by Dori Lavelle
Alvin returned before the food was gone, but I’d stuffed enough mashed potatoes and gravy into myself to carry me to the next meal. I’d also drunk plenty of water from the pitcher, but not all of it—I had poured some of it into the bathtub for emergencies. Fortunately, since the day he’d tried to drown me in the bath of sea water, Alvin no longer seemed interested in the tub, never even walked over to it.
“Deck time,” he barked.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and went ahead of him. Walking behind him was against the rules.
I was surprised to find it was dark outside. He had never let me out at night before, always taking me out during the day or early evening. By nightfall, I was always back inside my chamber.
Despite little access to food and no freedom, I had somehow come to appreciate my prison. Being locked up meant being safe for a while.
The lights on deck gave the yacht a romantic touch. The water below, though, looked dark and dangerous, the rush of the waves transported on the wind.
I grabbed on to the railing with one hand and glanced at Alvin. No newspaper in his hands this time. He stared at the screen of a sleek MacBook.
The hair on the back of my neck didn’t stand on end today. I wasn’t being watched. Something about the way he moved and held himself felt different.
He was preoccupied, typing away. I had learned to assess his moods, yet another survival mechanism. Who was he communicating with? Someone from home?
After a while, his phone rang and he stood. Even from a distance I saw the tension in his features. Something was troubling him.
I continued stretching and walking around the deck, trying to get closer, to catch snippets of conversation. But he took his phone conversation to the far end of the deck, his back turned to me.
What could I do while he was not watching? Jumping overboard into the inky water was, of course, not an option. The thought of suicide had crossed my mind on several occasions, but I was too much of a coward.
I neared the bridge of the yacht. Jim saw me approach and turned his head to the small window in the glass that enclosed the bridge cabin. I walked over to the window nonchalantly, using my body language to alert Jim that I wanted to talk. He didn’t react. I started the conversation anyway.
“How do you do it?” I asked. “How are you able to watch him torture me and not do anything?”
He shrugged and answered, “I’m doing my job.”
The reply was disappointing, but also encouraging. We had struck up a conversation. Maybe with time, our talks would increase. I had to build on it, one word at a time.
When you’re left with nothing more than a few words at your disposal, you tell the truth. “I need your help. He’s going to kill me.”
“Nothing I can do, Chloe.”
Chloe.
He’d called me by my name. He must know something about me.
Could it be that someone had reported me missing and he’d seen my photo and name? Unlike me, he could roam around freely.
My sudden excitement crashed. Of course Jim knew my name. He had officiated our wedding. But somehow, by referring to me by name, he had shortened the distance between us. I only needed to figure out his motives. There was no one but him to reach out to. As captain of the ship, he had to know where we were headed.
“Jim, I want to escape. I want to get off this yacht. Help me, please?” My lips barely moved as I spoke. As I pleaded with him, I continued stretching, pretending to be exercising.
From the corner of my eye, I glanced at Alvin, on alert in case he ended his call. And he had. He now gazed at the phone while he strode toward where I stood.
“Please,” I begged Jim, before Alvin shifted his attention from his phone. Frustrated tears threatened to fall.
“Sorry,” Jim said, “helping you is not my job.”
I nodded and turned away, hands curled so tight my nails dug into my palms.
Chapter Eleven
My stomach tightened, and goosebumps flared across my skin. The sound of the key turning in the lock did that to me every time.
Click. Click.
I sat up, leaned against the cool wall. Alarm bells screamed inside my head.
Something couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be back. Not yet. It couldn’t have been an hour since the yacht had entered an island port, and he’d locked me up. Whenever we reached a port, hours passed before I saw him again. I figured he enjoyed his time off the yacht, stretching his legs and buying supplies for the next horror trip.
Not only was he back early, he didn’t burst in as he normally did. The doorknob turned slowly as though he wanted to sneak in.
I pressed my back deeper into the wall, waiting, dreading. The door opened with a soft sigh.
Whispers entered the room before he did. Who was he talking to? He never brought anyone with him to the dungeon.
The door widened. Two figures filled the doorway—strangers—a man and a woman. They had to be somewhere in their thirties. The woman was at least two heads taller than the man, with raven hair wrapped in a goddess braid around her head, and huge dark eyes. She wore dirty jeans with holes at the knees, and a black tank top. The stoop-shouldered man with a goatee carried a backpack, the kind one would see on the backs of mountain climbers.
My gaze slid to their feet. No shoes.
Who are these people?
The sudden silence that crackled in the air told me they had not expected to find me in the room.
I unglued my tongue from the top of my mouth and parted my cracked lips. “What—”
“We not take anything,” the woman said, cutting me off. “We go now.” She caught the man’s thick arm, attempted to pull him out of the room. He didn’t budge. Her wild eyes turned to him but his gaze didn’t leave me. She said something to him in a language that sounded like Dutch. I couldn’t be sure as the sound of my heart thudding drowned out most sounds.
The man tore his eyes from me, and turned on her. For a split second my heart clenched when I thought he was going to hit her. He raised his hand, but let it drop before it struck. But his words were just as rock-hard as a fist would have been. Despite her height, I watched her shrink as he berated her.
