The cost of vengeance
Page 12
For the longest time, they would come in here everyday and spend hours asking me about some papers that they say I’d read. I kept telling them that I only had a chance to glance at them before the man came back to get them. Back then, I used to hope that they would realize that I didn’t know anything and let me go. I would spend all day in this room, chained to the bed. They let me get up twice a day to eat and use the bathroom, then they’d chain me to the bed and leave.
Then one day, instead of chaining me to the bed after I ate, they just walked out and left the door open. I got up and followed them out of the house. I hadn’t been outside in so long, that it took a while for my eyes to adjust to the sun. By the time my eyes focused, they were on a speedboat and they’d left me there.
After that, I began walking. I didn’t know where I was exactly, but I had always thought I was in Freeport. I would eventually get to someplace or find somebody to help me. So I walked. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was on a very small island and there was nothing there but that one house. So I went back to the house, thinking that they had finally realized that I had no idea what they were talking about, and they had no further use for me. They had left me there to die. That’s when I saw the stack of books on the table in the kitchen. I went to the refrigerator and found it full of food. “At least I won’t starve to death,” I said to know one. I didn’t know if they would be back, so I resolved to make the food last.
I spend my days walking the island, thinking about the life I once had and my family, and reading the books they had left for me. When the food was running low, I began thinking that I would have to start surviving on coconuts like Robinson Crusoe. I woke up the next morning and found the refrigerator had been restocked, and a fresh supply of books had been left me for while I slept.
At this point, after all this time, I’ve accepted my fate. Alone on this island, cut off from the world I used to know. Separated from my family. It was bearable when they first took me, because some woman would come to see me and she would bring my baby with her. But that ended the first time she called me momma. After that she stopped coming. That made sense though. Once she started talking, she would surely tell her father and he would come rescue me, like he always does.
But he’s not looking for me-because he thinks I’m dead.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-2f5eea-1753-9546-92a5-475c-2b30-1557e0
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 22.01.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.34, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Glenn, Roy
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