Sempre (Forever) (2 page)

“What kind of things?” she asked when her mama trailed off.

“The kind of things I hope you never know about,” she said. “People will trick you. They'll lie to you.”

Haven didn't like where the conversation was going. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to know,” she said. “You have to run.”

Haven stared at her in disbelief. “Run?”

“Yes, tonight. There's more to life than this, and I'm afraid of what's gonna happen if you stay here, baby girl.”

“But I can't run, Mama. I don't even know what’s out there!”

“There are people out there that can help. There's no one here to protect you anymore.”

“You can.”

“No, I can't,” she said, a pained look on her face. “You heard them. You have to get away from here while you still have a chance.”

Tears formed in Haven’s eyes. “But I can't leave you.”

“You have to,” she said. “It's the only way. You have to get away from here, find someone and tell them who you are. They'll—”

“Save you?” Haven asked, finishing her sentence. “Will they come here, Mama?”

“Maybe.” There was a spark of something in her expression.
Was it hope?
Haven had lost hope long ago, but she wondered if her mama still had it.

“Then I'll do it for you.”

After nightfall, when Haven thought no one would look for her until morning, she quietly slipped away. She ran for the world outside of the ranch, determined to find help so she'd never have to return.

She realized, though, as she woke up in the musty basement, that she’d failed.

Haven lay there for a while, in-and-out of consciousness, before the sound of a leaky pipe captured her attention. She managed to get to her knees, ignoring the pain as she crawled across the hard floor. Emotion overcame her as she eagerly opened her mouth, drops of rusty water falling onto her dry tongue.

She collapsed onto the ground after a moment, the water cooling her feverish skin. Closing her eyes, she savored the sensation as she slipped back into the darkness.

A clanking jolted her awake sometime later, a blinding light assaulting her. Cringing, she noticed the door was open and someone stood a few feet away.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Mama?”

Heart thumping wildly, she realized as they approached that it wasn't her mama. It was a man with dark hair slicked back on his head and olive skin, wearing black pants and a white button-up shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and she stared in shock at the silver gun holstered to his belt.

Her thoughts were frantic. “Are you the police?”

The man knelt beside her, setting a small black bag on the floor. He didn't answer the question but gave her a bemused smile as he held a bottle of water to her lips. He poured some into her mouth before pressing his palm to her forehead.

Haven closed her eyes, exhausted, and got lost in the silence until the man spoke. His voice was smooth, the tone gentle. She opened her eyes again, unsure of what he'd said, but recoiled when she met a hostile glare. Behind the stranger stood someone she knew well. It was the Boogieman that lurked in the shadows, waiting for his moment to pounce. Michael, or
Master
as he preferred to be called, glared at her with his dark eyes, the whites of them yellow. His lip was curled in a sneer, his wiry hair graying around the ears.

“Relax, child,” the stranger said. “It's going to be all right.”

She looked at him, wondering if she could believe that, and went rigid when she noticed he'd pulled out a needle. She whimpered, trying to move away, but he grabbed a hold of her and jabbed it into her back.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said, letting go and handing the offending little weapon to Michael. “I'm only trying to help.”

“Help?” Her mama told her there were people out there to help, but she'd also warned her some of them would lie. Haven wasn't positive which category this man fell into, but she was leaning toward the latter.

“Yes, help,” the man said as he stood back up. “You need to rest. Save your energy.”

He walked away, and her master followed behind him without a word. Haven lay there, too weary to make sense of it, and her eyes started to close again when she heard their voices in the distance.

“She looks horrible!” All trace of kindness was gone from the man’s words. “How the hell could you let this happen?”

“I didn't mean for it to,” Master Michael said. “I didn't know the girl would try to run!”

“This started way before yesterday, Antonelli, and you know it! You should've been watching her!”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“You should be.” There was silence again as Haven started to slip away, but before sleep took her, she heard the man speak once more. “I'll still give you what you want for her, but just know I'm not happy about this. At all.”

