Number Thirteen
Page 57
“No! Ben,” I screech, turning to Ben. “Please.”
“I’m sorry, Emelyn. I can’t do anything until I know what’s happening here.”
I hiccup, and turn to William. He’s watching me, his face a mask of pain.
“I love you,” I whisper as the officer shoves me into the car. “I’m sorry.”
I crumble into the seat as the door slams. I pull my kn. I20;I ees up to my chest and I sob crazily until I feel the car pulling away.
“It’s okay,” the officer says. “You’re safe now.”
I’ll never be safe again without him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Can you tell me what your name is?” the officer asks.
I’m sitting in an interview room, staring at my hands. I’m empty. I can’t feel anything. I don’t know where William is, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is that they’ve ripped me out of my world, and they’re hurting the person I love.
“Emelyn,” I say in an empty tone.
“And your last name?”
I look up and glare at the officer. He’s older, with salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes. He’s giving me a gentle expression, and so far he’s been very friendly, but he doesn’t understand what he’s doing here. How could he possibly? He probably lives a normal life, with a normal job and a normal wife. He doesn’t understand complicated.
“I don’t know,” I mutter.
“Do you know why you don’t know, Emelyn?”
“No.”
“Are you aware of your life before this?”
I glare at him. “Yes. I know about my life.”
“How much of it?”
“Enough.”
He rubs his hand over his chin and nods. “Are you aware you have a mother still alive?”
“Yes,” I growl.
“What can you tell me about your life, Emelyn?”
“I can tell you that my mother’s ‘friend’ used to come into my room and try to assault me. Because of that, my little sister climbed over a balcony and fell to her death,” I bite out.
He narrows his eyes, and nods again. “Is that all?”
“Is that all?” I cry. “What more could there be?”
“After your sister died, do you remember what happened to you?”
My body stiffens.
“William.”
“No, Emelyn. Before William.”
I close my eyes, trying to remember, but there’s nothing but small flashbacks. “No,” I whisper.
“Emelyn, your mother was put into jail for numerous reasons. Because of that, you were put into a foster home. One evening, your foster mother sent you to get milk. You never returned. We couldn’t find you, missing persons ads were created. Eventually we got leads that you were in another country, being used as a slave.”
My body stiffens. “What?” I gasp.
“You were stolen and sold as a slave. Fortunately, you weren’t used as a sex slave, but some of your other friends in there...they were.”
I shake my head, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking like he genuinely means it. “You were a slave for around five years. We finally closed in, looking for groups of girls that had been sold, only to find some of them missing. We couldn’t trace where they had gone, and then Peter called us, saying he felt something was off in William’s house. His name had been popping up here and there, and after the recent death of a girl at his place, I knew there was something off. After a little digging, we traigg theced his name to some of the transactions made on the girls.”
I shake my head. They have to by lying. William wouldn’t buy us. He wouldn’t. Why would he ever put himself in that situation? Why would he play into that kind of sick game? They have to be wrong. The William I know isn’t a monster, not like that...He wouldn’t...
“You’re wrong,” I whisper, peering at him through damp lashes.
“How do you suppose he gathered thirteen girls then?”
“He...s-s-s-saved us.”
“Emelyn,” he says, almost as though he’s talking to a child.
“No,” I yell, pummeling my tiny fists into the table. “You’re lying.”
“Listen,” he says, reaching out and taking my hand. I try to jerk it away but there’s no point. He’s far stronger, and far more determined. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you’re safe here. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Any of you. You will be questioned quite a lot, and put into a safe house until we can find alternate accommodations.”
“I want to go back to him,” I say blandly.
“May I ask why?”
“Because he’s kind, and he took care of us when we had nothing else.”
“One last question for the night, and I need you to answer it honestly for me, Emelyn. Did you choose to be with William?”
I lift my eyes and stare into his, not wavering. “Yes.”
WILLIAM
“We’ve got your name, William,” the cop says, pacing the room.
I don’t speak.
“We know those girls were sold as slaves and you paid very good money to get them back. If you tell us all you know, we can go easy on you.”
