Chapter 4

Elena''s POV

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the hospital windows. For a moment, I forgot where I was and panic flooded through me. But then I saw Marcus asleep in the chair next to my bed, and I remembered.

Safe. I was safe.

My throat felt scratchy and dry. A nurse came in to check on me, and I tried to ask for water, but no sound came out. It never did anymore.

The nurse seemed to understand and brought me a cup with a straw. I drank it all and felt a little more human.

Marcus stirred when he heard the nurse moving around. "Morning," he said, stretching. "How are you feeling?"

I reached for the notepad that had become my voice. Better, I wrote.

"Good," he smiled, and I liked the way his whole face changed when he did that. "Are you hungry? I could get you some breakfast."

I was hungry, but asking for food still felt wrong. I wrote: If it''s okay.

"Elena," Marcus said seriously, "you never have to ask permission to eat. Or drink water, or use the bathroom, or anything else you need to take care of yourself. Those are your rights, not privileges someone can take away."

Rights. I''d never thought of eating as a right before.

Okay, I wrote.

Marcus left to get food, and I was alone with my thoughts for the first time since they''d found me. The hospital room was so clean and white and quiet. Nothing like the basement where Viktor kept me.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about that place. The smell of mold and fear. The chain around my ankle that left permanent scars. The way he''d whisper terrible things in my ear while he—

No. I couldn''t think about that.

Marcus came back with pancakes and orange juice. Real food, not the moldy bread scraps I was used to. I ate slowly, savoring every bite.

"Elena," Marcus said carefully, "can you tell me about before? About Viktor?"

My hand froze with the fork halfway to my mouth. I put it down and reached for the notepad.

Don''t want to talk about him.

"I understand," Marcus said quickly. "But the police need to know what happened so they can make sure he can''t hurt you again. Or hurt anyone else."

Anyone else. I hadn''t thought about that. What if Viktor found another girl to replace me?

I started writing, my hand shaking: He bought me when I was 13. From my mother.

Marcus''s face went white. "Elena..."

She needed money for drugs, I continued. Viktor gave her $500 and took me.

I could see Marcus trying to process this, trying to understand how a mother could sell her own child. I didn''t blame him for not understanding. Normal people didn''t do things like that.

What happened after that? he wrote on the notepad, pushing it back to me.

This was the hard part. The part I''d never told anyone.

He said if I ever spoke again, he would kill me. Cut out my tongue and make me watch while he hurt other children. So I stopped talking.

Tears were running down Marcus''s face now. He reached out like he wanted to touch my hand, then stopped.

It''s okay, I wrote. You can touch me. You''re not like him.

Marcus took my hand carefully, like I was made of glass. "Elena, I''m so sorry. No child should ever have to go through what you''ve been through."

I squeezed his hand. It feels good to tell someone.

"Can you tell me more? Only if you want to."

I thought about it. Part of me wanted to keep the secrets locked away forever. But another part of me was tired of carrying them alone.

He kept me in the basement, I wrote. Chained to the wall most of the time. Only let me out when he wanted to... when he wanted to hurt me.

Marcus was crying openly now. "How did you survive it? How did you stay strong for four years?"

I thought about that friend I''d mentioned before. The one who''d helped me believe I was worth saving.

I had a friend once, I wrote. Before Viktor. Her name was Maria. She used to tell me that everyone deserves to be loved and protected. Even when I forgot everything else, I remembered that.

"Where is Maria now?"

Dead. Viktor killed her because she tried to help me escape the first time.

Marcus made a sound like someone had punched him. He squeezed my hand tighter.

That''s why I never tried to run again, I continued. Until three days ago. But I couldn''t stop thinking about what Maria said. That I deserve better. So I broke the chain and ran.

"You broke the chain?"

I nodded and pushed up my hospital gown to show him my ankle. The scar was ugly and deep, but it was proof that I''d fought for my freedom.

"Elena, you''re the strongest person I''ve ever met," Marcus said.

I don''t feel strong.

"But you are. You survived four years of hell and you still believe you deserve better. That takes incredible strength."

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was stronger than I thought.

Dr. Peterson came in then with Detective Morrison. They both looked serious.

"Elena," the detective said gently, "we got the results of your DNA test."

I tensed up. This was it. This was where they told me I had no family and would have to go into foster care.

"You have family, sweetheart. Family who has been looking for you for twelve years."

Twelve years? I wrote.

"Your real name is Elena Romano. You were taken from your family when you were five years old by your biological mother. Your father and brothers have been searching for you ever since."

Romano. The name sounded familiar, like something from a dream I''d almost forgotten.

I have brothers? I wrote.

"Seven of them," Detective Morrison smiled. "And they''re on their way here right now."

Seven brothers. A father. A real family who had been looking for me.

I looked at Marcus, suddenly scared. What if my new family didn''t want me to see him anymore? What if they took me away and I never saw the Harrison family again?

"Hey," Marcus said, reading my expression. "Whatever happens, we''ll still be here for you, okay? You''ll always have us."

Promise? I wrote.

"I promise," Marcus said.

And for the first time in four years, I believed that everything might actually be okay.