CHAPTER 1

Ana

I don't know how many days have passed since I watched Ryan bleeding out on the

floor of his cabin while the chloroform-soaked rag clouded my brain and dragged

my consciousness away from me. I don't know how long I've been locked in this

room. I don't know where they've taken me, except that it's a long, long way away

from that little cabin I came to think of as home. I don't know how many times

they've beaten me for information.

I don't know how long I've spent locking the world out, retreating into myself and

disassociating from my surroundings. I feel like I've just woken up for the first time

in weeks. I've never been more scared, more timid, more weak. I've never hated

myself so much before.

The door opens and I jump in alarm, triggering a shock of pain that seems to

emanate from everywhere. My head, my ribs, my arms, my legs... is any part of me

uninjured?

I want to cower in fear from the man advancing on me. I want to cry and whimper

and beg, like Casper. Casper. What happened to Casper?

Despite the terror rising in me, I look up at the man standing before me. I can't

manage a defiant look or even a minor expression of annoyance. The fear inside me

overpowers the anger and rage I wish I had the guts to express. The man is younger

than I expected and he has eyes of steel. I manage to stare back at him hollowly,

like the bombed-out shell of a person. I suppose I am the bombed-out shell of a

person.

To my surprise, the steel in his eyes softens and melts into an expression I can't

place, but it doesn't look like the face of an enemy. Is he different from the rest?

Can this one see a person in front of him instead of a battered bank vault?

"Has she said anything?" the man asks. The cold expression has tightened his

features again, leaving me to wonder if the image of a sympathetic soul behind

those eyes was nothing more than a desperate hallucination.

"No, sir," a man at the door says.

"How many meals is she given?"

"One per day, sir."

"Make that one every two days," he says, his face becoming a cold sneer.

"Yes, sir," says the man at the door.

"You will find a way to get back the money your mother stole. Or there won't be

anything left of you for anyone to find," he says to me.

His sneer slips and his expression turns soft again. I was wondering when my sanity

would start to disintegrate. I guess it's today.

His face flashes back to perturbed condescension and he turns and exits the room.

The door behind him locks. I feel my mind trying to fly away again. I don't have the

