much?
“Are you okay?” a soft voice asks from behind me, encouraging me as I shuffle across the ground and push myself against the cold wall. It takes a moment for me to wipe my eyes and see him.
He’s just a boy.
His knees are knobby and he’s thin, but his shoulders are broad and he has a look about him that lets me know he’s older than me. There’s another look about him, too.
Sorrow and sadness cloud his eyes. Or maybe I just imagined it, because the moment my vision focuses, a hard expression stares back at me. He doesn’t move from where he is, crouching only a few feet from me.
“Where am I?” I ask him quickly. I don’t know where the words come from. I feel hot and cold, and I’m so confused. “I want to leave.”
He huffs and shakes his head at me, pushing himself up from the ground where he was and takes a step toward me. He’s taller than me. In that moment, he scares me.
“You can’t leave,” he says simply.
My face crumples, and I shake my head. “My mother will-”
“We’re stuck here!” he yells at me, the anger in his voice making me flinch. He stares at the wall behind me, his eyes flickering to the floor then back to me. “We can’t leave.”
As I start to protest, I hear a loud rough bark outside. It’s followed by a series of vicious barks that continue over and over. I whirl around and face the only window. It’s small and rectangular, covered in filth and high up on the wall. There’s barely any light coming through. Maybe there’s a bush planted in front of it. I’m not sure, but at the very least I know there are dogs close.
“Don’t try to run,” the boy says behind me and again I turn to face him. Threats all around me, and it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. So stupid! I wrap my arms around my shoulders. “My mother-”
“Stop.” The boy gives me the command, and I do. I stop because I’m a good girl. I’ve always been a good girl, but look at where it’s gotten me.
It’s quiet for a while, and the boy takes another step closer to me. I don’t move. I don’t know what to do or where I am, but deep down inside I know this boy isn’t going to hurt me. There’s something about him. Something broken and scared and angry even, but it’s pure.
“What’s going to happen to us?” I ask him weakly.
“He won’t touch you. It’s not about you.”
“What?” I don’t understand. I’m so confused.
“He’s using you.” He looks past me, anger evident as he clenches his jaw. “It’s about making me do what he wants. He knows I won’t...” his voice drifts off, and the anger changes into something else. Something I can’t see because he turns his back to me.
I reach out to him, grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving me, moving purely out of instinct. The touch feels like a spark. As if I’ve put my hand to a flame, but before I can even process it, he whips back around to face me, a scowl of anger on his face as he stares at me. “I won’t let him hurt you like he does me. All you are is a tool for him to use against me.”
He takes another step closer to me, and for the first time I really get a good look in his eyes. The intensity almost makes me scoot back, but then I’d be against the wall. Trapped and cornered.
He parts his lips to answer me, but no words come out. Time passes, and the only thing I can hear is my heartbeat as he stares at me. His eyes don’t break from mine, and I’m too scared to look away.
“I’m sorry,” he says flatly, but then he turns away as if the sentiment were genuine.
For some reason, just hearing those words breaks me. The tears fall and as I wipe them away, he looks at me with distaste. I half expect him to tell me to stop, but he doesn’t.
I struggle to calm myself and somehow I do. Maybe it’s because I don’t really believe him. I don’t believe it’s hopeless. My mother will find me, and she’ll make that man pay for what he’s done. Both to me and to this boy. I know she will.
“What’s your name?” I ask to keep him from leaving me as he