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Take Me Home

Mila

“We’re in New York.”

My stomach turned. I felt dizzy. It was all too much to take in. I had been knocked out for long enough for them to bring me to New York all the way from Portland. Even if the whole city had been searching for me, they wouldn’t have been able to find me.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” I said. I felt like I was going to cry again.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” Ben said. He kept calling me that. “Let me take care of it.”

A police officer came to talk to us. He asked me questions, and I told him everything I remembered. Afterward, Ben talked to him and gave him names. When he said things like “mafia” and owed debts, I felt dizzy. Who was this man? Why did I feel like I didn’t know him at all?

“Come, Mila,” Ben said, using my name again for the first time since he’d found me in the basement. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to go.”

“Sweetheart, your cheek needs to be looked at.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to stay overnight or an
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