We went back "home," but the word felt like a stone in my throat. I stood in the driveway, staring at the front door of a place that I didn't belong to.
The silence inside the house was worse than the silence in the car. I didn't look at William. I didn't say a word. I just headed straight for the stairs, my only goal to reach my room and lock the world out. I was about to climb—my foot was hovering over the first step—when his hand clamped around my arm.
William dragged me back with a force that made my teeth rattle. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.
"You were bold back then, Mamacita," he whispered, his voice dripping with a history I couldn't remember but could definitely feel.
"Was I?" I shot back. I forced my voice to stay level, trying to sound like I was in total control of my emotions. It was the hardest acting job of my life, especially with him touching me like that—his fingers digging into my skin like he was marking territory.
I waited for his grip to loosen just a fraction. The second it did, I wrenched myself free and bolted up the stairs. I didn't look back. I flew into my room and turned the lock.
I leaned against the wood, my heart thudding like a trapped bird. I needed out. I needed answers. I pulled out my phone and dialed the only person who knew the truth.
"Mum," I whispered when she picked up. "William... why am I here, I miss you, I went to the docks with him they were saying things things about you I need to know the truth ' I need to know what happened."
There was a long, shaky silence on the other end. "Not over the phone," she said, her voice tight with fear. "Meet me at the old bukka near the bypass. One hour. Don't let him see you leave."
The line went dead.
It was 10:00 PM.
I couldn't just walk out the front door. I had to be smarter. I slipped out of my room and crept toward William's bedroom. My heart nearly stopped when a floorboard creaked, but he was already downstairs. I reached his nightstand and pulled the drawer open. My fingers found exactly what I needed: a bottle of sleeping pills and his heavy set of car keys.
I palmed two pills, grabbed the keys, and moved back to the kitchen like a ghost. I crushed the tablets into a glass of juice, my hands shaking so hard the powder almost spilled. I took a deep breath, put on a mask of fake regret, and went downstairs.
"William?" I said softly.
He looked up from the sofa, a smug, predatory smirk on his face.
"I'm sorry for reacting like that. I made you a drink. Can we just talk?"
He looked at the glass, then at me. His ego was his weakness; he wanted to believe I was finally giving in. He drained the glass in three long gulps. Ten minutes later, his head hit the back of the sofa.
He was out.
Now for the hard part.
I slipped toward the garage entrance, the keys heavy in my pocket. As I cracked the door open, the low murmur of voices reached me.
Guards.
They were standing near the main gate, smoking and laughing. I dropped into a crouch, moving behind the row of parked cars, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I reached the driver's side of the SUV and fumbled with the fob.
Chirp-chirp.
The lights flashed—way too bright in the dark garage.
"Who's there?" one of the guards called out. I heard the crunch of boots on gravel heading my way.
I dove into the front seat and ducked below the dashboard, praying they wouldn't look through the glass. The footsteps stopped right outside the door. I held my breath, my lungs burning, until I heard a radio crackle and the guard turned away, grumbling about a "stray cat."
I didn't wait.
I started the engine, slammed it into reverse, and tore out of the garage before they could react. By the time they were shouting for me to stop, I was already hitting the main road.
The drive to the bypass was a blur. I pulled up to the bukka, the engine idling as I scanned the shadows.
"Mum?" I called out, stepping into the cool night air.
The area was deserted. No car. No Mum. Just the sound of the wind rattling the rusted zinc roof of the stalls.
"Mum, are you here?"
I checked my phone.
11:15 PM.
Panic set in. I turned to get back into the car, but a pair of blinding headlights suddenly cut through the darkness. A black van screeched to a halt, blocking my path.
Before I could even scream, the side door slid open. A man stepped out—strong, silent, and wearing a ring that I recalled being before but couldn't point out where.
A hand clamped over my mouth from behind. The sharp, chemical smell of a rag hit my nose, and the world began to tilt.
My mum wasn't here.
She was never coming.
As the darkness swallowed me whole, the last thing I felt was the cold realization that I hadn't escaped the trap.
I had walked right into the center of it.