Page 17 of Viking

I look at the piece of paper in my hand and bite my lip. The only way I know how to answer is by drawing my island home: the cliff from which I jumped, the thorny dark forest, and our village with the great hall and the Sisters’ cages in the center. I circle the cages and hand it back to Calamity.

“Fuck me. You’re a regular Picasso,” Calamity mutters.

I do not know what that means, but the longer she studies the picture, the more her facial features twist in disgust.

“They kept you here?” Her tone is not light and playful anymore. It’s cutting as she points to the cages.

I nod.

“Jesus,” she covers her mouth with her palm. Her eyes are watery and she does not look at me. “I just ... I just need a minute, sugar. You sit tight.”

She rises from the bed and moves toward the door, pulling it back harshly. I can’t see who’s on the other side because the bed is against the closest wall. “Not now, Vike. Back up.”

“What the fuck happened, CJ?”

The door closes firmly behind Calamity Jane and I stare down at my hands. Perhaps this is why they didn’t allow us writing tools. Maybe the brothers knew whatever we produced would only hurt people.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Viking

“You had better starttalkin’,” I say, and CJ glares up at me. I’ve never seen this woman cry since Blue introduced us fifteen years ago. She’s the toughest bitch I know. “What the fuck happened in there? Is she alright?”

“She’s fine ... physically. A few cuts and bruises, and I can’t diagnose anything really beyond that without scans and bloods. She is gonna need to see a doctor at some point.”

“She talk yet?”

CJ shakes her head. “No, but her scarring is extensive. The girl’s been through hell, Vike. She can’t read or write, but she drew this when I asked where she’d come from.”

She hands me an old liquor store receipt, and I turn it over. My brows shoot skyward as I study the island and all it’s elements, but it’s the circled cages in the middle of what appears to be a town square that confuse me. “What the fuck am I looking at, CJ?”

“You’re looking at her home.” She taps the picture, her fingers landing on the cage. “These people, whoever they are, they raped her, hurt her for years, and they kept her in a fucking cage like an animal, Vike.”

I turn from CJ and burst through the door. My little siren is sitting upright in bed, her eyes wide and the blanket pulled tightly up to her chin.

“Where is this?” I demand, pointing to the drawing.

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