"Santiago?" Her sleepy voice whispers from behind me.
I close my eyes, tempted to leave without a word. But I can't seem to move. I can't look at her. And I can't be away from her. She truly is the slowest, deadliest form of poison.
The silence stretches between us, until finally, she asks the question on her mind.
"Have you come to take your fill of me again?"
"No," I bite out.
Against my better judgment, I turn to face her, placing the candle on her nightstand. She's peeking up at me with tired eyes, hair strewed across her pillow like strands of silk. I reach out and smooth them away from her face, my dark mood casting a shadow as I study her.
"It's a shame what you’ve done.”
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"Just remember when you look upon yourself next week, loathing your own reflection in the mirror, you only have yourself to blame."
She flinches, yanking away from my touch as she curls into herself protectively. "What are you talking about?"
"I told you there would be punishment for your sins," I answer. "And it will be equal to your crime."
She chokes back a quiet sob and shakes her head, reaching out for my hand again. "Please don't be cruel. You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be this way."
"But it does." I pull my fingers from her grasp, feeling the loss of her warmth immediately. "You determined this course the day you decided to betray me."
I head for the door as she calls after me, desperation coloring her voice. "Please, just look at me. I know you want to. I know you are capable of listening, if you could just let go of this hatred for one minute—”
"Go to sleep," I command. "Your physical therapy begins tomorrow."
"Physical therapy?" she echoes in confusion.
I offer her one last fleeting glance.
"To ensure the safety of my child," I answer coldly.
13 Ivy
I don’t sleep after he leaves. It’s been four weeks since the poisoning. I only know because I start my period again. I don’t know how long I was in that cellar, but I guess I’ve been locked in here for at least two of those weeks.
I’m just glad I don’t have to ask for tampons. I’d hidden some in a tissue box the last time.
This morning when Antonia comes, she unlocks the closet door and chooses clothes for me, a pair of jeans and an oversized lilac sweater that feels luxuriously soft against my skin, especially after spending so much time naked. So much time feeling cold and alone, both in the cellar and in this room.
I eat my breakfast because she tells me the therapist Santiago hired is already here, but I’ll only be allowed to see him if I eat. I will add blackmail to Santiago’s crimes against me. I wonder if it was Mercedes who did it. Who got him to call someone. The look on her face when she got me into the bathroom and saw the bruises was one of shock. She asked me if her brother had done it. Her voice had sounded strange. I didn’t answer her. I let her have a good look instead and come up with her own answers. He’s a monster. But so is she. A moment of softness won’t dispel what I know. She is an ice queen.
“I’m ready,” I say to Antonia when I finish the last bite of toast. I wipe my mouth with the napkin, anxious to get out of my prison.
She smiles, pleased at the empty plate. “I’ll send someone in to clean this up. Let’s go see Dr. Hendrickson.”
I nod and follow her out, almost bouncing on my heels. I’m so excited to be free. I never want to enter that room again.
My balance is off, and I have to be more careful than usual on the stairs, so I don’t let go of the banister. Antonia leads me to a room I’ve not been in before. It’s large and sparsely furnished and, most importantly, it’s bright. Sunlight pours in from the clear-glass windows.
“Oh,” I start, my spirits lifting already at the brightness. I don’t even see the man sitting on the couch until he clears his throat, and I hear the sound of a cup placed on its saucer.
I turn to him, that smile fading. I don’t know this man, and the last IVI doctor I dealt with, Dr. Chambers, left me with a bad taste in my mouth.
“Good morning,” he says, smiling warmly and coming toward me. He’s middle-aged and dressed impeccably in an expensive suit. He’s wearing a gold wedding band, and I can see a Rolex watch peeking out from beneath his sleeve when he extends his arm once he’s a few feet from me. “I’m Dr. Hendrickson. You must be Ivy.”
I look at his hand in surprise. He's offering it to shake mine like we’re equals.
“Ivy,” Antonia urges when an awkward moment passes.
“Oh. Sorry. Yes. I’m Ivy,” I say, shaking his hand. What have those weeks in my prison done to me? Have I already forgotten how to be normal?
The doctor momentarily focuses on my right eye but then smiles at me. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Can I bring you more coffee, Doctor?”
“Oh, no thank you, Antonia,” he says, eyes still on me. “I’d like to get started.”
“All right. Ivy, can I bring you something?”
I turn to Antonia. “Um. No, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” With that, Antonia is gone, and I’m left alone with the doctor.
“Are you with IVI?” I ask first thing.
“IVI?” He raises his eyebrows.
“The Society.”
He pauses. “No, I’m not with any society,” he says, looking rather confused. He reaches into his pocket to take out a business card and hands it to me. “Your husband actually flew me in from California. I have my own practice there. I’m an otolaryngologist.”
I study the card, then look back up at him.
He must see my confusion now because he smiles. “Ear, nose, and
