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Back The Dead Line
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

Casey kneeled down beside Romida, smiling. Romida grinned back with a quick, confident charm. Already she looked quite different to the haunted girl on the ship. There was a toughness in her eyes, and in the tilt of her jaw. Looking at her, Casey could see the girl who had fought the soldiers in Rakhine with all her strength. She could see the echo of Shamshun, too, the woman who had walked for miles through the forests, fighting for her daughter, fighting to survive.

You never know how you can run, until you run for your daughter.

‘You said you had met my mother,’ said Romida, as Layla translated smoothly.

‘Shamshun,’ said Casey. ‘She will be so excited to see you, Romida.’

Romida’s eyes lit up. ‘I cannot wait to see her.’ Her eyes clouded slightly. ‘But she will be so angry with me . . . I should never have gone . . .’

‘Of course she is not angry,’ Hessa interrupted. ‘And Jamalida will be so pleased to see you, too.’

‘Jamalida.’ The memories filled Romida’s eyes. ‘I told them to wait for her, back in the camp. I told them she wouldn’t be long . . . I was so stupid.’

‘Do you know the name of the men who snatched you from the camp?’ Casey asked.

Romida’s head sagged. ‘Jeetu,’ she said. ‘He said his name was Jeetu, but that might be a lie. I thought he was so nice. And then he hit me. He hit me hard. It hurt. It hurts.’

The bruises still showed on her face.

‘Do you remember anyone else?’

‘There was another man, but I never knew his name. He told me he had a gun, That he would shoot me if I made a sound. But I didn’t care. I shouted, I tried to throw myself out of the car. I screamed. I said I didn’t care what they did to me, that they could kill me if they wanted, but I would not go. I would not go.’

The will to live gleamed in Romida’s eyes: the ruthless, absolute determination to survive. But then her shoulders slumped. ‘Jeetu told me they would go to my mother’s tent. They said they would go to her, and rape her . . . And kill her . . . And there was nothing I could . . . I knew they would . . . I stopped fighting then. I didn’t know what to do.’

Romida paused, gazing at the whirl of the ceiling fan.