Enslaved by the Ocean Page 44

Eric’s face shifts, and he lifts a hand and runs it through his hair. “You care about him, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Oh…my…God,” he rasps. “You fucking care about the mongrel bastard who was going to sell you! What the hell is wrong with you, Indi?”

“Don’t, Eric.”

“Don’t?” he screams. “Don’t what? Tell you how stupid you are? What the hell possessed you to be so stupid? What could he have possibly done to make you feel anything more than hatred for him?”

“It was probably how he fucked me,” I snarl.

My hands are trembling, and deep down I’m horrified by my words, but right now I have no emotions. I’m just numb.

Eric reels backwards, and a he clasps a hand over his chest. “I knew it!”

“Yeah,” I bark. “I’m sure you did, and you should know, Eric. It was amazing.”

Eric slaps me. His hand lashes out, and connects with my face. I yelp and fall backwards, gripping my face in horror.

“I sat rotting in a fucking cell, and you were off screwing the man who put us in that position?”

“I was trying to save your fucking life!” I scream. “I was doing whatever it took to get us out of there.”

“Only you wanted to fucking do it, so it doesn’t make it a good thing,” he spits.

“Get out,” I rasp. “Get the hell out.”

“With pleasure,” he barks, before turning and storming out of the room.

The door slams, and I fall back onto my bed with a broken sob.

God help me.

Nothing in my life has ever felt worse than how I feel right now.

It makes no sense.

Avast there!

I don’t move from that bed until we stop, not for anything. We dock at the small town on the small island, and I simply follow instructions. Eric doesn’t speak to me as they move us off the ship and onto the dry land. My legs wobble as I follow the officers, two either side of me, into town. Eric is behind me; he’s also under full protection until they can get us home. The idea of going home isn’t as thrilling as I thought it would be. It just feels…empty. Like my life will just never be the same again.

“We will settle you into a hotel room each, letting you get some rest until we can figure out the safest method to get you from the island,” the dark-haired officer from the other night says.

I don’t answer him. Eric doesn’t either.

I just walk.

I do peer around at the small town. It’s old. It looks as though it was built in the early 1900s. The houses and shops are all wooden and showing signs of disarray. The few roads are crappy and need serious work. There is a great deal of older people walking around, and to the left is a massive wharf with hundreds of yachts and ships. I guess its main purpose is for people to dock. I can see a few large warehouses that I would assume are full of supplies.

We walk down a few streets until we reach a motel. It’s old, with faded yellow paint and trees that have seen better days. It’s privacy, though, and I need that. The dark-haired officer walks us into the reception area, where we are greeted by a red-haired lady with glasses. “Hello, how may I help you?”

“I rang earlier, my name is Lyle.”

Lyle.

The red-haired lady turns her eyes to us, and they widen. What? Did Lyle tell her who we are? Does she know we are the people that went missing? How many people know?

“Of course, I have two rooms ready.”

“And where can my officers stand that won’t cause a problem for other guests?”

“Anywhere, it’s not a problem.”

“Thank you,” Lyle says, taking two sets of keys off her.

Like two zombies, Eric and I turn and follow him out. We walk down an old crappy cement path until we meet two doors, both old brown and faded. Lyle unlocks the first one and turns to me. “This is you, Indigo.”

I step into the room, and wrinkle my nose. It’s not very…appealing. There’s an old double bed in the middle of the room. To the left is an office desk and a crappy plastic chair. I can’t see the bathroom, but I guess it’s through the door to the right of the bed. There’s a small drinks fridge, and a microwave, plus a torn leather couch and a tiny box television.

“I know it’s not very nice, but we’re hoping it’s only for a night. Room service is available 24 hours, it’s on us, so order what you like.”

I nod, and turn to him. “Thanks,” I croak.

“We will have a guard at every entrance of the complex for your protection, and here’s my number if you’re ever worried or frightened.”

He hands me a card. I take it, and stare up at him. “I don’t have a phone.”

“There’s one in the room. You can use that any time.”

I nod, and wrap my arms around myself. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” he says, giving me a half-assed smile before turning and exiting the room.

When he’s gone, I walk over to the bed and drop down, wrapping my arms around myself.

I feel empty.

I feel numb.

And I don’t understand it.

I lock my door and don’t communicate with anyone for the rest of the night. I go to bed early, and my exhausted body falls into a deep sleep. When I wake in the morning, I don’t feel any better. Everything inside me still aches. I miss him, and it makes no sense to me. Nothing is comprehendible to me right now, and I hate that I’m longing for someone who has no feelings or care about me, or my life.

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