Shame, failure, and regret spiral so fast I feel dizzy.
"Hey. Shhh." Dirk pushes my face into the curve of his neck and caresses my head.
"Don't give me any drugs. Please," I sob.
"Shhh."
"I can't...don't..." I choke, trying to get air.
"Shhh. Okay."
When I stop crying, I apologize and begin the process all over again.
Dirk keeps comforting me and telling me it will be okay, but I don't believe him. It will never be okay. I'll always be property of the Global Leaders, and there is nothing he or anyone else can do about it. They always win, and eventually, they will find me.
"Tell me what this is about."
"No. I can't."
"Zoe, whoever is out to hurt you, I will go after. Tell me."
"No. They will kill you."
"They won't. Tell me."
"Please stop asking. I won't. I can't."
He takes a deep breath. "Okay. I'll stop for now. Will you tell me why you don't want me to give you something for your injuries? Malin sprayed your leg last night, and you seemed okay with that."
You have to tell him now.
My stomach flips.
"I read the bottle. It didn't have anything addictive, or for pain, it was just to stop an infection."
He furrows his brows. "Did you have a problem with drugs or alcohol?"
New tears fall. "Not until they made me a coke addict."
"Who?"
"I can't tell you. Please."
He holds me against him again and kisses my head. "Okay."
I lean back. "Can you not tell anyone? Please? No one except Penelope and Julieta knows."
He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. "No one will know because of me. You have my word."
I sniffle a few times. "Thank you."
"Thank you for telling me."
"I never wanted any part of it. It wasn't anything I ever even contemplated. But now..." More tears fall. Embarrassment is an understatement, and I can't even look at him.
"Shhh. It's okay."
"It's not."
"You're clean. That's a big achievement. You should be proud of yourself."
I still don't look at him.
"How long have you been sober?"
I turn to him. "I...I don't know. How long have I been gone?"
"You don't know how long you've been missing?"
"No."
"Fourteen months."
Fourteen months. That's over a year.
"It's probably been thirteen or thirteen and a half months."
"That's amazing. I'm proud of you."
"You wouldn't have been."
"What do you mean?"
More tears of shame fall. "I had to detox twice in the same month."
"Okay. But you did it."
"No, you don't understand what he did to me."
"Who?"
"Santiago."
His face hardens. "What did he do?"
"I don't want to talk about it. Can we not?"
He sighs. "Okay."
“What country am I in? I don’t even know.”
“Belize.”
I glance around. "I better wash up."
"All right. When we get out, can I at least spray your bites? I’ll use what Malin put on your leg last night."
Slowly, I agree.
"Don't go any deeper. I'll grab the toiletries." He kisses my forehead and grabs it off the rock.
We finish bathing, and he washes the muddy T-shirt as much as possible. He grabs his first aid kit out of the rucksack and has me stand near the rock. He dries me off with the towel, sprays my wounds, then puts a dry T-shirt from his bag over my head.
I let him change his underwear to dry ones then turn. "Thank you." I reach out and hold the pendant on his necklace. "What is this?"
"The rattle from the first snake I killed."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"Are you an outdoorsy guy?"
He arches an eyebrow. "Yeah. What made you ask that?"
"There are guys I know who consider it a sport to hunt snakes."
"Me too."
"So, you're a snake hunter?"
"If you want to label it, but I would broaden it to just hunter."
"What do you hunt?"
His eyes darken. "Anything that needs to be."
Silence.
"Are you ready to go back?" he asks.
"Sure."
He puts his other clothes and boots on. After he slings his backpack over his shoulder, he holds my shoes by the back straps. "Hang on to these for a minute."
I do as he asks.
He scoops me up in his arms. "Let's not give the leeches anymore of you today."
6
Zoe
Thirteen Months Prior
Ten days pass. I fight my demons of addiction, cold turkey. The entire time, I obsess over how to get my hands on some cocaine or kill myself.
Penelope is the only person in the room except when they bring food or make her leave.
My withdrawal symptoms create the most pain I've ever experienced and cycle through intense and tolerable all day and night.
Penelope has become my crutch, and when the man comes to take her away, the mental battle begins.