“What is this place?” She had said with wonder, when I carried her into the motel and deposited her onto the bed. I took her hand; she was trembling violently. What an assault on her senses, for a girl who’s spent her entire life locked in a tower.
Now, she’s calm, but her heart is going so fast it’s about to beat out of her fucking ribcage and land on the floor. I hope not, because this isn’t exactly the Bellagio, and I don’t think the floors have been cleaned recently.
I’ve chosen a nondescript, boring-looking Motel on the outskirts of Las Vegas. Ground floor, all one level, and we’re on the end of a row of rooms, with a parking spot out front and a clear view of any approaching traffic from the front and the back. I’m fairly certain nobody followed our flight path for now, but it’s only a matter of time. Assuming Ignacio survived the scalpel attack, he’ll be looking for me. And the first place he’ll go is Chicago, my stomping grounds. I know he’s going to try to fuck with my family, and I just have to hope that they’re smart enough to heed my warnings and take cover until I can figure this shit out. I’ve just spent the chopper ride into Mexico City, a private jet flight over to Los Angeles and a couple hours in a rental car trying to think of a solution to the dilemma I’ve just taken upon myself to fix: the real-life Rapunzel in my back seat, a girl whose value is seemingly immeasurable to Ignacio.
I mean, apart from blowing Ignacio’s brains out. I’m really regretting not doing that the first time around.
And this brings us to my bright idea at the motel. More than anything, I want to give this girl a full medical checkup, apart from the basic history I got from the ever-helpful Ignacio in Mexico, I’ve got no idea how old she is, where she came from, if her parents are still looking for her.
The sun shimmers across the mountains in the distance, the heat making everything look washed-out, dream-like. I’ve been travelling and performing surgery and stabbing and shooting for like, thirty hours without a break; I haven’t let myself close my eyes for more than a moment since I arrived in New York. I don’t even remember what day that was. All I know is that I need to get this girl somewhere away from prying eyes, my sole mission. Get her somewhere safe.
Nowhere will be safe for very long. This is the reality of our cruel world. Everybody will sell you out for the right price. Every code of loyalty is only as strong as the will of the people who enforce it. Every lock can be broken, every door can be rammed down, every traffic and security camera can be hacked.
Nowhere is safe in this world for more than a day or two.
I try to make the Spartan-style Motel room as comfortable as possible for her, but it’s obvious Seraphina isn’t used to light of any kind. Underneath the knitted ski cap I found at a Gas Station for her to cover her eyes with, tears are streaming down her cheeks like twin tributaries, carving rivers of sorrow along her pale cheeks. I remember when my sister used to get migraines when we were younger, how even the smallest crack of light under her door was unbearable to her. I gather Seraphina up in my arms and use my boot to kick open the closet door.
“Here,” I say, sitting her against the wall in this tiny square space, no bigger than my refrigerator. I’ve already arranged pillows and towels on the floor to make her comfortable; soon, the wound from her surgery is going to start hurting like a motherfucker. I set her down and stand, our connection broken.
She starts to panic, her chest rising and falling with small sobs as she hyperventilates.
“Are you leaving me here?” she whispers in the dark, searching the air with her hands. “Are you going to kill me?”
She looks pitifully small, her hands coming to rest on top of her knees. She’s wearing a spare pair of my green surgical scrubs that swim on her slight frame. I couldn’t find anything to dress her in in that fucking tower Ignacio kept her locked in that was more substantial than a tiny nightgown made for a twelve-year-old. I push the thought of that away for now, knowing that I can’t get angry and flip the fuck out until Seraphina is okay.
I mean, I’m not sure she’ll ever be okay.
“Hey, Seraphina,” I say softly, kneeling in front of her, taking both of her hands in mine. She’s shaking violently. The spinal block wearing off makes you shake sometimes, and layered on top of her terror it’s like she’s caught in the middle of an invisible storm only she can see. “Seraphina. I’m not doing either of those things. This is a closet. You know what that is?”
She nods.
“This is the darkest place I can find in here, sweetheart. I know the light hurts your eyes. I promise I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”
She nods again, her breath hitching in her throat as she starts to calm down.
I might not be a legitimate doctor in a hospital, but my motherfucking bedside manner is one of my best attributes. I can talk anyone into believing they’re going to be okay, whether they’ve just been peppered with bullets, or stabbed, or tortured, or had all their teeth removed with a pair of pliers by a crazy fucking Russian. Yes, that really happened once.
“Please don’t go,” she begs. My heart fucking shatters. I nod, even though she can’t see me, as I squeeze her hands. “I’m right here. I’m right here with you.”
On instinct, I wipe the tears from her cheeks, her skin warm and wet beneath the spot where the ski cap rests under her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“It’s okay, Seraphina.”
“You can call me Phina,” she whispers.
“It’s okay, Phina. Everything is going to be okay.”
It’s a lie, but I hope she believes me. I wedge myself in the spot on the opposite wall of the small built-in closet and pull the door shut with my finger, our legs pressed together in the tiny space. When I arrange a towel under the bottom of the door, the world is plunged into pitch black, and I heave a sigh of relief. It’s like trying to keep a vampire from burning to ash in the sun. If vampires were real. I need some fucking sleep.
“There you go,” I murmur, pulling one hand away from her death-grip and taking the ski cap between my thumb and forefinger.
“You ready to try taking this off?”
She nods.