Really? Like he gives a shit.
My entire body chilled as I stepped out of the opulence and into a cold, dreary world. As if she could sense my apprehension, Sara’s body shivered in my grasp, and her sad blue eyes peered up toward mine. I didn’t want Richards to see, but in our brief gaze I tried to convey as much as I could. I tried to tell her I loved her, I’d move heaven and hell to get back to her, and I didn’t want to do this.
Step by step, down into the underbelly of the mansion we went. The length of the staircase told me that this was more than the lower level—it was a subbasement. Even the temperature dropped as we continued down. When we neared the bottom, the wall to my right ended, and I stood in disgust at where we were, at what I saw. Unpainted concrete blocks created thick walls, while instead of crystal lighting fixtures, as I’d seen upstairs, naked lightbulbs hung from the ceiling. The room was nothing more than an unfinished cement box—even the floor was smooth, cold cement.
The permeating odor of disinfectant stung my lungs and reminded me of the clinic at the Northern Light. When I looked up to the ceiling there were exposed wooden beams with thick insulation stapled in between.
I didn’t want to think about its purpose. Was it to keep the cold from the floor above or sound?
The only furniture in the room was four worn couches, appearing as if they belonged in a fraternity house or a garage sale, not a multi-million-dollar mansion. Four doors interrupted the concrete block. The first one was open, and I stopped, glancing inside. The room reminded me of barracks I’d inhabited, but more cramped. In a space I doubted was bigger than ten feet by ten feet were three sets of bunk beds with thin mattresses. As in an army barracks, each bed was made, the sheets perfectly folded and tucked in place, and like the larger room with the couches, this one was without color. Gray walls, gray metal bed frames, and gray blankets. Only the pillows were different. Still void of color, they were white.
“Over here,” Richards said, reminding my feet to move.
Each step physically hurt; the pain inside me was excruciating. I couldn’t leave her here. I’d promised her I’d stay with her. The sound of an opening door caused me to look up, away from Sara’s face, which was burrowed into me, as it had been when I first lifted her after her accident.
Suddenly the smell made sense. The door Richards opened revealed a room that looked like our clinic, or more accurately one room of our clinic. This room had two hospital beds. I swallowed, knowing that the newly acquired wives were kept in a clinic in the building across from the church.
Why was there one here, in Father Gabriel’s house?
My feet forgot to step as I saw the occupant of one of the beds. Her face was black and blue, as Sara’s had been when I found her at the clinic. Her eyes were covered in bandages, and around her neck was a thick, leatherlike collar. Though I was sickened by the woman’s injuries—or more accurately the girl’s—it was her identity that shocked me. Attached to an IV was Sister Salome from yesterday’s service.
When I turned to the other bed, I saw the IV pole with the clear bag of solution. I recognized it from Sara’s accident.
“You said no medicine,” I said, more as a question. I didn’t want to trust this asshole, but I was out of options.
Richards nodded. “I meant it.” He shrugged. “I just can’t promise for how long.”
He pulled back the sheet and blanket of the unoccupied bed. At least it all appeared clean. When I laid her upon the mattress, the déjà vu almost knocked me off my feet. It was as if I were back nine months in the past. I wished with everything in me that I were. If this were nine months ago, I would call my mission complete before Sara ever stopped taking her medicine. I would take her away, make her safe, and call for reinforcements.
Sniffling like a child with a cold, I gently smoothed her beautiful blonde hair away from her face, and turned to Richards. “Please?” I was too devastated to fight.
After he nodded and stepped from the room, I collapsed upon Sara’s chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” My words were indistinguishable as they ran together and overlapped one another. “I love you, Sara. I won’t let this be the end. Stay strong. I know you can do this. Believe in yourself. Give this to me. I’ll take it. I’ll make sure you’re safe any way I can. Never forget me or how much I love you.”
The eyes that stared up from her bruised face shredded me. If I stared at them much longer there wouldn’t be anything left. I reached for her hand and whispered, “Like before. Remember? Do you trust me?”
She squeezed my hand once, and despite the hell we were in, I smiled.
“I will get you out. I promise.”
She squeezed again.
“I love you and our baby.”
She squeezed again.
“Only a few days,” I said, softer than everything else.