“Everything is going to be fine, Elisha. You’ll see.” Allard closes the door. The deadbolt clunks into place, jumping me back to my new reality. “You must be starving. Can I get you anything to eat? Drink? Should I start a fire?”

“No, thank you.” My stomach rebels at the thought of food, and my legs wobble, threatening to give out. “I think I need to lay down.”

“Of course.” She shows me down a hall to a small room with a single bed draped in wool. A light fixture resembling a space station illuminates a streamlined dresser. I try not to compare the sparse furnishings to my room at home—the king-size bed tufted with down, the French crystal chandelier, the dressing room equipped with a delivery portal for sponsored products, ensuring a constant rotation of sequins and bangles—all controlled by a swipe of my hand. I only had to speak the occasion I was dressing for, and, at a wiggle of my fingers, the closet would spin around me while my virtual stylist assembled an outfit in one minute flat.

As I catch a passing glimpse of myself in a mirror, my bruised and bloody face replicated with gold starburst rods radiating around it—at the center of the explosion—my breath seizes. Terrorized by the nightmare reflected at me, I quickly look away. It’s like I’m underwater again, fighting for breath, and I crumple onto the bed, trembling, the enormity of the night assaulting me. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, and a sob escapes my throat.

“Shhh… Here, take this.” Allard helps me sit up and hands me an orange cup. “It’ll help you sleep. And tomorrow we’ll begin your training so you’re up to speed when the others return.”

After choking down the sugary concoction, I bury my face in the pillow.

Allard sits silently with me, her hands pressed to my back, and lets me cry.

Eventually, the sedative works its magic, and the sobs slow.

“Welcome home, Elisha,” Allard whispers, lightly stroking my hair as I drift to sleep. “I promise you’ll find riches here you never knew existed. Everything is going to be okay. You’re among friends now.”

Friends. The word resonates, but I pass out before I dare dream it’s true.

When I wake, I’m battered, beaten, limp. Everything hurts. My throat is raw, and my lungs are sore. The night comes rushing back with a vengeance. Wanting to keep the memories at bay, I force myself to my feet, repeating my mantra: No looking back. Only forward. Don’t think. Move. I head into the hall in search of the bathroom and bump into Allard.

“Elisha. You’re awake.”

Groggy, I rub my eyes, reminding myself of my new name. “How long was I out?” I ask, my voice scratchy and hoarse.

“About twenty hours.”

“That was some strong stuff you gave me.”

“Yes. I thought you needed a good rest,” she says. “And a hot bath is in order, too.” She opens a door behind her and shows me into a spacious restroom with stone walls and a claw-foot tub bathed in natural light from skylights. Dropping a stopper into the drain, she turns on the hot water and throws in bath salts and bubbles.