strength to hold it back.

~~~

The next time I feel fully conscious again, the man with the confusing facial

expressions is back. Alone this time. The room is dark, the only light coming from a

dirty, high window on the wall opposite of the door. This makes me nervous. What if

the looks he gave me meant... something else? Something so much worse than

what I've already experienced?

When he walks behind me, my whole body tenses up. This time I'm numb to the

pain, but I can still tell it's there. I struggle not to flail when his voice sounds at the

side of my head, right next to my ear. I can feel his breath on my neck.

"You're Anastasia Clarence, right? The witness who disappeared last spring?"

I'm too confused to respond, but no less terrified of him.

"I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but I promise I'll do everything I can

to get you out of here."

My mind is still too focused on the fear of him hurting me that I don't find this

comforting in the slightest. Being shuttled from one terrifying situation to another is

not a relief. In fact, I think I'd rather stay here. At least here, I know generally what

to expect.

"My name is Benjamin Ramirez." His voice drops even lower, requiring me to

concentrate to make out the words even though he's whispering in my ear. "I'm an

undercover officer with the Phoenix Police Department. I'm going to get you out of

here, but I need your help to do it. The first thing I need you to do is nod if you

understand. Can you do that for me?"

I sit there, frozen. His story is too good to believe. There's no way this is really

happening. This must be some sort of trick these guys are playing to mess with my

head. I won't do it. This place is hell, but at least it's a hell I know. I'm not willing to

risk the untold horrors that this guy might be offering.

"Please, Ana. I need you to nod your head if you understand."

Ana. The name Mama called me. The name Ryan called me. A tear runs down my

cheek. If I stay here, Mama, Julie, Dad, and Ryan will all have died for nothing. If I

stay here, there's nothing I can do for them. I can never get justice for them. With

this guy, at least I'll have a chance. He might turn out to be a fake and this might

just be another sick form of torture, but I won't be able to live with myself if I give

up this chance.

I nod my head, slowly.

"Okay. I'm going to untie you now. I need you to be very still, very quiet, and after I

free your legs you have to stay sitting. If you try to bolt out of here without me,

you're going to get caught and my cover will be blown. Then you'll really be stuck

here. Can you promise to stay still for me?"

I nod again, the sickening feeling that this guy is up to no good still growing within

me. I feel his fingers on my wrist and I feel a creeping sensation spreading across

my skin. My hairs stand on end.

"Your hands are free now. You can slowly bring them in front of you."

His voice in my ear is freaking me out. He should not be this close to me. I want to

wrench away from him, but I can't. I can't move.

Instead, he takes my hands in his and moves them to my lap. The feeling of his

hands on mine makes me want to vomit.

"I'm going to untie your legs next," he says. "Remember, don't move until I tell you

to."

I suppose he thinks this narration of all these actions is somehow comforting, but

it's having the opposite effect. I'm dreading the next words that will come out of his

mouth. He moves to crouch in front of me and I feel the binding around my ankles

loosen.

I'm terrified he's going to ask me to stand next. I don't know if I can do it. In the

darkness, I see him rise and lean close to me. I screw my eyes shut and stiffen

every muscle in my body again as he whispers in my ear: "I'm going to help you

stand now. Can you stand for me?"

I don't move. I wish this were all a nightmare I could wake up from. I can't imagine

the terror I'm about to experience trying to escape this place. I wish I'd never

agreed to this. I can feel panic setting in and I start to gasp shallowly for breath.

This man - I don't remember his name - begins to attempt to calm me down, but I

ignore him and remember that day in the cabin when I had a panic attack and Ryan

helped me through it. Ryan , my heart cries. I miss you so much, Ryan.

You're okay, Ana. Look at me. Even though this took place when he was still hiding

from me, I picture Ryan saying this without the mask. I visualize his blue eyes the

way they looked at me that last day in the cabin when he told me he loved me.

You're okay. You are safe. Breathe in, and out.

With Imaginary Ryan's help, I calm myself enough to hear this other man speaking

to me.

"Please, Ana, please be quiet. I want to help you, but you have to help me. If we get

caught, we're both going to be in a lot of trouble."

Somehow, this manages to capture the logical part of my brain. He seems genuinely

scared at the prospect of getting caught. If this were a masterminded plan to

torture me, would this dude really be this concerned and this patient with me?

I nod to indicate compliance.

"Alright, it's okay," he says. "Can you try to stand for me now?"

I nod again. He places a hand on my shoulder as I rise unsteadily. I grit my teeth at

his touch.

"Now we're going to walk to the door. You're going to stand to the side, out of

sight, and I'll make sure the coast is clear. I'll do my best to tell you what's going on

every step of the way, but I might not be able to do that if people are nearby. I need

you to pay very close attention to me and do everything I tell you to. Can you do that

for me?"

I nod.

"I'm going to do everything I can to get you out of here safe, Ana. Trust me."

That's pushing it.

He helps me walk to the door. I'm more unsteady on my legs than I expected. My

extremities are oddly numb. He has one arm around me to help me stay upright. I'm

still cringing at his touch, but at least I'm not expecting him to turn Mr. Hyde and

hurt me anymore.

At the door, he leaves me alone to rest against the wall and tells me to stay in place

with a hand held out to me. The same hand signal we used to train Casper to stay.

Casper .

I hear a mild scuffle and terror chases away thoughts of my little white dog. I dread

seeing the face that will appear in that doorway next. Please be what's-his-name,

please be what's-his-name!

What's-his-name pokes his head around the corner. "All clear for now. Come with

me."

I walk slowly to him and try not to flinch when his arm comes around me again. He

leads me down hallways, pausing at every corner to check for activity. I'm in a state

of detached panic, only keeping a semblance of sanity by pretending none of this is

actually happening.

When what's-his-name finally opens a door to outside, the warm air is shocking. I

knew I wasn't in Alaska anymore, but I didn't know we were this far south. Or has it

been that long since I was captured?

He leads us to a car and he ushers me into the backseat, instructing me to lie on the

floor of the vehicle and hide under a blanket. Still in a state of numb obedience, I

crawl in without protest. Later as he drives at an unpleasantly fast clip, I begin to

detest him for this. I'm pretty sure I have broken ribs and the floor of this car is

neither soft nor forgiving. I suppose this is better than being stuffed in the trunk.

I don't know where we're going and I don't know what situation I'm going to find

when I get there. I recognize in a detached way that fixating about whatever is

coming next will only harm my tenuous mental state further. I close my eyes and try

to focus on nothingness. Thinking about bad things is too traumatizing. Thinking

about good things is too painful. Thinking about sad things is too heartbreaking. If I

can pretend nothing is happening, convince myself that I don't exist, maybe when I

wake up next, things will be better.