Page 2 of Unspoken Promises

Father had people killed by his men. I saw it with my own eyes. Down in the basement that smelled like gunpowder and chlorine. His men told me I was ordered to watch what happens to people who disobey Father’s orders.

Anton told me I’m precious to those who keep me. He told me I’m prized. Valued. I think he hoped those comments would make me feel better about my whole life being controlled, but it only made me feel like a work of art. And not even a good one. A scribble on a canvas everyone overvalued just because one man decided it so.

Father.

Anton may have become warm over the years, but he never stopped warning me there were dangerous people watching. He warned me never to try to leave. I believed him becausehenever tried to leave.

Whoevertheywere couldn’t watch me in the library. Buttheywere such excellent teachers I knew how to cover my tracks.Theydidn’t even know that in my first week, I managed to hack the university’s database and get a new library card and student ID bearing the name of a woman who will have it all.

Freedom.

And more.

Ava Scott.She’s waiting for me to bring her to life on the outside.

I check my watch. Fifty-eight minutes. Anton is waiting. He’s not allowed in here without a student ID so after each hour, I need to check in. He’ll be tapping his toe.

My eyes are trained on the screen in front of me. I’ve done it. My plan is complete. Without a single trace, I won a job and a place to live. All I have to do is get out of our apartment tonight and get to Echo Valley.

I tear out the notes from a page in my journal and rip up the piece of paper I used for shorthand. I throw my backpack over my shoulder and toss the shreds of evidence in two different trash cans on my way out.

Anton is in his usual position, leaning against a wall, cross-armed. He never sits. He never reads a paper. Not even when I spend hours in this library. I’m surprised there aren’t Anton-shaped feet imprinted at the entrance.

We reunite and head toward the exit.

“So little Menace… Fruitful session?” he asks, breath smelling strong of the mints he devours.

I’ve always liked the way Anton smells. Clean. And like Drakkar Noir. He’s been wearing that same cologne since I’ve known him. A heavy feeling sits on my shoulders. I wish he could find love like I hope to. I bet some woman would love those smells, and he’s a pretty handsome guy.

Guilt rages through me. My heart pounds. “Yeah.” It’s all I can muster. Usually, I talk a lot. But now, any word that makes it to my tongue is nothing but a lie.

I hate I have to betray Anton to do this, but there’s no other way.

I change the subject to food which we discuss a lot because eating is one of the only things we do together for fun. Since being out in real life, I go to school, we watch movies, Anton trains me in the gym, and we go to the grocery store. We cook together.

“I feel like fish tonight,” I offer, trying to sound normal.

He’s so tuned in to me, as I am to him, after all these years together. Can he detect the change in me?

If he notices something he doesn’t flag it. “Fish tacos?”

I hang on to the straps on my backpack for support. “Always down for tacos.”

We get to the road, and as we do, I stop while he looks, and only when he decides it’s clear, he places his vigilant hand on my back and ushers me across preciously like he has since I was a child.

He breathes the summery autumn air in deeply. “You know, I think tacos are the best thing about Southern California.”

I suppose they are, seeing as neither Anton nor myself have left campus to stare at the ocean, ski in the mountains, pretend we’re on the face of the sun in the crackling heat of the Mojave. Sadness fills my every vein. Anton will probably never do these things, and maybe I will.

A stone forms in my throat, and when he talks about trying a new spice mix he saw at the store, all I can do is nod.

Later that night,I sneak into the living room that separates my room from Anton’s. It still smells of tilapia and smoked chipotle, the lingering scent of our quiet dinner together made stronger by a warm evening and Anton locking the windows up before bed. Like he always does.

My heart races, my pulse pounds in my neck; it’s impossible to swallow down the thick anticipation.

When we moved here from the compound, I couldn’t sleep, and Anton gave me sleeping pills. I’ve been saving those. Tonight, I crushed one and sprinkled it in the guacamole made extra spicy, only I was the one sweating when I wondered if it would taste bitter or if it would even work.

Now, hours later, staring at the door on the opposite side of the room, I struggle to stop my hands shaking. I only crushed one pill. Sleeping pills aren’t meant to be crushed. They release too quickly like that. I don’t want to hurt Anton. He’s a beast of a man. Six foot seven and pure muscle; he won’t die. Equally, would just one pill work? If he’s not knocked out, he will hear me. Despite how I’ve come to see him, Anton is no teddy bear.

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