Page 8 of Wanted
When three hours passed, I knocked on the door of the room with a fresh attitude. My sweating and shaking had calmed down for the time being. What better way to start my fourth or fifth recovery? I had lost count.
The door pushed open, and I followed the shadow on the other end. Fylox rushed away like I was the devil in person. Perhaps I was.
I’d betrayed my people. I’d lied to them. I’d made them believe I’d give them a wedding, and, now, here I was in a foreign country, hidden away.
I took careful steps in the direction of the open kitchen and the connected dining room. I had grown up in big places; I didn’t get lost easily.
“You’re not a vegetarian or something?” he asked me when I stepped into the kitchen area, and I twitched at the sound of his voice. He was holding two long cylindrical glasses on his way to the table. They looked like club property for cocktails, not glasses for dinner. Taking advantage of the situation, I let my eyes wander over every detail of his muscular body.
I shook my head. My eyes took in the table. It was decked with takeaway food and two clear glass bottles full of water. I smelled something Asian, and I hadn’t had Asian in so long. Was it Chinese? I yearned for some Chinese food. We had an excellent Chinese spot in Katantia, but the palace had tax issues with the owner, so we were discouraged from buying food from over there. I went back there a couple of times, only to find out it had been turned into an inner-city Hole Store.
The tall man took a seat at the head of the table. I joined him. He revealed, “I don’t have any refreshments.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine with water,” I responded. I didn’t need a refreshment. I could look into his eyes and drink from the cognac they offered. Okay. Was there something in the water I had just showered in? I corrected my posture, and I held my head high, avoiding his face.
This was temporary. We would be separated soon. Obvi-fuck-you-sly, he didn’t want to fuck me. I only attracted Aram because I was such a mess. And who said he had a right to want me? I didn’t want him or his weird habits either.
Fylox unboxed the food. He told me each dish’s name, and he let me choose which one I wanted to eat. It wasn’t Chinese. It was Thai, but it tasted great, nonetheless. I feared my stomach would think otherwise in the long run, but I didn’t care. I emptied my plate, and he handed me another dish. He’d ordered plenty.
“You can go into the room I’ve given you after dinner.”
My eyes were fixed on the plate in front of me. I didn’t bow to anyone. Why was it easy to bend to this stranger?
He went on, “I ask only one thing of you. Watch your language around me.”
There was a subtle urgency to his tone that I only noticed because I’d been trained to pick up on the details. Daddy made sure that his children knew how to manipulate a crowd. “I didn’t mean to come off so cross. I don’t usually curse this much. They teach us clean language in the palace so that the public doesn’t get the wrong idea. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“You’re not sorry,” he replied, catching me knee-deep in my lie.
“I’m not.”
“But you will do as I say.”
“I’ll try,” I promised him.
We ate dinner in silence. I didn’t dare to look at him again. As much as I picked up on the small details of his pain, he saw right through me as well. Whatever they’d told him about me, it wasn’t enough.
I was ruined.
And there was no coming back from that.
KAMILA
I didn’t remember the last time I actually slept. Not being on the road and on the actual run gave me time to remember all the excruciating parts of my existence.
I’d tried three cold showers, but I still felt feverish. My mind raced, and my heart pounded in my chest, providing depressing music for my empty reality. I wanted my brother. I needed him to take care of me. He knew how to treat me in withdrawal.
Thinking back to my home in Katantia, and the last time I smoked a joint or actually popped some pills, it made my mouth water.
Sobbing to myself, I sat on the floor, my back to the bed. My vision was directed at the window, but the clear night sky depressed me. I missed seeing the stars. I missed hearing the sea when I opened my window. I missed my garden. What would happen to my garden now?
I whimpered.
I had stopped watching the digital clock on the nightstand. The red-colored numbers didn’t make me feel any comfort. They depressed me, reminding me of the distance between my family and me.
The knock on my door came unexpectedly.
“What’s wrong with you?” Fylox asked, stepping into my room.
