no turning back

• forty seven •

elijah

About an hour had passed since one of Ammu's men had visited me. This one had attempted to change me into a linen tunic and dress pants, the standard garb of weddings in the tradition of my heritage. To dress me, he made the unfortunate mistake of removing my bindings. Although my limbs were weak at first, I managed to strike him down and injure him enough to make it out of the door of the room where I'd been held captive.

I only made it a few steps before the cue of guards outside tackled me, tased me, and dragged me back into the room, where I was bound again. Only this time, I was forced to stand with my arms strung up to opposite walls. They stripped off every layer of clothing until I was as naked as the day my mother expelled me from her womb.

The door groaned open and Ammu entered. He was dressed in a gold ceremonial tunic with white dress pants and shoes. I'd only ever seen him dressed so nicely in the one family photo my parents had kept from their wedding day.

"I'm beginning to think you have no regard for this girl," he said. "I warned you of what would happen if you resisted."

My teeth gnashed together at the threats he'd spoken earlier, the revolting things he swore to do to Angel. "You also said you would provide evidence within the hour that would encourage a change of heart. It's been well over an hour—several, in fact—and my heart remains the same. Your threats are bluffs, Uncle. You have no leverage over me."

A sickly smile stretched across his leathery tan skin. "Is that so? You are not the only prisoner in my care, you know. But if you refuse to believe me, perhaps you do not deserve the gift from your little American bride."

This was a trap. Whatever he said, whatever evidence he had, was bullshit. He would have dragged Gladys in here kicking and screaming if he had her.

Still, I hesitated. On the minuscule chance I was wrong, I had to know. If she was suffering at the hands of Ammu and his men, I needed to find out sooner rather than later. I was still formulating a plan, but I would expedite it if she were in danger, even if it would increase the risk.

"What?" I snapped.

He took one lazy step toward me, and then another. His arms, which had been folded behind his back until now, unfurled. He held one hand out toward me, fist closed and palm down. Without looking away from me, he rotated his palm upward and opened his fist.

Dark, crimson blood puddled in his palm. In the center, a slender finger rested. Its pale color stood out against the vibrance of the blood, a harsh and haunting contrast of dark and light. Bile surged up my throat as I studied the raw tissue and bone exposed below the second knuckle. I didn't bother to turn away while my stomach repurposed its bile all over my uncle's feet.

"Gah! Koskol!" he shrieked (moron). In his panic, he dropped the finger onto the floor.

Some of the fluid clung to my lips, my throat still burning from its acidity. I'd seen worse—done worse—to people's bodies, yet I'd never reacted so viscerally. My stomach felt concave as I stared down at the disfigured digit. I didn't want to look at the finger any longer but I couldn't tear my gaze away. The idea of someone doing this to Gladys wrecked me. I could all too well hear her screams as they held her down and cut it off.

I nearly closed my eyes, my heart ripping in half, but I didn't. I forced myself to stare at the finger. This was the consequence of my selfishness. I put her in danger. I let this happen. I'd never felt such guilt and remorse in my entire life.

I'll make them pay for this, Angel.

The guilt quickly melted into fury, however, as I noticed something unfamiliar about the finger. My focus narrowed in on the stubby nail bed. I'd extensively memorized my wife's hands, the smoothness of her elegant nail beds and filed tips. She had beautiful nails.

I lifted my head, the fire burning inside me renewed, as I noticed a guard had entered and was wiping Ammu's feet. "Ahmagh." (Fool)

His head snapped toward me, insult and rage burning inside his eyes. "You are the only fool here," he sneered. "I have tolerated enough of your disrespect. Next, I'll bring you her bleeding heart. Then you'll have nothing to bitch about, nothing to live for—"

"You can stop torturing whatever poor soul you stole this finger from," I spoke, my voice calm with the confidence of victory. "You do not have my wife and you cannot use her against me."

The usual schooled expression he wore fragmented for barely a second.

"You think I would not recognize my wife's fingers?" I laughed. "You have never known love, have you, Ammu? Otherwise, you would understand. You would be as obsessed with your wife as I am with mine. You would have every inch of your own wife's body memorized."

He bellowed in frustration. "Negahbân-hâ! (Guards)

The one who'd been wiping his foot erected himself from the floor and two more poured into the room. Without a word, they withdrew the batons from their waist belts and approached me. I grit my teeth and stared them down. My gaze fixed on Ammu, refusing to grimace or look away despite the continuous blows they rained down on my exposed body. I could do nothing but stand there and take it, so I did.

Ammu regained his expressionless face while we stared each other down through the violence. My body ached, several of my ribs throbbing with agony. I refused to let my blank look waver. He would not see me break. As long as my Angel was safe, I had nothing to lose.

Once my body was beaten purple, he issued a command and the guards left. Our gazes held for a moment in silence before he spoke.

"The next time you see me," he said, "I will have your true bride at my side. You will perform the vows or I'll cut your fingers off, one by one. You don't need them for procreating anyway."

With that, he stalked out of the room. I waited a few minutes before letting the exhaustion and pain get to me, dropping my head. As much as my body hurt, the fault in my heart was restored. The pain that had shredded my soul was now gone. This agony of my physical body could not compare to that I had felt when laying eyes on that finger.

They had not harmed Gladys. They couldn't use her to get to me, and they would not win. Though I knew they would be searching for her, which only left me so much time to escape. I had to get out of here before they succeeded in finding her. I now realized what that would reduce me to, and I couldn't let that happen. I would never recover if they hurt her.

I hope you're hiding, baby. Don't let him find you. Let me tear down these walls and come to you, like I always do. Be patient for me, my love.