Livia backed away, terrified. She tried to think of words, but her mind was suddenly frozen. She could smell the alcohol, that awful smell.
“I no . . . I no . . .” she stammered.
He came closer and leaned forward so that his face was just inches from hers. “You what? You disobeyed me, didn’t you?”
“No! I . . . I . . .”
His arm shot out and he snatched the towel from her body, yanking it so violently that she was nearly pulled into him. For a second she managed to cling to it, but he tore it from her hands and flung it behind him. Livia shrank back against the wall, trembling, covering herself with her arms.
Mr. Lone stepped in and leaned so close that she could feel his breath on her face. “Are you going to lock the door anymore?”
She looked at the floor, her face burning with shame and fear, her arms in front of her, her body contorted as though trying to fold in on itself.
“No,” she managed to whisper through a constricted throat.
“Look at me when I talk to you, Livia.” His voice was nearly a growl.
She couldn’t.
“Look at me!” he shouted.
She stared up into his eyes, grimacing with helplessness and terror, her breath whistling in and out of her nostrils.
“This kind of disobedience,” he said, his voice lower again. “After all I’ve done for you. Taking you into my home. Making you my daughter. Providing for you. Trying to find your sister. And I have some news for you in that regard, did you know that? Yes, I have some news.”
For an instant, Livia forgot everything else—her fear, her shame, her nakedness. “What?” she said. “What news? About Nason? Please, what?”
“Really? Why should I tell you now, when you’re so ungrateful?”
“Tell! Please!”
“You want me to be honest with you, is that it Livia? Open? Not to keep secrets?”
“Yes. Please. I want.”
“You want that.”
“Yes. I want that.”
“And yet look at you. Locking the door. And then standing here in front of me, trying to cover yourself. What are you hiding from me, Livia?”
“What? No, not . . .”
She couldn’t find the words. Everything Nanu had taught her, it was all suddenly gone. She was confused and afraid, and the feeling of what the men on the boat had made her do mushroomed in her mind like an evil spirit, and Mr. Lone knew something about Nason and he wasn’t even telling her.
“Not what, Livia? Stand up straight. Lower your arms.”
She couldn’t. She tried to make her arms move. But she couldn’t.
“That’s fine. If you want to hide from me, I’ll hide what I know about Nason. It’s up to you.”
He turned as though to leave.
“Wait!” Livia shouted. “Wait.”
He turned and looked at her, saying nothing.
Her lips were trembling. Her arms and legs were worse. She dropped her head and did her best to stand up straight. Then she lowered her shaking arms. She gritted her teeth, trying desperately not to cry.
“All right,” Mr. Lone said. “That’s good, Livia. That’s a good girl.”
Her vision blurred. She blinked, and saw tears hitting the tiled floor.
“Now, would you like to learn about Nason?”
As desperate as she was to hear, all she could manage was a nod.
“Look at me, Livia. Look at me when I talk to you.”
She looked at him. And saw the bulge in his pants, the same as the men on the boat. She had already known it would be there.
He reached out and brushed away her tears. His touch brought a wave of nausea, and made her cry harder. But she didn’t flinch.
“Your sister is all right, Livia. I know where she is.”
One of Livia’s hands flew to her mouth and she sobbed. She clasped her other hand over the first, pressing her palms in hard, trying to stop herself from crying, but another sob erupted, and then another. Her legs wobbled, and she reached for the towel rack to steady herself.
“Yes, Nason is all right, but she is in some danger. We have to be very careful about how we try to help her, do you understand, Livia? Very careful.”
Livia shook her head, still sobbing. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand any of it. Danger? Nason?
“Don’t cover yourself,” he said sharply. “I told you.”
She hadn’t even realized her arms had moved back in front of her. She managed to part them a little.
She breathed in and out and tried to concentrate, to think of the words she needed. “Why she danger? Why—”
“Why is she in danger?”
“Yes, why that. And we help. We”—she tried to remember the English grammar for necessity, couldn’t—“we help. Help. Help Nason. Please.”
“Yes. We’re going to try to help. But it’s going to take time. And it’s very important that the men holding her not know we know.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you that right now.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t.”
“Where she is? Please.”
“Where is she?”