Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 120995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
That was nothing.
That was livable.
The last thing she told me was not.
By the time she finished, I wrapped arms around my womb and fought the rageful tears threatening to flow.
I thought I was done hearing things that could hurt me.
I was wrong.
So wrong.
Alrik, it seemed, had scarred me so bad internally, he’d ruined any chances of me conceiving. The items he’d used, the incorrect lubrications he’d smeared, had turned me infertile.
I can never get pregnant.
I didn’t need those terrible injections he gave me. I didn’t need to ever worry about contraception again.
I was barren. Useless. Empty.
I’d never even thought about children until the moment I was told I could never have any.
It was as if a dream I’d never dreamt turned out to be a reality I wanted more than anything. Only to be told I had to remain in this nightmare.
It was surreal.
It was unthinkable.
It was as if Alrik had reached from the grave and stolen yet more from me.
I was left alone for a time to process yet another tragedy, and by the time I was escorted back to the police station, I had vowed an oath never to think about it.
To forget how it felt to be told I could never have something I suddenly desperately wanted and get used to the idea without having a panic attack. Who cared if my femininity had been ripped to shreds by a monster I wanted to murder all over again?
I was still alive.
Still here.
Still winning.
Luckily, the interrogation kept my mind on other things.
Just like yesterday, my treatment was unlike any of the police shows I’d seen. There was no good cop, bad cop. No slamming hands on metal tables or being peppered with hardnosed questions. Just the same courteous kindness and respect that I still couldn’t get used to.
My sundress wasn’t warm enough against the station’s vapid air-conditioning, and somewhere along the line, someone had given me a cosy knitted cream jumper that acted as a hug as I huddled deeper and deeper into my chair.
I’d been fed, showered, given a new pair of shoes, and the bruises on my skin had darkened to a nice mosaic that even Alrik would’ve been proud of.
The first part of the day’s questioning hadn’t been easy because I honestly had no answers.
Where had I been kept?
How had I been taken there?
Where was the place where I was sold?
All I could tell them was my cell had been a white mansion on a hill, I’d been taken by private plane, and I’d been sold to men with paper mache masks at an event called the QMB.
Other questions were dangerously personal.
Who had saved me and where had they gone?
Why hadn’t I contacted my mother the moment I was free?
Who had sewed up my tongue after what had happened to me?
Those, I hedged.
I refused to answer with the truth and instead gave half-starts and nonsense-rambles.
I didn’t mention Elder’s name once.
There was no way I would get him into trouble—especially after everything he’d done for me. I merely told them a good Samaritan with money had found me, taken me from my master, and paid for my medical upkeep.
I definitely didn’t tell them about pulling the trigger and shooting Alrik or the god-awful sound of Darryl’s neck snapping in Elder’s strong hands.
Those were secrets for a reason, and I protected them with all my might.
Just like the unmentionable that I was no longer able to have a son or daughter.
Other questions I threw myself wholeheartedly into.
What was my mother’s name?
Her date of birth?
Anything I could give them to find her faster?
By afternoon, a Caesar salad was delivered, and I was left alone to eat while my answers were undoubtedly processed in their system.
I expected more of the same after eating, but Carlyn arrived, sombre and strained. The usual sweetness on her face had been replaced with stark tension.
Wait…what’s happened?
I shifted in my chair, pulling my jumper tight around me.
Her eyes pinched as she sat in the chair in front of me, resting the file she carried on the table. “Hello, Tasmin.”
I jolted.
Partly from that name still not belonging to me and mostly because her tone filled me with dread. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
For an insane moment, I wished she’d call me Pim.
I hated the name Pimlico for so many reasons, but I felt more in tune with that girl than this new imposter pretending to be Tasmin. I needed to find some courage even if it came from false places. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Officer Grey spread slightly trembling fingers over the file. “I have some news.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the logo on the top of the paperwork followed by a grainy photo of a woman I didn’t think I’d ever see again.
My mother.
Shakes took hold of me with a cruelty I couldn’t deny. I wanted to demand she tell me everything, but once again, muteness became my shield.