When I wake up I notice I'm sleeping on something soft and for a second I panic, thinking James dragged me into his bed last night. I shoot up, realizing I'm on the sofa in his room, not his bed.
A little relieved, I lay back down, shutting my eyes. I'm exhausted, and my head is throbbing. I probably shouldn't have drank so much last night. My stomach is sloshing around like the ocean in a storm and I swallow the bile rising in my throat.
The door clicks open. I'm expecting James but Anna comes in, carrying a tray in both hands.
"Good morning, sunshine!" She shouts as loud as she can. "Well, good afternoon!" She corrects, rolling her eyes.
"Jesus, Anna, do you have to yell? I have a headache," I hiss at her, sitting up a little, pressing my hand to my forehead.
"Sorry," she sings out in apology.
"Where's James?" I ask, glancing around his room.
Anna smirks at me. "He had to go into work and didn't want to wake you; said you had a pretty eventful night," she adds, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
I scowl at her. "Not that kind of eventful," I reply through gritted teeth as she comes over to me. I'm going to give James hell for that later.
Anna shakes her head, handing me a mug filled with a thick tea.
"Anyways, he asked me to check on you. He figured you were going to need my magical hangover cure this morning," she adds.
I sniff the contents of the mug, gagging. "What is this shit?" I ask her, fighting hard not to throw up. It smells horrendous.
She laughs. "If I tell you, you probably won't drink it. But I promise your headache and the queasiness in your stomach will be gone in twenty minutes. Tops," she replies.
I regard Anna for a moment before taking a sip, nearly spitting it back in the cup.
"Oh god," I exclaim after I've swallowed the first sip. "That's disgusting!"
"Yeah, it's an old family recipe, and it is pretty gross. But I promise you it works," Anna hums, urging me to drink more.
I narrow my gaze at her. "This isn't some cruel trick is it?" I ask.
Anna shakes her head. "Nope. I've made this stuff for James countless times. Actually, I think I've made it for all the debtors here at least once too," she replies with a shrug.
I swallow as much as I can in one swig, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. I force myself to take another drink, getting half the mug down before nearly choking to death on the fishy aftertaste.
"How was last night Anyways? I've always wondered what attending a fancy government party was like," she says as I take another drink.
"It was fun," I reply. "The dessert was amazing. Governor's speech was monotonous, but everything else was pretty great. Except for some Kendra bitch cornered me. Said she was with some group that helps debtors escape," I reply.
Anna's eyes get wide. "The rebels contacted you?" She asks in shock.
I nod. "Yeah. James was furious," I add, forcing myself to down the rest of the mug in one gulp. I stick my tongue out afterwards.
"Wow. You told him?!" She asks in surprise.
"He found us. But even if he hadn't, I still would have told him," I reply quietly.
"But I thought you didn't want to be here," she teases, a gleam in her green eyes.
I roll my eyes. "Rebel groups like that don't actually get anybody out. Even if they do help you escape, they'll just make you work for them in return. You're just exchanging one contract for another basically," I tell her, setting the empty mug on the coffee table in front of me.
Anna thinks on my words for a moment. "Yeah but you wouldn't be a debtor any more, right?" She asks.
"No, I'd still be a debtor. Just a fugitive of the state, which would be much worse. And that's how they keep the people they "free" working for them; they lord your freedom over you," I tell her.
"Sounds like you know a lot about this," she remarks.
"My friend Martin back at my old... job had worked with one of those groups for a time. He only mentioned his time with them to me once," I explain. "But I got the sense that it wasn't a good time in his life."
"So, they caught him then or," Anna drops her sentence, waiting for me to explain more.
"From what I understand he turned himself in. Didn't want to deal with the rebels anymore," I reply.
Anna nods. "How are you feeling?" She asks, picking up the coffee cup from the table and setting it back on the tray.
I think about that for a minute. My headache is gone and my stomach no longer feels like it's sloshing around. I still feel exhausted, but at least I don't feel sick anymore. "Holy shit, this stuff works," I remark in surprise.
Anna nods. "Told you it would do the trick," she says. "If you want you can join the rest of us for lunch in about twenty minutes," she says.
I shake my head. "That's okay. I just want some time to myself right now," I tell her.
"We'll be in the grand dining room if you change your mind," she tells me before leaving.
After she's gone I sigh, wondering how I ended up on the sofa, or how I even got inside and up the stairs. I don't remember anything after getting in his car to go home.
