When this plan had first occurred to me—in those terrifying first few days of my captivity—I had been playacting. As soon as I found myself off the island, I would’ve done my best to escape, regardless of any promises I might’ve made. Now, however, I don’t even know what I would do if Julian took me with him. Would I try to leave him? Do I even want to leave him? I honestly have no idea.

“Have you ever been in love?” I ask Beth, picking up my brush again.

To my surprise, a dark shadow passes over her face. “No,” she says curtly. “Never.”

“But you have loved… someone, right?” I don’t know what makes me ask that, but I’ve apparently touched a nerve, because Beth’s entire body tightens, like I just struck her a blow.

To my surprise, however, instead of snapping at me, she just nods. “Yes,” she says quietly. “Yes, Nora, I have loved.” Her eyes are unnaturally bright, as though glittering with unspilled moisture.

And I realize then that she’s suffering—that whatever happened to her had left deep, indelible scars on her psyche. Her thorny exterior is just a mask, a way to protect herself from further hurt. And right now, for whatever reason, that mask has slipped, exposing the real woman underneath.

“What happened to this person?” I ask, my voice soft and gentle. “What happened to the one you loved?”

“She died.” Beth’s tone is expressionless, but I can sense the bottomless well of agony in that simple statement. “My daughter died when she was two.”

I inhale sharply. “I’m sorry, Beth. Oh God, I’m so sorry…” Setting down my brush again, I walk over to Beth’s couch and sit down, putting my arms around her.

At first, she’s stiff and rigid, as though not used to human contact, but she doesn’t push me away. She needs this right now; I know better than anyone how soothing a warm embrace can be when your emotions are all over the place. Julian delights in making me fall apart, so he can then be the one to mend me and put me back together.

“I am sorry,” I repeat softly, rubbing her back in a slow circular motion. “I am so sorry.”

Gradually, some of the tension drains out of Beth’s body. She lets herself be soothed by my touch. After a while, she seems to regain her equilibrium, and I let her go, not wanting her to feel awkward about the hug.

Scooting back a bit, she gives me a small, embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, Nora. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s all right,” I interrupt. “I’m sorry I was prying. I didn’t know—”

And then we both look at each other, realizing that we could apologize until the end of time and it wouldn’t change anything.

Beth closes her eyes for a second, and when she opens them, her mask is firmly back in place. She’s my jailer again, as independent and self-contained as ever.