Page 53 of Amnesty

“What about her real name?”

“She doesn’t know her real name.” I paused. “Do you?”

“It’s Lily.”

Lily. Like the flower. It was beautiful. I could barely digest it, though, any of this. Swallowing past the massive lump in my throat, I asked, “How do you know her name?”

“We’re sisters,” Sadie replied. “Well, wewere.”

I had no idea what that meant. Sadie didn’t have any sisters. She was an only child. She was probably confused, dehydrated. Who the fuck knew what else?

Shit. Lily might not even be Amnesia’s actual name.

“Come on. We need to go,” I said urgently. I could ask questions later. Our safety was more important.

“Go?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving.”

She seemed confused. Her hesitation was something I wasn’t expecting. I shifted on my feet, gazing up at the opening. “I’ll take you home, back to Lake Loch. People are going to be so happy to see you.”

“My parents,” she murmured.

My heart broke. Sadie wouldn’t see her parents. Hadn’t she endured enough? But now she had to be told they died in a horrible crash caused by her own father.

Now was not the time for that. I wasn’t sure when the time would be, but it wasn’t now.

I went forward and took her hand. She glanced down to where I held her. “Come on.”

“I can’t go,” she said, digging her bare feet into the floor.

“What?” I spun around. “Why?”

I honestly thought she’d run out of this cave so fast it would make my head spin.

Her voice dropped low, the tone warning. “He’ll come back.”

“Which is exactly why we need to go now.” I pressed, giving her hand a little tug.

She yanked it out of mine, wrapping her arms around her middle. “He said I couldn’t leave. He said I had to stay.”

“He’s a psycho!” I roared, my patience snapping.

She wilted, and I cussed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, contrite. “I didn’t mean to yell. It just… it makes me crazy to see you here like this, knowing you’ve been tortured all these years.”

“How long have I been here?” she asked. “I tried to keep track…”

I pressed my lips together, then replied. “A long time, sweetheart.”

She nodded. “You look like a man now.”

“I won’t hurt you,” I said, thinking maybe the fact I looked like a man scared her. After all, she’d suffered extensively at the hands of a man.

“I know,” she said, but there was a hint of doubt in her tone. “But he said I was his. He said I belonged here, with him. I’m not allowed to leave.”

She was brainwashed.

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