Rowan’s girly side had craved the hat, loving the pink sparkles. Even though they didn’t appear in her wardrobe, she had a weakness for things that glittered.
It’d been a long, emotional day. She knew the heaviness that always came after Malcolm’s party was about to start.
It was best to go home, hug her dog, and go to bed.
13
“Find your brother and you can split a candy bar.”
He pulled the blindfold from five-year-old Rowan’s eyes. She covered her eyes, the sunlight too bright.
“You’ve got five minutes.”
Rowan removed her hands and squinted, letting her eyes adjust. It wasn’t that bright. The man had brought her deeper into the woods, and the trees gently filtered the light.
“Get searching! Move!”
She broke into a run, not knowing where to go. The man had pulled Malcolm out of their shed early that morning, and she’d been panicking for hours, pacing and crying, wondering what he was doing to her brother. She rounded a tall pine. No Malcolm. And then shoved aside branches to peer under a thick bush.
Rowan didn’t dare call out Malcolm’s name, terrified the man would hit her for speaking or take it out on Malcolm. She doubted Malcolm would have answered anyway, scared of the same results. She glanced at the man. He wore his usual black mask that covered his entire head. His gaze met hers, his eyes angry in the mask’s holes.
“You’re getting colder!”
She reversed direction and sprinted to look behind more thick tree trunks.
What had he done to Malcolm?
Rowan continued to scramble and search. She tripped over roots and sliced a hand on a sharp branch. She and Malcolm were like the Hungry Hungry Hippos. Trapped in a game where the man pounded on their levers, making them snatch as many stupid marbles as possible. No skill involved. Simply a minute of frantic free-for-all to briefly entertain him.
And then do it over again.
But the find-your-brother game was new. Usually he brought them out at the same time to play his sick games. Rowan pushed her hair out of her eyes, sweat running down her forehead.
Where is he?
She just wanted the game to end.
“If you don’t find him, I’m not sure what you deserve. Maybe the hose.”
Rowan ran faster. She feared the hose. He’d used it on them several times, claiming they stank and needed to bathe. He forced them to stand still and soaked them in their clothes. If they moved, he’d swing the end of the hose at them. The metal tip had hit Rowan in the temple when she shuffled her feet to keep her balance in the spray. She’d bitten her tongue to not cry out.
Afterward she’d had soaked clothes, a cut on her head, and a deep sore on her tongue.
Malcolm had made her take off the wet clothes. At least the man had finally given them two thin blankets. He’d draped the clothes in the shed and wrapped her up in a blanket and then done the same for himself. At least it hadn’t been cold that night.
Would he still spray them when it started to snow?
Would he give them more blankets when it got really cold?
Rowan stopped, overwhelmed by the thought that she and Malcolm would still be suffering from this man when winter arrived.
“You don’t want me to hurt him, do you? You’re not trying very hard, so that means you do want me to punish him. I know you hate your brother.”
She didn’t reply and ran around the closest tree, not caring that she’d already checked it.
“You’re forcing my hand, girl. This is all your fault.”
Rowan dashed around more trees, hate and fear driving her legs.
“Maybe you should look under that pile of rocks.” He pointed at a clump of a few dozen rocks. It hardly could be called a pile. Nothing larger than a frog could hide under them.
But she dropped to her knees and started hurling rocks to the side. When there was nothing but dirt and fir needles left, she risked glancing at the man.
“Dig,” he ordered. “Maybe he’s under the dirt.”
Rowan dug. The earth was packed and dry. Dirt wedged itself under her fingernails. She scratched hard, trying to make a dent in the solid ground.
Did he kill Malcolm and bury him here?
“Stupid girl. He can’t hide under there. Maybe he went that way.” The man gestured to her left.
She scrambled to her feet and ran, brushing her hands against her pants, trying to relieve the pressure of the dirt under her nails. Rowan wove between trees, no longer looking, just running.
Maybe I can get away from him.
But what about Malcolm?
She couldn’t leave her brother behind. Her pace slowed, and she worried she was about to get lost. The woods suddenly opened up and a river appeared. Surprised, she slammed to a halt. She hadn’t known there was a river near their prison shed.