I don’t know which part is stronger.
“What’s this all about, Wreck?” the guy leading Tanya asks.
My captor doesn’t bother to answer, staring straight ahead as if not hearing.
We approach a small wooden shack and the roamer leading Tanya takes her inside. I begin to follow, but Wreck yanks me back, and I stop. The second guy exits the shack and locks the door.
“Why couldn’t we just kill them?” he asks my captor. “What are you planning to do with this girl?”
“That’s none of your damn concern,” Wreck answers sternly.
“Tartis won’t like this one bit,” the guy warns.
“I don’t care what he likes.”
The roamer frowns, obviously irritated, but doesn’t risk arguing further.
“We should at least report all this to Tartis,” he suggests.
“I’ll take care of it,” Wreck gives him a hard look. “Go on now, get lost.”
Cursing quietly, the guy leaves.
Wreck turns to face me, flashing a devious grin, “Let’s go, sweetie. Time for the fun part.”
He pulls me roughly forward, leading further into the darkness, and I begin to shake. I stagger along on weak legs, wondering what I might do to free myself. I can’t fight this guy. I can’t even scream because my throat is clenched so tightly I can hardly breathe. And nobody would help me anyway, even if I did manage to scream.
What is he planning to do to me? I ask myself. What does he want?
I vividly remember Gabriel dragging me inside the mansion, and the memory makes the skin on my neck crawl. Not again, I think, please not again.
We approach another old shack and my captor pushes me inside through a small door. I stagger several feet forward in complete darkness, realizing that I’ve just stepped inside the place where I may very likely die. Wreck follows me inside, shutting the door behind. He lights an oil lamp placed on the floor. The dim glow illuminates the uneven floorboards and walls of the shack. There’s nothing inside, except a large rusty chain attached to the floor with a metal collar on the end. Wreck locks the collar around my neck as if I’m a dog.
“Sit,” he orders.
I plop down beside a wall. He stands a few moments, thinking, then kneels in front of me. I sit unmoving, my face lowered, watching him in my peripheral vision. I can’t distinguish his facial features because of the thick layer of black and white paint covering his face. I can’t even determine how old he might be.
Wreck turns Gabriel’s knife in his hands, touching the stones on the handle.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I look up.
His eyes are light gray and glossy, and there’s something psychotic in his gaze.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
Giving him my name can’t really hurt, but providing any information about myself is like giving away part of me. I remain quiet.
“C’mon. It’s a real simple question. What’s your name?”
I don’t answer.
“Really?” he grins. “Do you think that’s a smart choice? Think you’re immortal?” He raises the knife to eye level, his grin changing into a snarl. “There’s plenty of different ways to kill a person. I do hope you realize I’m proficient in all of them. I could kill you in a split second or do it real slow. Which would you prefer?”
I stare into his eyes, willing my teeth not to chatter. I try to think of anything I might do, any possible way I could escape, but nothing comes to mind. I feel scared and cornered. I realize nobody will help me.
“Answer me!” he shouts, leaning in and placing the blade on my neck just above the metal collar. “What’s your name? I’ll hurt you real bad, if you don’t start talking.”
He glares at me, his face inches away from mine. I can feel his hot breath on my skin. I think of headbutting him, but it wouldn’t work right now. I can’t move with the sharp knife pressing against my neck.
“Is anybody home?” Wreck waves his free hand in front of my eyes. “I’m holding a knife at your throat in case you hadn’t noticed.” He pauses. “You don’t care? Seriously?”
I freeze up. I know I must say something but can’t will myself to speak.
Wreck takes a deep breath and shuffles back a couple feet away. He places the knife on the floor.
He says, “All right then. Let’s start over. I’ll begin.” He stretches his lips into an exaggerated friendly smile. “My name is Kris. But you may call me Wreck, that’s what everybody around here calls me anyway. Don’t ask me why, folks are real strange in this village. So what’s your name? Who are you?”
Who am I? I ask myself. I don’t have an answer for that. But I do realize that I’m not the type of person who can survive in this situation. I’m too frightened and weak. I guess I’m just a victim. But I do know of somebody who might stand a chance to live until morning, somebody strong and courageous.
Why not become her? Why not pretend to be someone I loved and admired?
“Amethyst,” I say, straightening my back and tilting my chin the way she did. “But you may call me Amy.”
“See how easy that was?” Wreck smirks. “Pleased to meet you, Amy.”
I don’t return his smile. I’m not overly pleased to meet him.
“You’re an escaped slave, no?”
“Maybe.”
“What kinda slave?”
“What do you care?”
“C’mon,” he sighs. “I need to know everything about you.”
I don’t say anything. I can almost envision myself