I was pretty sleepy. James must've carried me inside. At least he had the common decency to let me sleep on the sofa instead of the floor.
I let my thoughts wander back to last night. Everything is a little fuzzy at the edges but I remember most of the evening. I remember what James did to me last night. What I let him do to me.
I wish I could blame it on the alcohol but I was still pretty coherent at that point in the evening. And god Did I really tell Kendra that I trust James? Because I definitely don't.
I finally push the blanket off of me, getting up and heading into the bathroom.
I notice the date on the screen in the shower.
February 17th.
Why does that seem so familiar? Nothing comes to mind so I start the shower, relishing in the hot water as it pours over my body.
When I finally get out, I dress in a pair of skinny jeans with the cuffs rolled at the ankles and a flowy, white button-down shirt, leaving the first couple buttons undone. Wow. James wasn't kidding. These clothes do fit me perfectly.
I go to hang the party dress back up in James' closet, finding the floor still covered in boxes and tissue paper. I sigh, and bend down, gathering the boxes into my hands, breaking them down. Then I collect all of the tissue paper, stuffing everything in the recycling before wandering down the hall to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
I take a seat at the dining table, slowly waking up as I drink my coffee. This is my fourth day here. Today is February 17th.
February 17th. Why is that so familiar to me? I raise the coffee cup to my lips to take another sip, but it slips from my fingers as the realization hits me.
Oh god. How could I have forgotten what today was? February 17th is the anniversary of my mother's death.
________
When James gets home he finds me curled up on the sofa in his room, hugging my knees to my chest.
"What's wrong?" He asks me gently, concern lacing his words.
I don't meet his gaze. "February 17th," I murmur, staring blankly at the wall.
"Yes, that's today," James replies carefully, eying me suspiciously.
"My mother died on this day ten years ago," I explain, my words so quiet I'm not sure he hears them.
He comes over to the sofa, sitting down beside me. "I'm sorry," he tells me.
"She died in a car accident," I say absently, tears welling in my eyes.
"That was the day that I took on my mother's debt. That was the day I stopped being a kid," I tell him, unable to hold my tears back any longer.
"I never even got to say goodbye!" I sob. I was trying hard not to cry, but even after ten years, this day still wrecks me.
James pulls me into his lap, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck as I cry. He rubs my back, occasionally running his fingers through my hair.
"Shhhh, it's okay," he coaxes tenderly. But I continue to cry and he holds me the entire time. When I've finally calmed down, I take a deep breath sniffling against his chest.
"I'm sorry. I was trying hard not to cry. You'd think after ten years," I let my sentence fall, tears threatening to spill out again.
"It's okay. Grief is messy," he replies knowingly. "It sucks, doesn't it? Growing up without your mom or dad?" He asks, still rubbing my back soothingly.
I pull away in surprise, meeting his gaze. "But I thought-","He's my stepfather," James tells me, his arms still wrapped around my waist. There's a deep pain behind his violet eyes.
"My real father died from a heart attack when I was eleven," he says, his words impossibly quiet.
The grief that crosses his features is heavy and deep, and for a minute the cocky, overconfident, delinquent James Harrington I know melts away, replaced with a softer, more-vulnerable version of himself.
"I'm so sorry," I tell him softly.
"I'm sure it's shit for anyone, but I think it's different when you lose a parent when you're young. They never got to see you grow up. You're stuck having to get through the toughest days on your own, and you always wonder how they might have shaped your life differently if they'd still been there."
I tear up again, nodding because I know exactly what he means. We share the same grief for different people.
"My dad had ocular albinism," he continues, his words distant and sad.
"Because of the lack of pigmentation in the eyes, the red from the blood vessels behind shows through. I have it too, and that's why my eyes are violet," he tells me.
"That's why your eyes are a touchy subject," I whisper in realization.
James nods, pulling me against him again. "I got lucky, though, and I don't have any of the vision problems that usually accompany the disorder."
"I'm sorry today is such a rough day for you. If I'd known I wouldn't have gone into work at all," he tells me.
My heart swells at his words. It is a hard day for me and probably always will be. But talking with James about it- knowing he understands my pain- has somehow made me feel better. There's a day in the year that's hard for him too.
Then I remember the mess I didn't even bother to clean up in the kitchen. "I broke one of your coffee mugs," I tell him, guilt and a little fear lacing my words.
James laughs. "That's okay," he says casually. "I was planning on buying new ones anyways," he tells me, stroking my hair again.
