to end up like this.” Oh boy. “I wonder if it was in the same lifetime that I did something to you.” I sighed. “All I ever wanted was just to have a choice,” I mumbled to myself. It wasn’t like it mattered.
Not anymore.
Why hadn’t he tried to run? Or broken their backs? I was pretty sure if he’d really put his mind to it, he could have gotten away, or at least gotten some distance from the house so they couldn’t find him.
But I guess I understood what he wasn’t saying.
He still wasn’t healing enough.
We were screwed.
At least it sure seemed that way.
But I had to stop feeling sorry for myself, and I had to think. I wasn’t the smartest person in the world, but I had good problem-solving skills. I had always managed to figure everything out. We were short on money? I had this. I got my first job at fifteen despite my grandparents’ protests. The car wouldn’t start? Let me google it. I was lonely and bored? I was going to pack my days in so that I wouldn’t have a chance to think about it.
Maybe we couldn’t get out of here when he was in this condition, but on the other hand, there was the tiniest chance we could.
I had to try to get through this. If I couldn’t, if I didn’t, that would be one thing. At least I’d tried. At least I could look my grandpa and grandma in the eye when I saw them again. That was what they’d want.
I had to do this. For them.
First things first, I had to keep my shit together. We were in here, sure, but even if he wasn’t running at 100 percent capacity, he was still more incredible than any other being on the planet. Or he would be with some more time. Maybe I wasn’t remarkable at anything, but I paid attention, and my trusty gut—when I listened to it—had never steered me wrong. It was time I stopped ignoring it.
Breathe in, breathe out. Ignore the fact it felt like fire and it made me want to throw up because it was so painful.
Everything might be fine. It could be all right. No need to lose it. No need to fall apart. I was reasonable and practical.
Think, Gracie. How many shows and books had I read or watched with people who were trapped somewhere and they managed to escape? A fucking ton. I used to watch MacGyver. I just had to calm down and put one foot in front of the other.
One step at a time.
Propping myself up on a forearm and groaning while I did it, I looked around the room again to still find nothing but smooth white walls, flat light bulbs, a toilet, and sink. I didn’t want to ask. I knew I shouldn’t talk to him, but… “What do you think our chances are of starving in here?”
From the face he made, he seemed to actually think about it.
And I thought that said everything. Fuck. Oh fuck.
All right. How long would it take to starve? A month? How long until it really started to affect me? As long as the tap at the sink worked, at least there was water, or I’d be a goner a lot sooner than that.
I eyed him and wondered if he could rip out the sink, then the pipes from the walls, and get into the AC unit.
He could barely walk. How far would we really make it? There had to be some other plan. Maybe…
“You should know they went through your house,” The Defender said abruptly. “They burned it down. Your car, the greenhouse, the building… everything.”
My whole body went numb as I asked, “What?” thinking I hadn’t heard him correctly.
I hadn’t heard him right.
No.
I couldn’t have.
“If you ask me,” he said quietly and unexpectedly, “it was overkill.”
No.
No.
They’d burned the trailer down? All my things?
There weren’t a ton of them, but they were mine, and each one mattered.
My past and my present.
I wanted to ask if he was sure, but of course he fucking was. He was sarcastic, bossy, and secretive, but he didn’t hide being all those things. There was no reason he would make it up.
Everything was gone?
The place that had been my home for years. The remainder of my grandparents’ belongings and our memories together. It was all… it was all…
Oh God, I had nothing left.
Nothing.
Not my cell phone, which had precious voice mails. Not an old blanket. Not the few family heirlooms that we had made room for no matter how little space there was in the car.
Nothing.
This was all because I hadn’t fucking left when I should have.
My mouth filled with saliva, and those tears I’d been trying to keep control of poured out in the span of an exhale.
I slapped a hand over my mouth at the same time I drew my legs up and slouched forward, ignoring just how bad that hurt me everywhere.
Tears gushed over my fingers.
My home was gone.
Everything was fucking gone.
“Why are you crying?” the deep voice demanded from beyond my knees. “The house was small and smelled funny.”
I cried. I cried harder than I’d thought I was capable of.
“I lost everything,” I told him, my voice cracking. I mopped at my face with my wrist before even more came out. Losing my grandparents’ things hurt worse than my own. My grandma’s tablecloth. My grandpa’s watch.
My hands shook.
A wail built up in my throat, and I clung to it for dear life. Threw a fucking lasso around it and gripped the end like I would get stomped to death if I didn’t get it under control. It was stuff, yes, but…
“You still… have your life,” The Defender said.
It didn’t help. He was right, sure, but it didn’t make me feel any better.