Page 27 of Torment

7

Jolie

Twelve…thirteen… fourteen.

I finished counting the discarded protein bar wrappers before crumpling them up and shoving them in a box. I had one bar twice a day, so that meant Mason had been gone for a week now.

After he tortured and interrogated me in the brand new Penance room he’d built—clearly to mock my old religion, as if I really had a choice in participating in it at the time—he dragged me back down to my cell and told me he was going away for a while. The next day, presumably early in the morning, he brought boxes laden with supplies to keep me going while he was away. That was one thing he’d made abundantly clear: he wanted me alive and well.

But only for now.

He didn’t tell me exactly how long he’d be gone, and I didn’t ask. I was too frightened to speak up anymore. I knew from experience that if I said something he deemed ‘wrong’ he would hurt me even more than he already planned to.

In the supply boxes, there were clothes, toothpaste and deodorant, stacks of books to stop me from going stir crazy, and enough water to last around two weeks, maybe three if I really stretched it. There was a similar amount of food. Protein bars, dried fruit and canned garbanzo beans. Not exactly an amazing diet, but at least I didn’t have to eat it out of a dog bowl anymore.

I was grateful to Mason for the food and other supplies, despite all the terrible things that had been done to me over the last few weeks.

It was an odd feeling to hate someone and be thankful for them at the same time. Even though I despised whatever Mason had become, I relied on him for survival. If he didn’t bring me water, I would die of dehydration. If he didn’t bring me food, I would starve. If he didn’t bring me books or program the TV to turn on for a few hours a day, I’d lose my mind from isolation and boredom. So in a sick, twisted way that was entirely out of my hands, I needed him.

Despite the fact a whole week had passed since the revelation that Mason was my captor, I was still in shock over it. I’d wondered for a long time what it would be like if I ever saw him again, but I’d never dreamed it would be like this. I’d never dreamed he would trap me in a cell and torture me mercilessly.

Considering how kind and empathetic he was back in the day, I’d always held onto a sliver of hope that he might understand why I did what I did all those years ago if he ever found out about it. I’d also wondered if he’d be able to find it in his heart to forgive me for whatever pain I might have caused him. I’d never dreamed a man like him would become so vengeful instead.

I guess I couldn’t blame him, though.

I felt a sudden stabbing pain in my side, a physical manifestation of my guilt.

I got up and paced the cell as I tried to put it out of my mind and force myself to become a blank slate. I’d become an expert at that over the years, but for some reason, I couldn’t make it happen today. As I walked, my mind became crowded with even more thoughts, concerns, and questions.

Oh, the questions. I had so many. They were like weeds in a swamp. Every time I thought I could swim away and push toward the surface, another one rose from the dark depths to tangle around my legs, dragging me back down.

For one, why was Mason so sure that my father and the men from the Path of the Covenant were still alive?

If they were still out there, they’d surely want to get their women back, either to enslave them again or torture and kill them for their disloyalty and unfaithfulness. Especially me, given my status on the internet as the girl who took them down.

That was why I was so sure it was them holding me captive when I was first brought to this terrible place. Even though I was once certain they all died in the plane crash, it was the only thing that made sense at the time; that one or more of them had actually survived and decided to take me. I just couldn’t think of anyone else who might want to hold me captive. I definitely never thought it could be Mason…

But it was.

Now I was certain once again that the cultists were all dead. If they weren’t, why didn’t they ever come after me? Or Lauren? Or any of the other girls? They’d had eight years to do so, after all. It didn’t make sense.

Besides, there was just no way they survived the plane crash. Even if Mason was right and they never actually got on the plane (aside from the men he believed were put on board as sacrificial lambs), it still didn’t make sense that they’d all vanished so utterly and completely. Over a hundred men was a lot to hide. For so many people to assume new identities and escape all at once… it just didn’t compute in my head. Surely at least one of them would’ve been caught by now. The US was a big place, but I knew from experience that it wasn’t the easiest place to hide.

So Mason had to be wrong. The men couldn’t be alive.

I could understand why he was so desperate to believe they were, though. After spending all those months gathering evidence against the men in order to take them down, they’d still managed to get away with it in the end, in the sense that they never had to face justice for their crimes. That had to mess with Mason’s head, being so close yet so far from fully realizing his mission.

The fact that he never got any credit for dismantling the cult had to bother him as well. Because of the viral video he made, I’d become the face of the New Eden rescue story, even though he was the real hero behind it all. But no one seemed to know that. His name literally never came up in connection with it. That had to piss him off, for sure.

I suppose he believed that if he found the Path of the Covenant men alive, still in hiding, he’d get them thrown in prison and finally receive the credit he had due.

Then again, if he wanted credit so badly, he could just contact the media and tell them he was the one who infiltrated the cult and handed all the damning evidence to the FBI eight years ago. None of the survivors, including me, would ever dispute that. Neither would the authorities. So why didn’t he just do that?

God, it was all so confusing. I was thinking in circles, unable to grasp anything properly. Perhaps I was losing my mind.

I jumped as a voice sounded from behind me. My heart raced and my skin instantly prickled with goosebumps, but when I turned around, I saw it was just the TV. It had switched on yet again.

There was a weather forecaster on the screen, pointing at a radar image. “Severe weather warnings have been issued for these parishes: Ascension, Assumption, Iberia, Iberville, St Martin, St Mary, St James, and eastern Lafourche. Expect high winds and heavy showers.”

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