I think of my mother's grave in the little cemetery at the edge of town. The small gravestone beneath the two oak trees at the edge of the forest. I only go there once a year, and usually it's with Toby. But I need to see it.
"Will you take me to the cemetery?" I ask James softly.
"Do you know where your mother's grave is?" He asks me curiously.
"I go there every year," I tell him. "I don't want to break tradition."
He nods, finally letting me go. "Alright," he agrees, standing up.
"Thank you," I tell him as I get up, following him.
"You'll need a jacket though, it's pretty cold out today," James says.
Oh yeah. The freaky garden. "Why is it so warm on your property in February?" I ask him.
James smirks at me a little. "Artifical atmosphere. My mother doesn't like the cold and she doesn't like too much heat either, so she keeps things a neutral temperature," he explains.
"I didn't even know that was possible," I reply, walking back over to the bathroom. I press the button on the wall, opening his closet. He follows me inside.
"They use the same technology in the federal green houses," he explains. "Helps keep everybody fed because they can grow everything all year long."
"That's neat," I say as I search through the clothes- my clothes- until I find the royal blue trench coat I had been eying at the store, slipping it on. I step into my flats, before turning back towards James. He holds out his hand to me and I take it.
The drive to the cemetery is a quiet one and James pulls into the parking lot, turning towards me.
"I'm going to give you your space," he tells me gently, giving me a pointed look. "But I need you to promise me that you won't try to run."
I shake my head. "I won't, Master. I promise," I reply softly. I'm surprised he's letting me go off on my own.
James nods. "I'll be right here when you're done," he tells me.
After a moment I open the door, getting out of the car. I give James a small smile before shutting the door and heading into the cemetery.
It's a dreary day in February. Thick grey clouds hang low, blotting out the sun, the bare, spindly tree branches swaying in the wind.
The ground is covered in a thin layer of dead leaves leftover from fall and they crunch under my shoes as I walk towards the very back of the cemetery, where two enormous oak trees are tangled together. There, beneath their twisted branches is a small granite headstone with just a name engraved in a fancy font.
Grace Ricoletti
"I miss you, Mom," I whisper as I stand before her grave, tears stinging my eyes. "I can't believe I've lived without you for ten years."
"I almost wasn't going to come if it wasn't with you."
I turn to see Toby walking towards me. Surprised, I run to him, crushing him in a hug. "Holy shit, I've missed you," I whisper as he wraps his arms around me.
"I missed you too, Erin," Toby replies, finally pulling away. "Have to say though, I didn't think you'd escape that quickly," he remarks.
I grimace. "No," I say, shaking my head.
"I haven't escaped," I tell him quietly, looking down at the ground. "James brought me here."
Toby folds his arms over his chest. "How is he treating you?" He asks me, his words underlined with anger and concern.
"Things aren't so bad," I reply quietly. "How are things back... at the Daltons' place?" I ask him. I had been about to ask how things were back home, but that's not my home anymore.
"Everybody misses you a lot," Toby tells me sadly. "I 'accidentally' spilled coffee on Leora's favorite dress after Adelaide told us what she'd done," he says.
"I bet she was furious," I reply.
Toby shakes his head. "She doesn't know yet," he replies, making me laugh.
"She'll assume it was you," I reply, worried about my brother's wellbeing.
Toby waves me off. "I don't give a fuck. She didn't have to do that to you," he hisses, tears welling up in his eyes.
I nod, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my coat.
"Wait. Are you wearing designer clothes?" He asks, a little confused.
I glance down at my outfit before shrugging. "I left all my clothes except for the ones I was wearing behind so that the other debtors could use them. James really had no choice but to buy me new clothes," I explain.
"Wow. I'm surprised that asshole would even do something like that," he spits back.
I laugh. "He's not-", "Oh please don't tell me you were about to defend him," Toby hisses at me.
"I wasn't going to defend him, exactly," I reply, drawing out the words. "But he isn't quite as awful as I originally thought he was."
Toby rolls his eyes. "Erin, do you even hear yourself?! This is the guy that forced you to kiss him at the coffee shop! The guy that got you transferred to work for him just because you called him a dirty name once!" He spits at me, throwing his arms out. He glances around the cemetery.
"Where is the bastard anyways?" He asks.
"Back at the car," I reply quietly.
"So, you're alone?" He asks me.
I nod. "Yeah. I was really surprised that he let me off on my own," I add with a bit of a laugh.
