“He’s the son of that—that horrible man, so he is most definitely the enemy,” Mom said with a nod of finality. One that read over my dead body will I let you see that boy.
“I just want to thank him,” I said again. I sank my head into the pillow, closing my eyes. No one really listened to me when it came to Will. They wouldn’t tell me what they were thinking, but I figured them out. They hated him. The police. My parents. The detectives and the doctors and the nurses—I could tell by the way they all exchanged knowing glances when I brought up his name. They believed he had something to do with this. It was like they wanted me to confess that he hit me and raped me, too, even though I denied it over and over.
They didn’t care. They wouldn’t listen.
“He didn’t help his father,” I told Mom, speaking to her back. She stared at the doorway, wringing her hands in her lap. “He helped me. He saved me. The only reason we’re together right now is because of him. Because of Will.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes clouded with worry. “You’re confused, darling. Please, just . . . stop talking about him. He’s not worth your time or energy. The cops say that he’s been in trouble before but they can’t say how because he’s a juvenile. He’s no good. You need to forget he even exists.”
I couldn’t give her what she wanted. “But I can’t forget that he exists. He’s the reason I’m alive.” My entire body ached. My arms, my legs, my back, my throat, between my legs . . . it all hurt so bad and I didn’t know how it could be fixed. Time, the doctor had told me. The bruises would eventually fade. The sprained wrist would soon be as good as new. The broken ribs would heal.
Would my broken heart ever heal? I wanted to ask but I remained quiet. I’m pretty positive he wouldn’t have the answer.
“You’re alive because of you,” she said, turning to face me once more. “You’re a survivor. No one helped you. You did it all yourself.”
Was my mother delusional? She hadn’t been there, I had. And Will Monroe was the one who got me out of that storage shed, no one else.
“Mom, you sound crazy,” I whispered, and she glared at me. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. The cops said it, too—Will was the one who saved me.”
Her gaze flickered, like she couldn’t stand the fact that I would even dare say his name. “Then write him a letter,” she suggested, as if that were the perfect solution. “Write him a nice letter and thank him for all that he did for you. That should suffice.”
“I don’t know his address.” A letter wouldn’t be enough to express my gratitude. I couldn’t come up with the words to tell him how much it meant, what he did for me. It wasn’t just about me thanking him, either—I needed the connection with Will. He was the only person in this entire world who knew what I went through. He understood what happened. He saw me at my worst, in stained, old clothes, chained to a wall, lying on a filthy mattress after I’d been beaten. And still he took care of me.
“Someone will know,” she said as her head swiveled toward the doorway again. But the men in suits were gone. Good.
“No, I don’t think they will. I think they’re going to put him in foster care, since his—father is missing and his mom isn’t around.” My mother looked shocked that I knew so much about Will, but she couldn’t understand. People bonded when they spent time together trying to survive.
“Katie, you’re being difficult.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Send the letter to the police station. I’m sure they’ll forward it on to him.”
“It’s silly to have a letter forwarded to him when he’s probably in this hospital right now, getting checked out, like me.” I leaned forward. The sudden movement made my head swim, and I lay back against the pillow carefully. “I don’t want to send him a letter, Mom, I want to see him. I want to talk to him. Just for a few minutes. Do you know if he’s here? Are they keeping him like they’re keeping me?”
“He’s not in the hospital. He wasn’t even hurt,” Mom sniffed. Like this was some sort of contest and I took first prize for the ugliest wounds. “They were holding him at the police station, but they’ve probably already let him go. For all we know he could be in jail. They might’ve found out some information we don’t know about.”
Dread trickled ice cold down my spine. No way would they put him in jail. He was just a kid. He didn’t do anything wrong. “Ask the detectives over there. I bet they know where he is.” I waved my hand to try to get their attention and Mom lunged from her chair, pinning my arm to the hospital bed, her face in mine. I reared back, startled by her reaction, uncomfortable with her closeness. My heart was racing as I blinked up at her.