Jake’s attacker is relentless, hitting him over and over. I scream, feeling each blow inside my heart. Every brutal strike against Jake’s body is killing something inside me, some belief in a brighter future that has held me together thus far.

When Jake falls to his knees, the man kicks him in the ribs, and I can hear Jake’s pained groan.

“Please, Julian,” I whisper in defeat, slumping in his arms. “Please, stop…” I know I’m begging for mercy from a man who has none. He’s murdering Jake in front of my eyes, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.

My captor lets the beating proceed for another minute before he releases me and pulls out his phone. I stare at him, trembling from head to toe. I don’t even dare hope.

Julian quickly types in a text. On the screen, I see Jake’s assailant pausing and reaching into his pocket.

Then he stops completely and leaves Jake’s room.

Jake is left lying on the floor, covered in blood. I remain glued to the screen, needing to know that he is alive. After a minute, I hear his groan and see him getting up. He hobbles toward the house phone, moving like an old man instead of an athletic young guy.

And then I hear him calling 911.

I sink to the floor and bury my face in my hands.

Julian has won.

I know that my life will never be my own again.

11

Nora

When I wake up the next morning, Julian is gone again.

I don’t really remember what happened after I collapsed in Julian’s office yesterday. The rest of the day is fuzzy in my memory. It’s like my brain had switched off, unable to process the violence I had witnessed. I think I vaguely recall Julian picking me up off the floor and bringing me to the shower. He must’ve washed me and bandaged my feet because they’re wrapped in gauze this morning and hurting a lot less when I walk.

I’m not sure if he had sex with me last night. If he did, then he must’ve been unusually gentle because I don’t have any soreness this morning. I do remember sleeping with him in my bed, with his large body curved around mine.

In some ways, what happened simplifies things. When there’s no hope, when there’s no choice, everything becomes remarkably clear. The fact of the matter is that Julian holds all the cards. I’m his for as long as he wishes to keep me. There’s no escape for me, no way out.

And once I accept that fact, my life becomes easier. Before I know it, I have been on the island for nine days.

Beth tells me so over breakfast this morning.

I’ve grown to tolerate her presence. I have no choice—without Julian there, she’s my only source of human interaction. She feeds me, clothes me, and cleans after me. She’s almost like my nanny, except she’s young and sometimes bitchy. I don’t think she’s forgiven me fully for trying to bash her head in. It hurt her pride or something.