Thais stood up.
I couldn’t look at her.
“Why are you even here?” she asked. “In this city.”
She was no longer afraid of me—I was afraid of her, and I wasn’t even close to understanding why. I didn’t want to know. No matter what it was, it could only end a handful of ways, and not one of them did I believe were in either of our best interests.
I went back over to my desk and sat down, slouching against the chair, interlocking my fingers over my stomach. I stared at the wall.
The soft padding of Thais’ bare feet moving across the floor toward me made me acutely aware of her, aware that something about her had changed. I glanced at her uncomfortably from the corner of my eye.
Her steps were slow and deliberate; her hips swished beneath her dress. She moved between my splayed legs, and stopped. I couldn’t move at first, confused by what was happening, or what I thought might be happening. I looked up at her, and she reached out her hand and went to touch my cheek; my hand shot up and clamped around her wrist, stopping her.
“What are you doing?” I asked incredulously, wishing the chair had wheels so I could roll it backward and away from her—it would be kinder than shoving her onto the damn floor.
THAIS
My face heated to an embarrassing temperature, so hot it felt like the blood was on fire beneath my cheeks. I lowered my eyes to avoid his, felt an uncomfortable pang in my stomach. I had never tried to seduce a man before. I knew nothing of the art of seduction, but I knew men didn’t usually turn women down. I felt ridiculous and unattractive suddenly.
I took several steps back, folded my hands together down in front of me, and lowered my eyes in shame.
“I-I just thought it might be what you wanted.”
“What?” There was an edge of disbelief in his voice. Or was it disgust? I couldn’t tell.
“To help me,” I explained. “I thought that might be your price.”
“And you were willing to pay that price?”
I couldn’t answer at first.
“Yes,” I decided—anything for Sosie.
Atticus leaned over, rested his arms atop his thighs and dangled his hands between his legs.
“That’s not you,” he said. “I knew that the day you came here.”
I looked up the rest of the way. “What’s not me?” I came back, offended. “I’m not as human as any other girl here?” I waved a hand in front of me in gesture, and my tone sharpened. “I’m not as vulnerable as Petra or any of those other girls in that brothel? Well, I am! I’m human just like they are and I can change, too!”
“Not like that you can’t.”
I cocked my head to one side, baffled.
Pointing at the floor, I said with an edge, “Well this is me changing”—I pointed once more, harder—“this is me begging you to have your way with me if only you’ll help me and Sosie out of this place! I will do anything! I can be like those pretty women in that brothel! I can spread my legs and open my mouth and get on my knees, all you have to do is say the word!”
Atticus stood up and moved toward me slowly. I sniffled and wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. But I didn’t move. I would go through with this if it was what he wanted. My stomach swam with anxiety; my face was hot with shame, my heart broken with guilt.
He stopped in front of me, the tips of his boots nearly touching my bare toes, and I sucked in a breath and held it, waiting, for what, I didn’t know but I would be ready.
“You’re not like the rest of them, Thais,” he said. “You’re willing to give your body up only to save your sister, not to save yourself, and that makes you different from them.”
I swallowed and looked up at his tall height.
Atticus went toward the door, sliding the lock over, then he moved toward his bed, kicking off his boots on the way, and he sat down on the edge of it.
I just watched him, struck by his words.
“Sir?”
“Don’t call me that.” He stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.
“Overseer?”
He glanced across the room at me.
“Call me Atticus.”
I swallowed nervously, my fingers wound together in front of me.
“Atticus?”
“What?”
He laid down against the mattress.
“Are you going to help us, or not?”
ATTICUS
I paused, thinking about the consequences, and the impossibility of her request.
“I’ll see what I can do about getting you and your sister out of the city,” I said, laying my head against the pillow. “I make no promises. But I’ll see what I can do.”
Thais nodded.
“Thank you. Atticus.”
With regret in my heart, I closed my eyes, knowing there was little, if anything, that I could do to help them.
19
THAIS
When I woke the next morning, Atticus wasn’t in the room. The door was unlocked but I didn’t take advantage. I was a prisoner of Lexington City, yes, but not of this man who although I did not trust, I began to feel like…maybe I could. He had given me hope. But I decided that once he helped me and Sosie out of the city, we’d make a run for it, and get far away from him, too.
“One thing at a time,” I said aloud, peering out the window into the bustling city streets.
I spent the entire day in the room. No one came to bring me breakfast or lunch; no one came to escort me to the restroom, so I held it until I couldn’t anymore, and then I slipped into the hallway and went to the restroom alone. I was alone well into the evening hours, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. What was this conflicted man, who was as frightening as he was interesting, doing all day? Where was he, and did he even plan to come back? Did he intend to help me, or had he only told me what I’d wanted to hear?
And where was Sosie?
Always Sosie.
“We’ll be out of here soon,” I said, wishing Sosie could hear me.
Darkness fell, and with it came a downpour; the streets emptied of people as they scattered into their homes. I sat on the windowsill, watching the rain thrust into the streets and the sidewalks; I watched the glow of lights burning in the windows of nearby buildings, and heard an acoustic guitar playing somewhere close. My stomach rumbled and my mouth was dry and my heart ached for my sister and my father and my mother. I dreamt of a time before The Fall, when my family was together, sitting curled up on the sofa watching television; our smiling faces; my mother’s enchanting laughter. And I thought of my father, of the way he smelled, like aftershave and cherry cigars, even though he never smoked cherry cigars. And I thought of Sosie’s confidence and her beauty and how she’d prance through the living room, practicing her model walk, and—