I grunt. “If you had proof, you wouldn’t need me to tell you anything. And if you think I’m stupid enough to fall for the old ‘we’ll go easily on you’ trick, then you really don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“I’m sorry, Emelyn. I can’t do anything until I know what’s happening here.”
I hiccup, and turn to William. He’s watching me, his face a mask of pain.
“I love you,” I whisper as the officer shoves me into the car. “I’m sorry.”
I crumble into the seat as the door slams. I pull my kn. I20;I ees up to my chest and I sob crazily until I feel the car pulling away.
“It’s okay,” the officer says. “You’re safe now.”
I’ll never be safe again without him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Can you tell me what your name is?” the officer asks.
I’m sitting in an interview room, staring at my hands. I’m empty. I can’t feel anything. I don’t know where William is, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is that they’ve ripped me out of my world, and they’re hurting the person I love.
“Emelyn,” I say in an empty tone.
“And your last name?”
I look up and glare at the officer. He’s older, with salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes. He’s giving me a gentle expression, and so far he’s been very friendly, but he doesn’t understand what he’s doing here. How could he possibly? He probably lives a normal life, with a normal job and a normal wife. He doesn’t understand complicated.
“I don’t know,” I mutter.
“Do you know why you don’t know, Emelyn?”
“No.”
“Are you aware of your life before this?”
I glare at him. “Yes. I know about my life.”
“How much of it?”
“Enough.”
He rubs his hand over his chin and nods. “Are you aware you have a mother still alive?”
“Yes,” I growl.
“What can you tell me about your life, Emelyn?”
“I can tell you that my mother’s ‘friend’ used to come into my room and try to assault me. Because of that, my little sister climbed over a balcony and fell to her death,” I bite out.
He narrows his eyes, and nods again. “Is that all?”
“Is that all?” I cry. “What more could there be?”
“After your sister died, do you remember what happened to you?”
My body stiffens.
“William.”
“No, Emelyn. Before William.”
I close my eyes, trying to remember, but there’s nothing but small flashbacks. “No,” I whisper.
“Emelyn, your mother was put into jail for numerous reasons. Because of that, you were put into a foster home. One evening, your foster mother sent you to get milk. You never returned. We couldn’t find you, missing persons ads were created. Eventually we got leads that you were in another country, being used as a slave.”
My body stiffens. “What?” I gasp.
“You were stolen and sold as a slave. Fortunately, you weren’t used as a sex slave, but some of your other friends in there...they were.”
I shake my head, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking like he genuinely means it. “You were a slave for around five years. We finally closed in, looking for groups of girls that had been sold, only to find some of them missing. We couldn’t trace where they had gone, and then Peter called us, saying he felt something was off in William’s house. His name had been popping up here and there, and after the recent death of a girl at his place, I knew there was something off. After a little digging, we traigg theced his name to some of the transactions made on the girls.”
I shake my head. They have to by lying. William wouldn’t buy us. He wouldn’t. Why would he ever put himself in that situation? Why would he play into that kind of sick game? They have to be wrong. The William I know isn’t a monster, not like that...He wouldn’t...
“You’re wrong,” I whisper, peering at him through damp lashes.
“How do you suppose he gathered thirteen girls then?”
“He...s-s-s-saved us.”
“Emelyn,” he says, almost as though he’s talking to a child.
“No,” I yell, pummeling my tiny fists into the table. “You’re lying.”
“Listen,” he says, reaching out and taking my hand. I try to jerk it away but there’s no point. He’s far stronger, and far more determined. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you’re safe here. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Any of you. You will be questioned quite a lot, and put into a safe house until we can find alternate accommodations.”
“I want to go back to him,” I say blandly.
“May I ask why?”
“Because he’s kind, and he took care of us when we had nothing else.”
“One last question for the night, and I need you to answer it honestly for me, Emelyn. Did you choose to be with William?”
I lift my eyes and stare into his, not wavering. “Yes.”
WILLIAM
“We’ve got your name, William,” the cop says, pacing the room.
I don’t speak.
“We know those girls were sold as slaves and you paid very good money to get them back. If you tell us all you know, we can go easy on you.”
I grunt. “If you had proof, you wouldn’t need me to tell you anything. And if you think I’m stupid enough to fall for the old ‘we’ll go easily on you’ trick, then you really don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
