Page 13 of Trapped

She lingered, pushing her luck because she wanted to take him in her arms and reassure him. And she had one more thing to do. Crossing the room, she opened the closet.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I’ll recognize you.” Quickly she stooped down, found his shoes, and stuck a small monitor under the flap where the tongue was attached.

“Everybody wears the same thing.”

She stood. “I see.” It was a nonsense reply. But it was the best she could do. “I’ll be back.”

“When?” he asked, like he thought the answer was going to be a lie.

“I can’t tell you exactly.”

“Sure.”

She pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to hold back the pain that twisted in her guts. She had known that this would be difficult. She’d had no idea what she was getting herself into. Certainly not emotionally.

She’d been so hopeful when she came in. Now she knew that she’d been feeling what she wanted to feel.

Seeing him again. Touching him. Kissing him. Lying to him. The combination was devastating.

Turning quickly, she opened the door.

She didn’t look back, but she knew that every fiber of Cash’s attention was focused on her.

Thankfully, the hallway was empty. She exited quickly, then sprinted down the corridor.

###

When the door closed, Cash stood with his hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to charge down the corridor after Sophia. And he wasn’t even sure why. Did he want to shake her? Scream at her? Beg for her help? Probably he couldn’t even catch her. Because of the damn leg.

She was right about that. He couldn’t move fast. So, what was she saying about the route out? It wasn’t the elevator that he remembered.

Was he remembering it wrong? Or maybe they couldn’t use the elevator, and he was going to have to climb an endless stairway. Well, good luck with that!

He clenched his right hand into a fist and pounded it against his left palm, frustration surging through him.

He didn’t know whether to trust her or go find the guards and tell them somebody had broken into this place.

No. He canceled that thought. He didn’t want her to get hurt.

For old times’ sake? Or because she’d come here, and they’d immediately gotten close again. Physically close.

She could have been faking arousal. But he didn’t think so. Still, if he believed what she had told him, he was in deep kimchee.

Well, he’d already been thinking that. Apparently, he’d decided not to take his damn pills.

He sat down on the side of the bed, leaning over and cradling his head in his hands.

Sophia had accomplished two things during her brief stay. She had brought back buried memories. And she’d made him think about this place. And about the people. But those impressions were still vague. And he could barely remember anything besides this room. He must have been walking around like a zombie. A chemically induced zombie.

He felt a cold chill go through him. What was he taking, exactly? Was that why his memories were like Swiss cheese? And skipping one pill was making them better? Or had he skipped more?

He couldn’t remember. But that still left the question of Sophia.

Friend or foe?

He didn’t have enough information to figure it out.

---