Page 41 of Captive

“You guys can tell Hawthorne. Her ex’s name is Connor Connair. He’s a trust fund baby, though, so he’s not going to be easy to get ahold of.” Letting them know he’s a trust fund baby lets them know what kind of circles I was near growing up. My parents weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor, either.

Let’s just say we were closer to the one-percenters than the rest. My parents, unlike most everyone in our old neighborhood, were self-made, and they enjoyed working. After everything with Nikki and their separation, they drowned themselves in their work even more, splitting the company up.

I don’t miss that life, but my parents never cut me off, either. I might not have talked to them in years, but they did pay for my life up until very recently.

“Trust fund baby,” Royal repeats, staring hard at me. “Does that mean you’re a trust fund baby, too?”

“And if I am? You gonna think differently of me?”

“No,” he says. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as one, though. I ain’t gonna complain. Trust fund or not, you’re one of us.”

“Don’t worry,” I deadpan. “I don’t think I’m as rich as your Benefactor, if that’s what you’re worried about. Mommy and Daddy don’t really talk to each other anymore, and I haven’t spoken to them in years. You guys have nothing to worry about when it comes to little old me.”

Ezra tells me, “You’re always doing that, putting yourself down. You make them out like jokes, but… I don’t think they’re really jokes. You shouldn’t do that.”

Hmm. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism I picked up after discovering the truth about my sister’s suicide. Maybe, just maybe I blamed myself, even to this day, that I should’ve noticed something was wrong with her and taken it more seriously. If I had, who knows? She could still be alive today.

It’s easier to blame myself rather than the girl who took a knife to her wrist.

“I’ll work on it,” I say, even though I’m not sure I can.

We sit there for a while, the three of us side by side on the couch, as the TV show plays on. I should be pissed off at their intervention, at the way they practically forced me to talk about my past, but I’m not. It’s bizarre, but I actually do feel a little better, and that’s not something I thought I’d ever think.

I became a different person that day, a person carrying loads of trauma. That trauma rebirthed me, made me born anew, and for so long I thought that was it. That was my new life: stalking, hunting, and practicing on bad men in the hopes I’ll get good enough to kill the one asshole who fucked it all up to begin with.

And then I turned into something else when I realized Connor is simply a symptom of the disease, and that the disease itself will never be fully eradicated from this world.

I never thought I’d find myself here, or anywhere close to here. I never thought I would find myself surrounded by not one, not two, but three men who actually understand me and my need for vengeance, three men who agree the trash needs to be taken out.

I like them, as stupid as it might be. I really do. They get me, and I get them. It’s almost like…

Well, it’s almost like we were meant to find each other. Like we’re four parts of the same whole. Like we’re soulmates.

Chapter Eighteen – Abby

I can’t sleep. I don’t know if I can’t sleep because today was one hell of a day or if it’s due to the other thought I had that rocked my world. The soulmates thing. Never thought that would be something I’d think, but here I am.

Here I am.

I lay in bed for a good long while that night, tossing and turning. I even made some sleepy tea Ezra swears by, but it didn’t help. I’m exhausted after reliving my past, but at the same time, I’m wide awake and way too alert.

I bet Royal would welcome me into his bed, if I went to him. Ezra, on the other hand, might not. Hawthorne? I’m not sure whether he would or not.

These men. I might not have known them for long, but we aren’t strangers. It’s like I was subconsciously waiting to be found, and now that they found me, everything is clicking into place. I feel at home here, with them, even if I started out here as a captive of circumstance.

It’s crazy. Crazy but true. Ridiculous in every way, but still true.

I spend some time, as I lay there in bed, thinking about what Royal and Ezra told me. They probably only shared their stories to get me to open up, but their plan worked. Now I know the truth about all three of them, and they know the truth about me. It brings us together in a way nothing else could.

How messed up is that? We are four peas in a fucked-up pod.

Now I get why my earlier suggestions of physical stress relief bothered Ezra so much. He probably closed himself off right when it happened, and the thing is, you can’t blame the guy.

I sigh to myself as I roll over yet again. It’s strange; I felt better before I crawled into this bed in the dark, but now that I’m alone with my thoughts, with nothing to stare at but the shadows, a heaviness has settled upon me, just as it always does.

Eventually I decide I might as well get up. Since I can’t sleep, I might as well do something. Maybe a late-night workout or I’ll camp out on the couch downstairs and marathon Soulmate Island. There’s an episode every day, and with everything that’s been going on, I am so far behind.

Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.