Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Do I have your guarantee that we’ll be safe out here?” I ask the guard who escorts us.
“Absolutely. Do you think we’d let these derelicts out here if we couldn’t guarantee your safety?”
“Man, I just don’t know.” I case the room quickly.
Guards are stationed throughout the perimeter, and some inmates are already in the room, talking to their visitors at tables like the one we’re sitting at.
“We’ll be fine, Buck.” Aspen takes a seat.
Strength emanates from her. I know she’s scared, and I know she’s worried, but you could never tell it by looking at her.
She’s so amazing.
“The inmate will be out in a few moments. His hands and his feet will be bound. And even though no weapons are allowed in prison, he will have been thoroughly searched—and I mean thoroughly—before he’s allowed in this room.”
“Good.” I take the seat next to Aspen. “Thank you very much for all your help.”
“Absolutely. I’ll go retrieve the inmate.”
The guard—his name tag says Buckley—leaves then, exiting through a door after he slides a card through a lock.
Aspen bites on her lower lip.
“You okay?”
She nods. “I am. I just have so many questions.”
“I understand. But I don’t want you to be upset if you don’t get any answers from this guy. Or if the answers you get are lies.”
“I know. I’ve thought of all of that.”
“Okay.”
The door opens. I look up, but Aspen looks down at the table.
Buckley returns with an oddly pale man. “Here you are. These are the people who want to talk to you, Albino.”
“Albino?” I say.
“Sorry. Wallace. This is Greg Wallace.”
Aspen looks up.
And then she gasps.
“You?”
34
ASPEN
He smiles.
The man smiles.
One of his front teeth is missing.
It wasn’t missing that day on the island. That day when he bit my nipple off my breast.
The pain comes searing back into my reality.
I close my eyes, swallow. Try to remain strong.
But time moves backward, backward, backward…
And I’m there, on the island, with him ordering me to get up and run. I remember.
I remember it all.
“Fucking bitch,” he says, his pasty body covering mine. “You will get up, and you will run.” He pulls me up, forces me into a standing position.
I let my legs buckle beneath me. “No. I’m done running from you.”
He pulls me up again, gives me a push. Instinctually, I land on my feet. But then I drop to the ground.
He pulls me up again. I lose count of how many times he persists, while he slaps and punches me in between.
But I feel no pain.
I have decided. I will not give this man what he wants.
If I die here? So be it.
I know I won’t die. Not if this man wants to come back to the island.
“Fine, bitch. We’ll do it your way. But you’ll be fucking sorry.” He pulls on my left foot, twists my ankle.
I cry out in pain.
“You might want to save your voice, bitch. I’m just getting started.” He curls both of his hands into fists then and punches my stomach—
I groan, trying to catch my breath.
But the wind has been punched out of me.
I’ve been punched before though, many times. Not just on the island, but on the volleyball court, by a rogue ball.
I can take this.
I can take it all.
He punches my jaw next, and the pain radiates through my skull.
Then my cheek, and my eye.
I’ll have a black eye, but it won’t be the first time. I’ve had a black eye from a volleyball too. And also on this island many times.
He’s far from done, though. He’s angry. Angry that I’m not letting him chase me.
Angry that I’m not playing the game by his rules.
A feeling of peace settles over me.
Oh, I’m still in pain. Probably more pain than I’ve ever been in my life, but I’m exerting my will. For the first time since I came onto this island, I’m exerting my will.
And though I may end up black and blue because of it, at least I’m not giving this asshole what he wants.
I take punch after punch to every part of my body.
Punch after punch after punch, and yes, I yell. Yes, I scream. Yes, I groan, but the peace never wavers. The peace. The knowledge that he’s not getting his way.
Until—
Crack!
A searing pain so terrible and forceful that I cry out, my eyes closed.
Death is surely coming for me now.
It’s my left leg, the lower part. He hit me with something hard—a rock, a log…I don’t know, but there’s no way he could have done this bare handed.
The bones. My bones.
The cracking of my bones.
That’s the sound I just heard.
And I don’t think I’ll live through this.
“Take that, fucking cunt. Now you’ll never run again.”
My eyes are still closed, but then another searing pain.
And then liquid trickling over my right breast.
Blood. Must be blood.
I don’t know what he’s done, but my God, the pain.