Page 142 of His Juliet

A brush of fur against my back told me Queenie was tucked away behind me. I willed her to stay quiet and out of sight. Would they take her away from me?

The younger woman looked to be my age. She attached a hose to a spigot on the wall and started filling the tub. The other woman, who was maybe in her forties, started untying me from the chair.

“Please.” My voice was hoarse. “Please help me.”

She murmured in soft Albanian, her touches gentle. Tears dripped down my cheeks and gratitude washed through me. How fucked up was it that these women could be here to kill me and I wasgratefulbecause I was so desperate to not be alone?

The rope slackened and I could finally move my arms. The second I did, I regretted it. A scream escaped my mouth as my arms were engulfed in a fiery pain that felt like being stabbed by thousands of needles. The women massaged the blood back into my limbs, and I clenched my jaw shut as sobs racked my chest.

When the pain finally subsided enough for me to open my eyes, Queenie had made her way to my lap. She perched on my thigh, eyes fixed on me. In the light, she was beautiful—all black except for four perfect white sock markings on each paw. But she was so small and skinny. The only cat I’d spent any time around was the fat bodega cat who lived right by my old apartment. Was Queenie getting enough to eat? Her fur was soft and clean, though, and I could pet her now with my hands free, which seemed to make her very happy.

I scooped her up, clutching her to my chest while the women watched with surprise. The light vibration of Queenie’s purr brought more tears to my eyes. She deserved so much better than being stuck in this horrible place with me.

I flinched when the women put their hands on me, but instead of grabbing for Queenie, they carefully helped me stand. My legs wobbled and black spots appeared in my vision, probably from the lack of food, water, and sleep. They gestured at the bath and pointed at my clothes—the pajamas I’d been wearing when I was kidnapped. My fear of being exposed warred with my desire to be clean. My skin was covered in dried sweat and dirt.

I nodded, because what else could I do?

As they stripped me, I retreated to the back of my mind, entering that numb, dissociated state that had protected me so many times. It wasn’t my clothes they were removing. It wasn’t my body lowering in the too-cold water. All of this was happening to someone else.

Time distorted and twisted as I floated further away from my body and this place. I blinked and I was out of the tub, wrapped in a huge blanket, with Queenie in my arms. Then I was back in the chair, this time dressed in a plain black dress that matched the ones the women were wearing.

My mind glitched again, and they were feeding me. A cup was held to my lips, and I gulped down the offered water.

I whimpered when they moved my arms behind my back and re-tied them, but they left enough slack that I could move them a bit more than before.

Warm hands cupped my face. The woman’s blurry face was inches from my face. She leaned in and kissed my brow.

The next time I blinked my eyes open, they were gone and I wondered if I’d imagined it all.

* * *

The young woman was back,carrying a brown paper bag and bottle of water. She untied my wrists and handed me the bag while I rolled my stiff shoulders.

She pulled something from her dress pocket and set it down on the floor. It was a small can of… cat food? Relief rushed through me, and I put Queenie down next to it. She started eating right away, devouring the entire can in mere minutes.

“Thank you,” I choked out. “Thank you so much.”

The woman took my hand and squeezed it. The harsh ceiling light illuminated a bruise covering the side of her face. I traced a gentle finger over it and she averted her gaze.

“They hurt you.”

A sad smile was her only response.

She opened the bottle of water for me and pulled food out of the bag—three fluffy rolls and an apple.

She sat on the floor, gently petting Queenie and keeping me company while I ate.

* * *

“Juliet.”A light slap on my face startled me to consciousness.

“Focus,” the voice hissed. I’d drifted off again.

Water trickled down my throat and I swallowed. My throat ached from how dry it was, and my intense hunger had turned to nausea. I gasped when I finished the water, finally finding the strength to crack open my heavy eyes.

The older woman from before stood in front of me. She held a lantern, which provided the only light source in the dark cell.

“Juliet, we don’t have much time. I need you to listen to me. Nod if you understand.”

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