"Yes," her sweet, soft voice floats in the air and lands with a thud right in my gut. I don't know why she has such an effect on me, but she does. It's not even sexual, even though I've thought about crawling up on that bed several times already just to feel her next to me. I know she wouldn't tolerate that.
"Did you need something? You want to switch?" she asks, and I puff a breath through my nose. Why the hell is she so damn selfless? I've already given up my comfort for the night, yet she keeps trying to make me rethink my decision.
"No, I don't want to switch. I just wanted to ask you a question."
"Go on."
"What is your plan? I mean, you can't think staying in an abandoned warehouse is something you can do long-term. Are you going back to the States? Are you staying here?"
She takes a few seconds before she answers. "I don't know."
"How can you not know? What was the plan when you came out here?"
She sits up in the bed and folds her arms over her chest. It's obvious that what I'm asking her is hitting close to a nerve. "I didn't have a plan when I came out here. I just am here now."
"What the hell does that mean? You just appeared here? You must have gotten here somehow."
Angela presses her lips together tightly before she answers me. "I was snuck onto the island via cruise ship. I didn't even know what island I was on until the next day. I don't have a plan. I'm just trying to survive." She holds my gaze before she flops back down to the bed, leaving me with more questions than I had before.
She's on the run? The question now becomes if she's on the run because someone wants to do something to her or because she did something to someone else.
"Are you running from the cops or something?"
"No, of course not." She has the nerve to sound offended.
I could've guessed she wouldn't do anything to hurt someone, but I had to be sure. If she's not running from the cops, that means she's running from someone else—someone who's trying to do something to her.
"Your husband? Boyfriend?" I ask, going to the next possible explanation.
The room is silent for a few seconds, and I lean up on the cot, thinking maybe she'd fallen asleep.
"He wasn't my husband, not yet." Her voice is thick, as if she's about to cry.
No wonder she's so worried about me trying to hurt her. The man she was about to spend the rest of her life with did something so heinous it forced her to stow away on a cruise ship to get away from him.
"What about family? Can't someone in your family help?"
"I only have a brother and my father," she replies.
"Okay, what about them?" Maybe she's too ashamed to call them, but if there's one thing I know about family, it's that no matter how much wrong you've done, they'll always be there to help you.
"My father and brother watched him hurt me. They watched and they laughed. Believe me when I say I have no one. Now, if you don't mind, I really want to go to sleep." She turned over on her side, and I am stuck staring at her with my mouth hanging open.
That was by far not what I expected her to say.
This woman has really been through it. But I've yet to hear her complain even once. Sure, she's skittish, but she doesn't seem bitter.
I promised myself I wouldn't get involved with other people's drama, but now that I know Angela, there's no way I'm letting her battle her demons alone. I need to find out more information, but I'm pretty sure getting her to open up to me is going to be harder said than done.
First things first: getting her to trust me.
***
I wake up to the sound of soft footsteps making their way to the door.
If this were any other woman, I'd be happy she was leaving on her own accord, but this was Angela. I didn't want her to be spooked off. There was absolutely no chance that I wasn't going to go looking for her again. Just thinking about her sleeping outside is enough for me to want to check on her every day to make sure that doesn't happen.
"You don't have to sneak out," I grumble and turn my head to look at her.