Haven awoke much later, still on the concrete floor. She grimaced, every inch of her stiff and aching. She struggled to sit up as a throat cleared nearby, and she glanced toward the door to see the stranger once again. “How do you feel?”

She wrapped her arms around herself as he moved toward her. “Okay.”

His voice was calm but firm. “The truth, please.”

“Sore,” she admitted. “My head hurts.”

“I'm not surprised.” He knelt down and reached toward her, the movement making her flinch. “I'm not going to hit you, child.”

He felt her forehead and grasped her chin, surveying her face. “Do you know who I am?” She shook her head, although something about him struck her as vaguely familiar. She thought she might’ve seen him from a distance before, one of the visitors they were kept away from over the years. “My name’s Dr. Vincent DeMarco.”

“Doctor?” They'd never gotten medical attention before, even for the severest of problems.

“Yes, I’m a doctor,” he said, “but I also happen to be an associate of the Antonellis. I arrived after they discovered you were missing. You suffered a minor concussion, and you're dehydrated, but there's no permanent damage that I can see. You're lucky you were found when you were. You could've died out there.”

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach, a small part of her wishing she would have. It had to be better than being killed at the hands of a monster.

Dr. DeMarco looked at his watch. “Do you think you can walk? We should leave soon.”

“We?”

“Yes, you're going to be staying with me now.”

She shook her head, cringing as the pain intensified. “But I can't leave my mama. She needs me!”

“Maybe you should've thought about that before you ran away.”

She tried to explain, her words sluggish. “I did! They were going to kill me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, child.”

“No, I don't.”

“Yes, you do,” he said. “In fact, you have one right now.”

“You're giving me a choice?”

“Of course I am. You can stand and come with me.”

“Or?”

He shrugged. “Or you stay where you are, and I’ll leave without you. But before you decide, tell me something. You ran away because you thought they were going to kill you. What do you think they'll do to you now?”

She stared at her dirt-caked feet. “So I either go with you, or I die? What kind of choice is that?”

“One I suppose you won't like making,” he said, “but it is a choice, nonetheless.”

Tense silence lingered between them. Haven didn't like this man. He was manipulating her. “What do you want me for?” She was used to being punished for speaking out of turn, but she had nothing to lose. What could he do, kill her? Get in line, mister.

“I never said I wanted you. I’m a busy man, though, so I can use someone to cook and clean.”

“You can't pay someone?” She regretted the question immediately and started backtracking. “At least it would be legal then. I think this is illegal. Isn't it?”

Truthfully, she wasn't sure.

“Yes, I suppose it technically is, but—”

Before he could finish, shouts rang out above them in the house. Haven flinched at the loud thump, tears stinging her eyes when she realized Master Michael was hurting Miss Clara.

Dr. DeMarco sighed. “Look, I'm not going to stand around all night, waiting. If you don't want my help, so be it. Stay here and die for all I care.”

Haven climbed to her feet, muttering, “Why me?” She wanted to believe there was a point to it all, but she wasn't sure anymore.

He gave a slight shake of the head. ”I wish I knew.”

The soles of Haven’s feet burned as Dr. DeMarco led her out of the basement. “I'm not chasing you if you run,” he said. Her eyes darted to his gun, and he laughed dryly. “I'm not going to shoot you, either.”

“You're not?”

“No,” he said. “I'll shoot your mother instead.”

She gasped as he let go of her arm. “Please don't hurt her!”

“Stay where you are and I won't have to,” he said, walking away. “I'll be back.”

Although her legs were weak and she felt dizzy, Haven refused to move even an inch as he disappeared inside the house. The sky glowed bright orange as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting distorted shadows along the desert ground in front of her. She didn't know what day it was, no clue as to how much time had passed.

She scanned what she could see of the property, searching for some sign of her mama. She wanted to call out to her, to find her. She wanted to ask what she was supposed to do.

