She maintained the pose until the incense had burned low. Then she slipped into bed and lay on her back. She would use an eyeshade soon against the morning sun, but for now it was still dark enough. She breathed slowly in and out, the sheets cool against her skin, a slight tingle in her extremities.
She closed her eyes and in her mind replayed everything about the evening. Studying Barnett’s file. Reconnaissance of the neighborhood. Buying the wig, the glasses, the yoga outfit, all for cash from stores outside the city. The ride into Marysville that night. Stripping off the leathers and putting on the makeup in a fast-food restroom. Walking into the bar, nervous as the whole thing went live. Catching his eye. The flush of excitement as he sauntered over.
Her heart began to beat harder, and she parted her lips to draw more air. She flexed her legs and brought her knees up a few inches from the mattress, the sheets sliding smoothly under her toes and the balls of her feet.
The smell of his bourbon as he got increasingly drunk, whatever self-control he had fading, his judgment occluded. The way he looked at her. Knowing what he was thinking, planning.
She shifted her weight to one shoulder, then the other. Her knees widened and one of her hands drifted down between her legs.
The way he had grabbed her shoulders and shaken her. How he had tried to pull her in and make her kiss him.
“No,” she breathed aloud, her fingers pressing, rubbing, moving. “No. I don’t want this.”
How he’d ignored her pleas and thrown her down on the grass. His weight as he straddled her.
Her fingers were moving faster now, harder, her breathing loud in her ears. She could feel the pressure building inside her. “No,” she said again. “No.”
His hand on her throat. The sound of his belt buckle.
She sat up and twisted around, her knees spread wide, her free hand gripping the bedsheet, her arm taking her weight. She rocked her hips against her fingers and moaned.
Squeezing his neck, feeling it being crushed in the figure-four of her legs.
The pressure was unbearable now. She gripped the sheet harder and spread her knees wider.
The way he’d scratched at her leg, his efforts frantic at first, then increasingly feeble. Knowing she’d stopped him. Denied him every option. Taken complete control—
And then the pressure exploded, and she cried out, the pleasure obliterating Barnett, obliterating the memories, obliterating everything.
Eventually, it began to slacken. She shuddered once as her consciousness reconstructed itself, then turned onto her back. She lay there, her heart slowing, her breathing coming back to normal, her muscles relaxing as sleep overtook her.
The sun was still below the horizon, but the loft was filling with soft gray light. She reached sluggishly for the eyeshade, not even aware of the tears streaking her face.
6—THEN
At one point during the day, the men came with blankets. They threw them on the floor and left, the bolts scraping into place after they closed the door behind them.
Livia grabbed one blanket for Nason and herself, and the other children immediately followed suit. But there was no need to hurry—there were enough for everyone. In fact, there was exactly one extra, which the Yao boy took for himself so that he had two. Livia gestured to his extra blanket, then to herself, indicating he should give it to her because she and Nason had only the one. But the boy shook his head and clutched both blankets close to his body.
Livia took a step closer and gestured to the extra blanket again. “You give,” she said in Thai.
The Yao boy shook his head again and took a step back.
Livia handed the blanket to Nason and advanced on the boy. “You give,” she said. “One each. Not two. One.”
The Yao boy backed up until he hit one of the metal walls and could go no farther. He clutched the blankets tightly and bared his teeth at Livia.
She didn’t care that he was older and bigger. It wasn’t fair that he had taken two blankets. And it wouldn’t be good for anyone if the stronger children figured out they could take what they wanted from the weaker ones. She advanced, stopping just a few feet away from him. She looked directly into his eyes and stuck out her hand, the gesture not a request but a demand.
Despite his size, the Yao boy looked uncertain. But he wouldn’t surrender the blanket. Livia prepared to grab it, thinking she would punch him in the face or kick him in the place it hurt boys most if he tried to pull it away.
But just before she went for the blanket, Kai came up alongside her and stood facing the Yao boy, his shoulder almost touching Livia’s. He was smaller than the Yao boy—smaller even than Livia—but his voice was firm as he pointed to the Yao boy and said in Thai, “You give. Give blanket.”