Page 4 of Amethyst

Jenna wouldn’t run away.

I gulp loudly.

I can’t bring the words out of my throat.

“We’ll find her,” Mary says. “Dick and Susanna won’t stop until they find their little girl.”

I stand there. I feel nothing. Nothing except shock. The plastic container holding Jenna’s corsage tumbles to the ground and pops open.

The flowers tumble through the iron grate covering a window well.

Gone.

Like Jenna. Gone.

“Do you want to come in?” Mary’s voice cracks.

I don’t reply.

I’m frozen. Frozen in time.

Then I stand straight, meet Mary’s gaze. “I’ll find her. I will find if it’s the last thing I do.”

2

JENNA

We all lost track of time on the island.

We were too busy fighting to stay alive.

We found out later that the men weren’t allowed to kill us. But they could pretty much do whatever else they wanted.

Finding out seven years had passed when we were rescued was a surprise. A big one. Time seemed suspended in captivity. Days morphed into weeks, into months, and even into years. Nothing changed, yet everything changed daily. Each day became something to get through. Something we tried not to think about.

So realizing it had been seven years?

It was a revelation.

I didn’t want to stay for the intensive therapy the Wolfe family offered all of us at a retreat center on the island itself, but it was the best care available, and I knew I needed it if I was going to truly heal.

So I chose to stay. I, along with the others, rebuilt ourselves, healed, learned how to feel again.

As much as we were capable of feeling.

A year later, I’m back home.

Home at my parents’ house, and still in weekly therapy. I may well be in therapy for the rest of my life.

I learned a lot during the intensive year on the island. I learned how to look forward and not back. I learned that what happened to me was not my fault, that I was never to blame for it.

I was a victim, but now I must be a victor.

I missed college at Dartmouth. I missed law school, which was my dream.

Had I not been taken, I would be an attorney by now.

I’m not an attorney, and I don’t think I’ll ever be one. A lot changed during those years. Even more changed during the year of intensive therapy.

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