I read the whole diary in short bursts; there weren’t that many entries. From what I’d read, she really didn’t care for Zandra and was thrilled with the idea of marrying Kyle Richardson and getting the heck away. I wish there had been something that talked about how she made her escape. A secret passageway? Maybe her father finally came through for her? But I didn’t find any clues in it, other than to know Zandra had always been a vile person, and her brother Angelo was mean to her his whole life.
Entry Eighteen Oct 15 – Kyle stopped by again today. I can’t wait to get married and get away from this place. Dad refuses to stop Angelo’s constant threats. I can’t believe we are related, let alone twins. Angelo warned Kyle I’d run the first chance I got, and that Kyle needed to talk to mother about keeping me under control. When Kyle told Angelo that he wasn’t worried, Angelo offered to show him how to slice my Achilles’ tendon, to keep me from running. Kyle pretended he thought that Angelo was joking, but he stayed with me all day and offered to camp out in the backyard if I wanted him to. Two more weeks and this hell is over.
By my forty-second tick mark on my closet wall, I began to wonder if I’d ever be permitted to leave or speak to another human being. I was thankful Bianca had taught me how to protect my thoughts so the hatred I felt for Zandra was masked from her view. I did broadcast the loneliness I felt growing each day, hoping it would ebb away at Zandra’s resolve to keep me a prisoner. Those lonely thoughts gave way to the longing for relationships that might never be. I felt myself thinking often of Will, Gretchen, and my brothers, how all of them had willingly accepted me into their home, their lives and their hearts. The fun-loving brothers I’d only known for a mere week had been abruptly stolen like a prized toy. The knowledge that somewhere in the world I had a brother that I’d shared my mother’s womb with was crippling because I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. The father who was full of love, who I’d been denied my whole life, was robbed from me. I thought of Daniel all the time. I knew he would be worried sick by now. The solitude proved unbearable, and the guards witnessed me in emotional turmoil nearly every evening, but none offered even one word of comfort. They looked on as my hopelessness threatened to envelope me.
As I stared at that forty-second tick mark, I made up my mind, no matter what Zandra chose to do to me, it couldn’t be worse than the utter hopelessness of being denied human contact – or Centaur contact. When she joined me in the garden, she waited for me to repeat the lesson from yesterday—I rebelled the only way I knew how, “Zandra, when can I see Dad again?”
“Your father is very busy. He’ll see you when he chooses to make time for you.” She was lying. I couldn’t read her mind or her thoughts, but I could feel the truth. She was keeping me from him.
“Does he know where I am?”
“Of course, he knows where you are.”
“Then why hasn’t he come to see me?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“Bullshit!” The look on her face was worth every penny in my bank account, and I would have gladly handed it over. I’d rattled her.
“I think we’ll skip the lesson today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stood and walked away. I felt that initial panic that I had wasted what little human contact I was afforded by my belligerence. The panic gave way to seething anger; I made myself a silent promise that I would not relent. I watched as an alligator that had been sunning along the water’s edge dove into the water – even that beast with prehistoric ancestors had more freedom than I did. I wouldn’t give up, and I refused to politely sit through one more of her lessons.
I was done. Nothing in the world was worth this isolation. When I heard the door to the house close, I knew my human contact was over for the day. I was wearing blue jeans, a sweatshirt, and my favorite sneakers – perfect traveling clothes. I stood up and started walking toward the large iron gate. I could hear my guard’s footsteps behind me. I had gone thirty feet when I heard his voice for the first time in six weeks, “Stop!”
I ignored him and picked up my pace.
His voice was loud and menacing, “Camille, I said stop!”
I didn’t even glance over my shoulder. I had spoken to him on several occasions and was ignored. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead I let loose into a sprint for the gate. Two vice grips for hands grabbed my shoulders, throwing me violently to the ground when I was less than twenty feet from the gate. I hadn’t expected the impact. I lay on the ground weighing my options. I could easily make it into the swamp with a hope that this man couldn’t swim and the alligators I watched every day would not attack me. I sat up from the ground, brushed the gravel off of my face, and glared in his direction.
His face was angry when he demanded, “Go back to the house.”
“You go back to the house. I’m going home.”
“This is your home, Camille.”
“No, this is her home. I’m leaving.” I stood up, brushed the last of the gravel from me and looked at the gate. I could reach it and be over it in less than thirty seconds. The problem was, I knew the guard was even faster. Where’s a man-eating alligator when you need one? I took a step toward the water, deciding this would be my best shot at freedom. When I did, the guard heaved his whole body at me. The weight of his frame knocked the wind out of me and covered me in gravel a second time.
The guard anticipated what I was about to do. He was done talking to me. His palm gripped my neck at the base of my skull, and he forcibly escorted me all the way to the front door.
The anger inside me welled up with such fervor that I was sure it would spill over and poison those around me. I knew I needed to hold the anger, but I also needed to get it back to a slow boil. I did what I knew would bring the anger under control, but in doing so would make my heart ache all over again.
I closed my eyes and imagined the day on the yacht with Drake: how his skin felt as I held his face in my hands. I saw the surprised look on his face when images of the two of us flooded from his mind. I remembered how overcome I was by the images, so much so that I kissed him without warning. I sat in my room for what felt like hours, reliving those precious few moments with him, trying to remember what we had said to one another.
Drake was my island oasis. I could feel the molten anger subsiding. It didn’t go away – but I felt I had it under control again. Thoughts of Drake had somehow become my escape. I thought of my easy friendship with Bianca and wondered if she’d been able to convince Drake to break their engagement after I’d been taken away. I wondered what they knew of my disappearance. Did they think I’d hopped a plane to California? I tried not to think of Daniel, but knew he was probably a nervous wreck; we’d been friends since I knew what a friend was. Even when I’d gone away to summer camp, I had never gone longer than a week without talking to him.
The morning of tick mark forty-three, I again met Zandra in the garden and asked her the same question as the day before. She refused to answer and gingerly walked away for a second time. It was in that moment that I realized she was manipulating me in one of the most sadistic of manners. She withheld what little human contact was afforded to me. I was stronger than she gave me credit for, sharper still for noticing it, and then it hit me – I wasn’t alone. My mother’s spirit was undoubtedly here with me. I just needed to figure out how to communicate with her. By Zandra’s own admission, this was a gift bestowed upon me by Zeus himself; no amount of manipulation would inhibit this gift.
Chapter 27
Camille Benning – Florida – Six weeks following her abduction