Page 200 of Keep This Promise
“Here is the device we keep on and use to record anything said in here. It can’t be used in court, but it helps us piece things together later if we need to.”
I accept what looks like an ordinary pen. “Whatever you need. Do I try to talk to her?”
Brielle shrugs. “Sometimes it’s best not to. I usually introduce myself and offer what I can. It’s really a crap shoot if they respond. We aren’t too sure if they’re on something either.”
There is a long, painful wail from the girl in the back room, and both of us turn to look. Brielle shifts, and I nod. “Go, I’ll do what I can for her.”
She hurries off, and I walk toward the girl at the end. I sit, my back against the wall, not speaking while the young girl, who is covered in dirt, rocks slightly. After a few moments, she looks over, and I smile softly. I don’t know how to do this, but these girls came here afraid and lost, so the least I can do is sit with her. She looks to me, back at her knees, and back again a few times. Once her eyes meet mine for longer than a heartbeat, I speak. “My name is Sophie. Would you be able to tell me your name?” She shakes her head, rocking a little faster. “That’s all right. We don’t have to talk. Is it okay if I sit with you for a while?” She doesn’t say it is, but she doesn’t shake her head either, so I take that as permission. “If you need anything, just tell me.”
For a long while, we sit like that—her slowly rocking herself and me a silent offer of support. It isn’t until another scream comes from the back that her fear-filled eyes meet mine, tears starting to pool. “She’s my friend.”
“What is her name?” I ask just above a whisper.
“We don’t have names.”
I know that’s not true, but I decide not to pry. “What are you called then?”
She twists her fingers together. “Two eighteen.”
“And your friend in the back? Does she have a number?”
“One seventy-three.”
“What about your other friends?”
She shakes her head. “Didn’t give her a number yet. The other is two forty-nine.”
I push down the bile in my throat at the fact that these girls have so clearly been stripped of their identities. The number part makes me wonder if they’re random or in order.
The girl closes her eyes and rests her forehead on her knees. After a moment, she tilts her face just enough for her to see me. “Where’s your accent from?”
“I’m from London.”
“What’s it like?”
I tell her a bit about my home. The history, the sights, and my favorite places. I describe what it was like to walk around Piccadilly at night and all about the little shops in Covent Garden. If I try really hard, I could pretend I’m actually there. I can see the cobblestone street and smell my favorite bakery where I would take Eden for a cookie.
The sounds of people talking as they make their way around fills my ears. My hand tightens, remembering Theo pulling me toward the tube as he dragged me to the next thing he wanted to explore.
He was always adventurous that way. I liked to have a plan, and he wanted to let the wind take him somewhere new.
“It sounds magical,” she says. “I close my eyes a lot and imagine being anywhere else.”
“And where do you see yourself going?”
She sighs, head back against the wall. “I’m usually with my sister in our corn field. I hated it before, but now it’s warm and bright. I can feel the sun and hear the sound of her laughter as she chases me through the rows. I go there and stay for as long as I can. I miss it, and I don’t want to be here anymore.”
My chest aches for her. I don’t know anything about the geography of the States or where she’s from, but I understand the feeling of home.
Hopefully what she says will help Emmett, so I ask another question.
“Where were you escaping from?” I ask hesitantly.
Her eyes gloss over as she looks at me, but then her lids lower and a tear falls. “Hell. We’ve been in hell.”
ChapterTwenty
HOLDEN