“Who… who are you?”
Instead of answering my question, the man pulled a pen knife from his pocket, flicked it open. He started to back out of the doorway.
Why would he feel a broken woman like me was a threat?
They were leaving. No, I couldn’t let it happen.
I crawled off the mattress, and stood, praying my legs would not let me down. “Please, wait. Don’t go.” The woman’s words rang inside my ears.
We not take anything. We go now.
The part of my brain responsible for understanding, clicked. The people standing in front of me where thieves. They must have seen Alvin get off the yacht, possibly accompanied by Jim, and decided not to let the opportunity pass them by.
I would not let them leave without helping me. They could be my one shot at an escape.
“Stay away. I’m warning you.” The man jerked his knife at me, but I looked beyond it, reached for the woman’s eyes, prayed the torment in mine would touch her.
She blinked, her thick lashes resting on her cheeks for a moment. Before our eyes met again, the door slammed shut.
Click. Click.
Panic rioted inside me as I threw myself at the door, hitting it with my fists, clawing at it with my nails. “Please, let me out.”
I pressed my ear to the door, listening for the sound of the steps retreating. Nothing. They had not left.
My chance had not slipped out of my hands yet. “I’ll give you anything. Whatever you want. I have money. I have jewelry... diamonds.”
The door swung open, and the first thing I saw was the knife. I jumped back before the man could plunge it into my stomach. Then I lifted my t-shirt quickly, showing them the bruises.
The woman, who now stood behind him, ran her gaze up and down my stomach.
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br /> “The owner of this yacht…he did this to me.” I tried but failed to keep my voice from shaking. “He plans to kill me.”
The woman’s mouth dropped open, then she bent to whisper something into the man’s ears.
My t-shirt fell back into place. I’d shown them proof of my abuse. They had to be here for a reason. They would help me. If they let me out of the dungeon, I’d keep my promise.
“I have an engagement ring worth thousands of dollars,” I said, making their decision easier. “It’s yours if you want it.” I was prepared to give them anything. I’d give them the clothes on my back and run for my life naked, if I had to.
Stars blinked in the man’s eyes when he looked at me, already seeing dollar bills. “What do you want in return?” His English was much more fluent than that of the woman, and I was glad. Communicating with him would be so much easier.
“Let me out of this yacht, show me a safe place where I can hide.”
“That’s it?”
I nodded.
“Fine. If you don’t keep your promise, your friend will not be the one killing you. I will.”
The next thing I knew, his arm was around my neck, the blade of the knife cooling my skin. Of course, he wouldn’t trust me until he saw the diamonds.
“You can trust me,” I said between gritted teeth. “I’ll show you where the jewelry is.” A sliver of fear trickled down my spine, but my voice was firm, hiding my fear. The fear of Alvin showing up before I escaped.
As the man dragged me through the corridors like a sack of potatoes, the knife did not leave my neck. Every second I feared it would slice into my flesh.
We reached Alvin’s room, and my stomach churned with anxiety as I touched the doorknob. I turned it. Locked.
“Open it.” The man pressed his head to mine, hissed into the shell of my ear.
“I’m sorry.” My voice trembled inside my throat. “I don’t know where the key is. Please, let me go. I’ll search for it.”
“You sure the diamonds are in there?”
I nodded, chewing the inside of my mouth.
He mumbled something under his breath and shoved me aside. I almost stumbled into the woman.
The man put away the knife and fished a piece of coiled wire from his pocket. He straightened it, then lowered himself to the level of the doorknob.
Within a few seconds, I heard a click. The door swung open.
My whole body went slack with relief when I found my suitcase at the same place I’d left it. Without wasting time, I dropped to my knees in front of it and started to grab things. The first thing to go, was the engagement ring, as promised.
“Fuck, this is the real thing.” The man held it up to the light, beaming.
I placed a small velvet bag with more jewelry into the woman’s hands. She opened it so fast, a ruby bracelet fell out.
While they gawked at their new treasures, I turned my back to them and managed to sneak a couple of notes and my passport into the pockets of my jeans.
I jumped when a hand wrapped around my shoulder and pushed me aside.
“What else do you have in there?” the man asked, already tearing into the suitcase. The woman joined him. She picked out clothes and pulled them over the clothes she already wore. The man emptied my purse on the floor and greedily picked up anything that looked to be of value.
“Do you have anything else for us?” he asked.
I scramble to my feet, wringing my hands. “Everything I own is in there.” I pointed to the suitcase. “But you can look around the boat. Take whatever you want…anything.” I took a step back from him. “I have to go. I need to leave before he gets back. Please.”
“Fine.” The man waved me away with a hand, as though I had become a nuisance. “Go with my sister. She’ll take you to our shop. You’ll be safe there.”
“Yes,” the woman said as she stuffed the jewelry into her pockets. Then she draped an arm around my shoulders. “We go now. I take good care of you.”
“We go now.” I repeated.
Chapter Twelve
The woman’s hand still clutched my shoulders as we made our way down the corridors. She led me as though she knew the place better than I did.