But her mama never appeared. The sun disappeared, and out of the darkness came Dr. DeMarco once again. He didn’t look at her as he opened a door to a black car. “Time to go.”

Timidly, Haven slid into the stiff passenger seat. He slammed the car door as she looked around. The harsh stench of fresh leather in the confined space made her feel like a weight was pressing on her chest. She had trouble breathing, struggling to stay calm when he climbed into the car beside her. Dr. DeMarco frowned as he reached into the backseat for his black bag. He pulled out another needle and stuck her without a word.

Blackness came quickly.

*  *  *  *

The small road cut through the dense forest, the painted lines so faded it appeared to be built for one. A highway constructed years ago diverted the traffic from the area, so the only people who navigated it were locals and those who lost their way. The grass alongside the road hadn’t been cut in months, the massive trees severely overgrown.

Haven lay slumped over in the passenger seat, dizzy as she watched the trees whipping past in the darkness. “What time is it?”

Dr. DeMarco pointed at a clock on the dashboard, the glowing blue numbers indicating it was a quarter after twelve. Midnight, she assumed, since it was so dark. She'd been out for hours.

“I didn't mean to sedate you for so long,” he said. “I didn’t take into account that you’d never had medication before, so your body’s intolerant. You ended up sleeping through the entire flight.”

“In an airplane?” It was her first time flying, or even being near a plane, for that matter. She wasn't sure whether to be glad it was over or disappointed she’d missed it. “Where are we now?”

“Almost home.”

Home
. Haven didn't know what that meant.

“Before we get there, I want to make something clear,” Dr. DeMarco said. “You're going to have some normalcy living with us but don't mistake my kindness for weakness. I expect your loyalty, and if you betray my trust in any way, there will be consequences. As long as you remember that, we won't have any problems.” He paused. “I want you to be comfortable with us, though, so you can speak freely as long as you're respectful.”

“I'd never disrespect you, sir.”

“Never say never. Sometimes we don't realize when we're being disrespectful.” She looked at him, wondering what he meant by that, but he didn't take time to explain. “Now, do you have any questions about anything else?”

“You said ‘us’. Do you have a family?”

“Yes, I do. I have two sons, ages seventeen and eighteen.”

“Oh.” She was on the verge of panicking again. She hadn't been around many people her age before and never had any contact with teenage boys. Glancing at him, she noticed the plain gold band gleaming from his left ring finger. Married? “And your wife, sir? Their mama?”

The moment the question came from her lips, Dr. DeMarco's demeanor shifted. His posture stiffened and his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned as white as bone, conversation ceasing in an instant.

So much for speaking freely
.

The car turned off the pavement and drove down a bumpy dirt path that cut through the dense trees. They came to a clearing, and Haven gaped at the house that came into sight. The old plantation home stood three-stories high, with enormous columns spanning the entire height of the structure. The white paint was fading, tinting the house a dull gray color. A large porch wrapped around the first floor, with smaller porches running the length of the second and third.

Dr. DeMarco parked between a smaller black car and a slightly bigger silver one, and Haven stepped out cautiously, taking in her surroundings. All she could see were trees in the darkness, a porch light making the gravel faintly visible beneath her bare feet. Dr. DeMarco grabbed his luggage before heading toward the front door, and she limped behind with empty hands, having nothing of her own to carry. She'd never owned much, all of her clothes ragged hand-me-downs she'd left behind.

After stepping onto the porch, Dr. DeMarco pressed his finger to a small panel on a rectangular keypad. It beeped before he opened the door. She stepped into the house, pausing as he closed the door and punched some numbers into an identical keypad on the inside.

A green light flashed as a lock clicked into place, the door automatically securing itself. “Everything’s wired into a computer network, and there are keypads at all the exits,” Dr. DeMarco explained. “It’s for security. The house is impenetrable, the glass bulletproof and windows nailed shut. You either need a code or fingerprint authorization to get in or out.”