Page 46 of Sin of Love

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CAPTIVITY - DAY 84

Planninga delayed overdose is a tricky thing. Too much too soon, and I’ll keel over before the fun starts. Too little, and I’ll live long enough to die in agony at the Devil’s hands. I’d like to avoid that and die on my own terms.

The idea of how came to me while lying in a bloody mess on the floor of the dining room with Julep sobbing out his penance nearby. He’d almost killed me again, nearly suffocating me in his fervor. The only reason I’m alive is because my neck was slick with blood and his fingers couldn’t maintain their grip.

Something changed inside me that night. Perhaps I entered the final stage of grief—acceptance.

The person lost? Myself.

Too long without hope, I gave in to the inevitability of it all, and finally found the courage to die.

For the last two weeks, I’ve planned my death. And I’ve also done as Julep instructed and trained the girls. With what was left of my heart and mind, I trained them under the condition that we weren’t observed. Not by guards, not by Maggie, not even by Julep himself. His guilt over the night in the dining room is my honeypot, and I’ve taken it for everything it’s worth. I’ve eaten all my meals with the girls, spent the intervening hours with them, and slept alone because Just another week, Julep, let me make these the best dolls you’ve ever seen.

He’s eaten up my enthusiasm, my dedication. He’s swallowed it down. And in my brief moments of clarity, I’ve realized he’s afraid he did kill me that night. At least in the ways that matter to him. He’s scared his perfect doll isn’t perfect anymore.

I’ve enjoyed his fear. Asked for more favors. Hair clips and jewelry. Cotton pajamas instead of the scratchy lingerie he’s always made me sleep in.

And I’ve used earrings and a bobby pin to pick the lock on the cabinet with my supply of poppy tea. Inside, the powder sits in tiny bags, deceptively innocuous. Because there’s only a week’s supply at any given time, I poked tiny holes in the pouches and syphoned off a little each day. My deadly treasure is hidden in the toilet tank, inside a plastic bottle one of the guards tossed near the wall. Unoriginal, maybe, but effective.

In the dark, I’ve planned my death. In the light, I’ve trained the girls. Taughtthem. We’ve covered many topics, but always come back to a few core ideas.

They are worthy of happiness.

They are whole, capable creatures.

They deserve more than this.

They are free.

* * *

“Stunning.Absolute perfection. You’ve far exceeded my expectations, mi muñequita.”

Julep’s shimmering dark eyes find mine. I bow my head, affecting humble pleasure and gratitude.

“They’re all diamonds,” I murmur, my gaze moving down the line of svelte, dolled-up teens. “All it took was a little polish. I hope El Jefe will be pleased with the results.”

“Pleased? Of course he will be pleased!” Julep tugs me to him, pressing a loud kiss to my hair. “This is the future. We are the future!”

His excitement is infectious, as usual. The guards scattered across the courtyard and near the gates are smiling and trading nods. They think they’ll reap benefits, too. Maybe some time off or a small bonus from their magnanimous boss.

I watch Julep saunter down the line of girls, who cater to him with bashfulness and giggles. Just as I instructed them. He kisses hands in gentlemanly flourish, offers them compliments galore, and I don’t care.

I gave them everything I had left. What they do now is up to them. The important thing—the only thing that mattered to me—was that their rose-colored glasses be torn off and they be forced to confront the truth.

They’d never be allowed to leave after three years, especially if they made consistent money for the cartel—money they’d never see. At first it would be all promises, wining and dining, fine clothes and young, handsome clients. Eventually, when they realized the trap they’d fallen into, they’d be forcefully hooked on drugs to keep them complacent. They’d be whored out until they outlived their usefulness, and then they’d be killed.

It took a lot to make them believe me. I really did give them everything I had left. All the poison of my childhood, the betrayal and abandonment. How I sold my virginity for a bus ticket and lived on the streets, stealing and hustling until I met Nate.

How, when the black sedan pulled up beside Nate and me on that winter night in San Bernardino, we’d just been talking about our dwindling options, both of us afraid to admit what came next for young, still-attractive street kids like us.

I close my eyes and see Nate’s face from that long-ago night. The weariness and grime, the pale cheeks pinched with hunger. How badly I’d wanted to feed him, and how the man in the car looked so normal. Not that much older than us, he hadn’t had any of the red flags we were used to from child predators.

Plus, I wasn’t afraid to defend us. I’d done it plenty already. We’d be okay. Just dinner and some hot showers. We’ll be okay. We weren’t.

When I open my eyes, I see Maggie. Past the girls and Julep, past the ostentatious stucco fountain and the limo that waits to take the girls to the chosen coastal resort, she stands and watches everything. Watches me. She’s too far away for me to make out her expression, but her posture gives me a foreboding shiver.

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