I paced around the room, my steps not as stable as I would’ve liked. I was sore. Both from all of the fighting I’d been doing as of late and because of the repercussions of those actions. They seemed to have finally gotten the hint, though. I hadn’t been forced to give up my body to some sex-crazed, devilish man in quite some time. 

Pigs. Utter pigs living a life they didn’t deserve. A life I planned to eventually take away from them but I had no idea how. They’d stolen not only my life but the lives of my parents as well. For every second I remained in that rustic cabin I believed they deserved double that time in excruciating pain. There was a price for the afflictions thrust upon me and countless other poor girls and boys.

They were smart to a certain degree. They knew not to underestimate me just because I was young or because I was a girl. They knew not to underestimate me just because I was thin, far too physically weak, and could barely walk without an obvious limp. They knew just the same as I did that when someone has enough pent-up anger combined with the dangerous feeling of having nothing to lose, they become powerful. No matter who they were. No matter what they previously stood for.

I moved to stand in front of the window, looking out into the beaming light with a small smile. The sun was so bright and beautiful; so freeing. I wished I could feel those warm rays upon my skin directly. I wished I could feel the crunching of fall’s leaves beneath my feet. I wished I could feel the wind ruffling my wild, kinky locks of hair.

But most of all, I wished to feel liquid running down my hands only to drop to the floor leaving splotches of red on the tainted carpet. I wished to smell that irony tang the liquid effused. I wished to see the look of pure shock on those men’s faces as they gripped their throats in pure agony before collapsing into a pool of their own blood. Blood that I had drawn with a single, sharp blade within a defiled hand.

I wished for all of it.

I twisted around with heated eyes in the direction of the door when the familiar creak of it being opened brought me out of my thoughts. I wasn’t sure whether I should have been relieved or just as annoyed as one of the mistresses I’d become so accustomed to entered the room. 

At first, she just stood there, her gaze pointed at the wooden floors beneath her, her hands folded in front of her, and her chin-length, brunette locks shielding her features from clear view. Her soft pink dress danced around her ankles a bit at the soft breeze of air that whirled in time with the spinning fan above us. 

“Angelica,” I whispered, my heart picking up momentum inside my suddenly aching chest. “What do you want?”

She finally looked up to meet my gaze with eyes that resembled roasted cinnamon and honey when light reflected across them. “I only wanted to see you. I hope that’s alright.”

“It’s not,” I managed to bite out. “I don’t want you here.”

“Surely you don’t mean that,” she said, her voice deep and smooth but as soft of silk as she took another step towards me.

And that was precisely why I wanted Angelica gone so badly. The girl was a walking headache in my eyes. I hated the confusion that came with our conversations. I hated the way my heart seemed to want to beat out of my chest whenever the girl ventured near. Most of all, I hated the fact that I couldn’t understand any of it. 

Lost in my thoughts as I was, I didn’t notice Angelica’s presence behind me until I felt the girl’s fingers raking through my entwined and entangled locks. I leaned my head back as the girl gently worked to remove any of the tangles her fingers got caught on.

Always so gentle.

One of Angelica’s hands fell to my waist, her other hand following suit a moment later, and she pulled me into a soft embrace. I leaned my head back on Angelica’s shoulder and sighed. 

“I hate the things you do,” I said with conviction. “They make me feel gross.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Angelica replied. “I only want you to feel safe and sound. Like a sheep.”

“Why?”

“I want you to stay here,” Angelica whispered, her breath fanning against my neck. It was like the whispers of a bird’s feathers. “I don’t want you to go without me. I know you’re planning to.”

“I’m going to kill them, you know? Atticus and Delaney are going to die by my hand, and what will you do?”

“I will help you clean up,” Angelina promised. “Then you won’t have to leave without me. We can leave together.”

“Then, will you take me to see the ocean like you always promised?”

“Of course I will. We can bathe in the waves and clean away the dirt and blood.”

“Together?”

“Together.”