Every step was torture and heaven at the same time. I could be walking toward my freedom, or I could be walking toward Alvin. Fear moved in waves through my body, ebbing and flowing, gripping and releasing me.
“Is okay,” the woman said, pulling me up the stairs, urging me to keep moving. “Bad man is at market.”
Maybe he was, but how long would he be away? What if he sensed something was wrong and came back earlier than planned?
I pushed hard, forcing my body to work with me. An opportunity like this might never come again.
I pulled myself together, swept my fears aside, and focused on getting myself to safety.
Up on deck, the sun was already low in the sky. It would be evening soon. I’d not spend another night on Alvin’s yacht.
The sounds of life injected me with life—people talking, laughing, and bargaining at the open market not too far from where the yacht was parked.
I squinted as I peered at the sea of faces belonging to tourists and locals. They were too far for me to see which belonged to Alvin.
“Hurry.” my new friend released my arm. “I go down first. You follow, okay?”
“Okay.” A lump slid down my throat as I swallowed my fear. As the woman climbed over the railing with ease, I lowered my gaze to the water, followed her descent into a small boat with seaweed clinging to the sides. One of many boats, bobbing on the water. Most of them unoccupied.
A man with a beer belly, at the back of one of the boats—catching the last rays of the sun—turned to glance at us for a moment before closing his eyes again.
As soon as the woman’s feet touched the boat, I followed. I should have been afraid as I had never climbed down a ladder at the side of a boat before, but fear of falling couldn’t match the fear of Alvin. My body shook so hard the ladder swayed from side to side. But finally, I reached the bottom and the woman helped lower me into the boat that would rescue me.
You’re out. You’re safe.
I was wrong to think we’d row to the edge of the water in the boat. The woman didn’t even warn me before diving into the water. She probably wanted to leave the boat behind for her brother.
I looked up at Alvin’s yacht. Was he up there, looking down at me?
No sign of him.
I moved to the edge of the boat and jumped to my freedom. The water swallowed me, shocking me with its cold hands, pulling me under, forcing itself into my mouth. I fought against it, swinging my arms and kicking my legs and feet. I won.
I sliced the surface, and swam to the woman. She was already pulling herself out of the water. Hopefully she wouldn’t change her mind and leave me behind. She didn’t.
I found her checking her pockets to make sure the jewelry was still there.
She hauled me out of the water. I slumped forward, gasping and coughing. Then I straightened up, swept my hair out of my eyes, and wiped the salt from my lips.
“Let’s go,” I said. I didn’t care that I was dripping wet. I didn’t care that my lungs burned. I cared that I was alive.
She held my arm as we allowed the crowds to engulf us. Shops stretched out ahead, selling everything imaginable—handmade children’s toys, fast food, fruits and vegetables, souvenirs, leather shoes, and even Christmas trees. I would have smiled if I weren’t running for my life.
A man threw me a curse when my wet clothes licked him. I ignored him, just as I ignored the vendors calling for me to stop and buy their wares.
At some point, the woman pulled me behind an ice cream truck and draped a wet scarf over my head, tying it under my chin.
“Now you hide good.”
Chapter Thirteen
We wandered down several alleys, leading off the main street of what I now knew to be a cruise port in Haiti— from reading the shop signs. After
being left in the dark for so long, knowing where I was in the world gave me much needed relief.
My clothes had stopped dripping, but my body shivered. Not from the cold, but from the icy bite of dread that clawed through me. I had distanced myself from Alvin, but I still carried him inside my heart. His voice continued to thunder in my ears. As long as he was in the same port, I was still unsafe.
We passed a nail salon, a souvenir shop, a bookstore, and a few restaurants. Finally, the woman took hold of my arm.
“Stop.” She tipped her head in the direction of a small ice cream shop tucked between a sushi restaurant and a flower shop.
The front was a series of small, square windows with baby blue frames. Metal blinds shut the windows’ eyes so outsiders could not see inside. A metal banner hung above, the name Miera’s Ice printed on it in black letters. A sign leaned against the wall nearest to the door, enticing passers-by with a photo of two ice creams—chocolate and strawberry. Only, something about the shop looked dead, as though it were out of business.
When the key in the lock clicked and the door squeaked open, the knot in my gut unraveled, but not completely.
The danger that was Alvin still hovered over my head like a storm cloud waiting to pour down its fury.
I hit my knee against a standing lamp as I tried to find a spot among the junk that crammed up the closet of a shop. My guess, rather than it being an actual ice cream shop, it was a storage for hiding the goods they stole, until they sold them later at another location.
As soon as the woman closed the door, and switched on a lamp, I turned to her, reached for her hands.
“Thank you. I’ll never forget your kindness.” I breathed in the overwhelming smell of incense. “My name is Chloe. Are you Miera? This is your shop?” Knowing her name would establish a personal connection between us.
“Miera, yes.” A small smile fluttered on her lips.
“Miera, do you have a phone I can use? I need to call someone. Can you help me?”
She shook her head and started peeling the damp clothes from her body, hanging them on a chair to dry. “You wait here. You hide. My brother has phone. You can use it. He come soon, okay?”