The Writing Retreat(98)

The boxes in front of Daphne were suddenly swept away as if by a giant’s hand.

Daphne shrieked.

Lamia towered above her. Dried blood streaked her naked torso and breasts. She was too tall and Daphne realized she hovered nearly a foot off the floor.

Lamia’s eyes glittered, red like rubies. She grinned.

“Boo,” she said in Abigail’s sweet voice.





Chapter 38




“Wake up, babies!” Taylor’s voice cut through my sleep. I sat up slowly.

“Happy Last-Day-of-Retreat! You disgusting bitches get a special treat: a nice little bath.” Taylor set down a small water-filled tub in front of the door slot and pushed it through, following it with a handful of shampoos and soaps.

Chitra stood close behind, holding a second tray. Her skin was drawn and pale, almost gray. Her dark eyes were like pebbles at the bottom of a murky pond. She was utterly unrecognizable from the cheerful chef of a few weeks ago.

Taylor, on the other hand, glowed with good health. She wore her LET ME LIVE sweatshirt and had artfully mussed her cropped hair.

“Wash up,” she directed. “We’re all going to have dinner upstairs.”

My stomach growled, reminding me that we hadn’t been given any food all day. The clock on the floor said it was almost six. That morning, Taylor had shared via the speaker that Roza wanted us to wait to write the final scenes until that night. Maybe it was weakness from hunger, but Wren and I had managed to sleep through most of the day.

“Wash your hair near the drain,” Taylor now ordered. “Chitra’s going to bring down some more water for you to rinse with.”

I took my clothes off carefully, keeping the glass vial wrapped in my bra. It felt almost sexual to lather up my greasy hair. I shampooed twice, a third time. Wren and I soaped ourselves up without shame. Taylor pushed through more things in baskets: fluffy white towels and a fresh change of our clothes.

“Hurry up, ladies.” She snapped her fingers, scrolling through her phone. “We don’t have all day.”

Naked, I brought the fresh clothes towards the pile of dirty. Glancing back, I saw Taylor was still occupied. I hooked my bra and slipped the vial beneath my breast. Wren gently patted a white towel to her injured face, leaving traces of pink.

“No time for makeup or anything.” Taylor made a face. “But at least you guys don’t smell like shit anymore.” She tossed in one set of handcuffs. “Wren, you cuff Alex. Then come to the bars and I’ll cuff you.”

She ushered us out like sheep. And we were like sheep. I felt so weak—from lack of food, the constant fear, and now this fun surprise—that it was all I could do to keep upright. Moving through the kitchen and hall, smelling clean, wearing clothes, reminded me of the early days. When all that mattered was winning the contest. When Wren had been my biggest threat.

Taylor directed us to the dining room. There, a table had been opulently set for five. Roza waited at the head, sipping from a glass of wine. Her eyes lit up and she stood, radiant in her long oxblood gown. “Hello, my beautiful darlings!” She grinned. “You look better than you have in a long time.”

I wondered if Roza was in a good mood because this was almost over. Keeping people imprisoned must cause a lot of stress, even for her.

Taylor motioned for us to sit at the two furthest seats from Roza.

“No, dear.” Roza patted the seats near her. “Let the guests sit by me.”

With narrowed eyes, Taylor pulled out a chair for me, as Chitra did the same for Wren. We were close enough to Roza that I briefly imagined sinking my teeth into her bare arm.

Chitra poured red wine into our glasses. Since I was still handcuffed, Taylor held the glass to my lips, purposefully pouring too much. I almost choked.

“Careful.” Roza glared at Taylor. “And not too much. I need everyone clearheaded for our final game.”

Wren and I locked eyes. Was she fucking kidding? Hadn’t she tortured us enough?

Chitra carried in dishes and set them in front of us, a main course starring filet mignon.

“I thought we had to end with steak.” Roza winked at me as she picked up her knife and fork.

Taylor fed me like a baby, and Chitra did the same for Wren. The rich food exploded in my mouth. I knew it’d make me sick later but I didn’t care.

At one point I glanced up to find Chitra watching me. She mouthed something:

I’m sorry.

As I stared, she sadly turned back to Wren, slipping a forkful of peas past her lips.

Finally, Roza set down her silverware. Chitra started to stand, but Roza glared and she sat again.

“Well, girls. You made it to the end.” Roza leaned forward to grab an open bottle of wine. She poured more into my glass, which was still almost full, until it nearly reached the rim. “Alex, I’ll repeat that you really surprised me. That rarely happens.”

“You’re welcome.” The food and wine were making me dizzy.

“And you.” She turned to Wren. “You surprised me too. You’re a very spoiled, childish girl, but you’ve been able to get through this as well.”

Wren watched Roza, her face blank.

“Both of you were deeply hurt growing up.” With a full glass, Roza sat back. “And you’ve spent the rest of your lives hurting others. Maybe you found an oasis in each other, but that doesn’t mean it turned you into good and loving people, did it? You treated men terribly. You weren’t nice to your so-called friends. You enjoyed a codependent, sadomasochistic relationship with each other that took only a moment of true connection to destroy. Wren, you shut down and treated Alex like she didn’t exist. Alex, you physically harmed Wren and then fell into a hole of self-pity.” She winked at me. “Not a bad story, actually.”