“What are you planning?” I finally accused; I stood in the center of the room with my arms crossed.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re planning something,” I said stepping up closer, “and you’re gonna tell me what it is.”
She shook her head as if to say “You’re crazy” and went back to pretending to read.
“Things are missing from my room, Thais.” I towered over her, casting a dark shadow over the text I knew she wasn’t reading. “I know where everything is in my room at all times—several things aren’t where they were just this morning.”
She craned her neck to look up at me.
THAIS
“So, you think I stole it?” I tried to remain calm, but my heart was beating so fast I thought I might puke.
Atticus crouched in front of me, his long legs open, his muscled arms propped atop his camos; his black boots made a squeaking noise against the floor as he balanced his weight in them. He looked me in the eyes; his close proximity made my heart rattle and my hands shake. Absently, I let the book drop from my fingers into my lap.
“You’re the only person allowed in this room,” he said, “so no one else could’ve taken it.”
“You just let that man in here,” I reminded him.
He ignored my distraction attempts.
“I know you’ve got something planned,” he said in a calm, persistent voice. “There’s been something different about you since Farah came here the other day and brought you a new dress—(Oh, that’s her name!)—and I’m not leaving this room until you come clean.”
“Well, I don’t have anything planned,” I said. “And I didn’t steal anything.” Every lie I told made me feel that much more nauseous because I knew he wasn’t buying any of it. And the longer I stayed, trapped in this room when I was supposed to meet ‘Farah’ downstairs, the further away my escape drifted from my grasp.
Atticus grabbed my arm and jerked me from the cot. I stumbled when he let go, and took several steps away from him when the sheet and blanket went flying into the air, followed by the mattress as Atticus turned it up on its side. He searched underneath to find it empty, then dropped it with frustration; a brief gust of wind stirred several loose sheets of paper on his desk a few feet away.
I watched in a quiet panic, both hands pressed to my chest—I thought my heart might finally burst right through it. He knows…dear God, he knows…
Atticus searched in every corner of the room. He tossed clothes, moved boxes, opened drawers, checked behind and under furniture until he found his olive-green knapsack hidden in the laundry hamper. As he lifted it out, dangled on his index finger by the hook strap, the room got quiet. He threw the flap over onto the back of the bag and peered inside. Everything I had stolen was there.
He dropped the bag on the floor in front of me.
“Where were you planning to go, Thais?”
My eyes strayed. I didn’t answer; I knew I was busted, but I wasn’t ready to give up—I would fight this for as long as I could.
ATTICUS
“I’m not leaving this room until you tell me,” I said. “You know you can’t get out of this city alone. And even if you did, you wouldn’t make it far. So, who’s helping you?”
“No one.”
“Who’s helping you?”
She looked at the floor.
I grabbed her elbows and shook her; strands of hair fell down her face.
“Answer me!”
I was pissed, but deep down it was more with myself than with Thais. She was only doing what I would’ve done—whatever it was exactly—if I were in her position. I was pissed at myself because I knew that none of my plans for change in Lexington City would ever come to fruition. And every single thing that happened since Thais arrived, no matter how great or small, further opened my eyes to that brutal truth—her plan to escape, evident by the bag on the floor, was just another one of those things.
Thais’ life was in my hands. If she remained in the city, she would end up in Rafe’s bed—or in Private Masters’ bed—or dead at the hands of Rafe’s viper wives. If she escaped the city, she would either be dragged back, or killed before she got far. Whatever she was planning to do now, I knew that her blood would be on my hands alone. I needed more time. Just like I needed more time with her sister. Thais trying to leave now—and Evelyn only giving me one week—was stripping away what little time I had, and at a faster rate than I could keep up with.
Fuck!
I shook her again, my fingers pressing against the bones in her arms.
THAIS
His eyes churned with anger, the corners narrowed, the blue irises swirling with purpose, his pupils contracted. I could smell his warm, unoffending breath he was so close, and the soap and cigarettes on his body, though I had never seen him smoke before.
He released me and marched over to a red milk crate, yanked out a thick mass of old telephone cord and unraveled it; his large hands moved in a chaotic motion, his fingers poked and pried and pulled as if it were a complicated puzzle as he untangled the massive knots.
Anxiety filled me. He’s going to tie me up!
I glanced at the locked door, wondering if I could get to it fast enough, but it was a preposterous idea.
“Give me your hands,” he demanded; the cord, only partially untangled, hung from his fist.
I shook my head and walked backwards toward the door.
Atticus followed.
“I’m going to find my sister!” I cried out, my voice strained; I put my arms up in front of me.
Atticus stopped. “With a getaway bag?” he said with accusation, glancing at the bag on the floor. “You were doing more than that.”
He came toward me again, the long cord dragging the floor beside him. I kept walking backwards toward the door until I could go no farther.
“Please, I’m begging you to let me go,” I said, still with my hands out in front of me. “I-I can tell you’re not a bad man. “Y-You’re d-different from the other men here. Please, just let me go…” A part of me truly believed that he was different.
I was teetering precariously on the edge of my and Sosie’s freedom. Every second I spent in the room pushed me further and further away from our only chance. Sosie’s face flashed across my mind; I saw Farah waiting with her by the fountains, getting anxious as the time passed and I never showed; I saw Sosie’s hope drain out of her face—I needed to leave. Now.
“Please!” Begging was all I had.
Atticus stopped, the cord dangling from his hand.
He shook his head with what seemed like concern, and then said in a calmer voice, “I know you’re going to try running. And I know that someone is helping you”—he pointed upward as if to emphasize his point—“and how I know is not only because of the bag, but because it’s not even nightfall yet. Unless you had help, you’d wait until it was dark before trying to escape, like any intelligent person would.”
My gaze strayed; he was right and I didn’t want him to know it.
Reaching up with both hands, I adjusted the shoulder straps of my dress for nothing other than a nervous distraction.
“Is it Farah?” Atticus finally came out with it.