Thomas’s hand covered my mouth and stopped my words. I closed my lips, swallowing the disgusting taste of grime and sweat.
“Shhh,” he whispered menacingly in my ear as he pulled my back against his front. “You’re going to be a good girl, or we’ll start that punishment right now.”
When he spun me around to face him, I nodded, all the while listening for the sounds I’d heard when others were at the hangar. Even though I didn’t hear anything, I couldn’t let Thomas take me, not if there was a chance I could save myself. His eyes narrowed in warning as he slowly removed his hand from my mouth.
As soon as I was free, I screamed, “Help! Micah! It’s Sara! Please . . .”
My world spun as Thomas’s hand stung my left cheek.
“Shut the fuck up!”
I swallowed, tasting the telltale copper of my own blood. As I fought the dizziness his slap induced, my feet obeyed as he pulled me toward the living quarters. As soon as Thomas opened the door my chest ached with memories of Jacob’s and my past. I needed to leave The Light. I wanted to leave. But no matter the injustices I’d endured, never had Jacob treated me the way Thomas was doing right now.
Thomas shoved me forward. Awkwardly I caught myself and landed in one of the kitchen chairs.
“Sit here. Don’t fucking move.” He rubbed his obviously hardening erection. “I’d love to get a better look at Father Gabriel’s gift, but I don’t know who’s coming out here.” His lips separated into a broad smile, exposing his stained teeth. “And I don’t plan on making this quick. I guess it’ll have to wait until we get to Fairbanks. Don’t you worry, pretty lady, once we’re there we’ll have all the time and privacy we want.”
My stomach knotted. “T-Thomas, I’m going to be sick.”
He pulled me up by my arm and pushed me toward the bathroom. Undoubtedly my arm as well as my face would be bruised.
“Go in there. Don’t make a fucking mess. I’m not losing this job over you.”
I nodded as I rushed to the bathroom and shut the door. There wasn’t a lock.
Shit!
My heart sank.
“I’m getting my stuff from upstairs,” he called through the door. “When you come out, sit where I put you. If you don’t, I’m taking my belt to that pretty little ass.” The sound of his laughter trailed away as his footsteps climbed the stairs.
Looking at the woman in the mirror, I noticed the way my left cheek was already beginning to swell. Though the tips of my fingers lacked feeling, as I pushed on the reddening and slightly purple skin, I felt the tenderness. Shaking my head, I contemplated my options. I could take off running. If I did, I’d need to run back to the community. I’d never survive in the wilderness on my own, with or without polar bears. Even if I made it back to the community and was allowed to live, I feared I’d never get away from the Northern Light.
Better sense—or was it delusional thinking?—told me that this could be my only chance.
My thoughts went to Mindy and the others. If I left with Thomas, there was a possibility of my saving not only myself but also the others. Taking a deep breath, I surrendered to my decision. I opened the bathroom door and scanned the living area.
Conceding to my choices didn’t mean giving in to the man walking upstairs. With the sound of Thomas’s footsteps echoing from above, I rushed to the kitchen and opened a drawer. I peered into its depths, knowing what it contained. Lying side by side were varying knives. I scanned the possibilities; I needed one big enough to do harm, but small enough to be concealed.
When the sound of footsteps stopped, I held my breath. Quickly I turned toward the stairs, but Thomas wasn’t there. When the steps began again above my head, I grabbed a four-inch paring knife and concentrated on Thomas’s footsteps as I quietly shut the drawer. Raising the leg on my jeans, I slipped the knife into my boot, and quickly moved to the table. Counting his steps on the stairs, I sat and tried to calm my breathing. Since I’d been unable to see when Jacob and I first moved to the pole barn, I’d memorized the number of steps. Thomas still had four more before he reached the bottom.
Only my eyes moved as I watched him enter the lower level. He glared in my direction before walking past me to the bathroom. “Good girl,” he called, just before the sound of his urinating echoed through the living quarters.
I scrunched my nose. Gross!
Clenching my teeth, I thought about how much I hated the phrase good girl. It was such a condescending form of praise.