Toby's eyes get wide. "Erin, don't you see? This is the perfect chance for us to escape," he says, his last few words a whisper.
I glance to the woods. Toby is right. This would be the perfect opportunity.
But I promised James I wouldn't. And if I do try to run and end up getting caught he's going to be furious. He'd never trust me. Never leave me alone again. Not to mention, if I run, he's allowed to punish me however he sees fit. By law and as stated in our contract. A contract I willingly signed.
I sigh. "There are drones and scanners out there. They'll still find us," I protest, because it's better than explaining to him that I don't want to break James' trust.
"There are ways to avoid them," Toby replies.
"Not when they're hidden and blend in with the forest," I spit back.
Toby narrows his eyes at me. "It's starting to sound like you don't want to run from him," he tells me.
I run my hands over my face in exasperation. "It's just, how many debtors do you know that made a run for it and actually got out?" I ask him. "Martin turned himself back in for fuck's sake!"
"Martin is weak. You and I? We've had to rely only on each other for the past ten years. We could make it," he says, trying hard to convince me.
"Oh, and by making it, I'm assuming you mean spending our lives on the run? Always glancing over our shoulders? Always sleeping with one eye open?" I ask him indignantly.
"That sounds exhausting and stressful and difficult. Not to mention, where would we stay? What would we eat? We couldn't trust anybody," I protest.
Toby stares at me for a long time, fire burning in his eyes.
"Oh my god," he breathes out in realization. "You don't want to leave him do you?" He asks, shaking his head as a cynical laugh escapes his throat.
"No, Toby, it's not that... it's just that things are complicated," I say. But I can't tell him about our agreement. He wouldn't understand.
He scoffs. "Oh yeah, I'm sure things are really complicated! Erin, he's manipulating you! Any sense of loyalty you feel towards the bastard is coerced and fake!" He spits.
I did not come here to argue with my brother.
"Toby, we came here to visit our mother's grave. We didn't come here to fight with each other," I say, trying to defuse the situation.
"If we run, our chances of getting caught are more than likely. I've made quite the reputation for myself. If I keep breaking the rules, you know where I'll end up," I continue and I tell that my brother is beginning to calm down.
"And Thomas and Adelaide and Keary need you. Are you just going to leave our friends to fend for themselves?" I ask him.
I can see that he's contemplating my words and I keep going. "James knows the Daltons. Maybe we can work out some kind of agreement where we can see each other on a regular basis. But you know they'd never even consider it if we tried to run," I add.
After a long moment Toby sighs heavily. "I hate when you're right," he murmurs.
"I know," I reply with a bit of a smile.
"Alright. But if he hurts you," Toby drops his sentence, his words laced with warning.
I shake my head, smirking at him. "I need to be getting back," I say.
He nods pulling me in for another hug. "I'm going to miss you," he tells me.
"I'll miss you too, but I'll talk to James and see if we can work something out," I say, pulling away.
Toby nods. "Be careful, Erin," he tells me. "Please just be careful."
"I will be," I agree, glancing to our mother's grave once more. "Goodbye, Toby," I say and he waves at me as I turn and walk away.
When I get back to the car, James is almost surprised. "I was just about to come looking for you," he says, his words edged with warning. He looks like he's been deep in thought.
"I'm not going anywhere," I reply softly as I shut the door, buckling my seatbelt.
"Better not, slave," James replies, his words playful and threatening at the same time. "Or you're going to regret it."
I laugh a little. "Yes, Master," I reply, smiling at him.
"Come on, let's go home," he says, pulling out of the parking lot.
As we drive, I remain silent thinking about my conversation with Toby.
I could have run away. With the cemetery right at the edge of the city, it probably would have been the best place to attempt it. But I didn't.
Instead, I convinced my brother not to try. We probably could have made it further than I would like to admit and since the cemetery is old and unkempt it probably would have taken the police a while to realize we were missing.
But I chose to follow the rules. I chose to obey James. For whatever reason, I put him above my brother, above my own freedom.
I'm not sure what that reason is, but I do know that I'm not ready to confront myself about it yet.
A/N: I hope you're all still enjoying the book! (I'm the only one left on this group so I guess it's my personal account now)
Your support is very appreciated and I love each and every one of you! 🤍
Just wanted to give a quick shout out to sweetlikeahoneybee for keeping me inspired, giving me new ideas, and for being the best reader and friend ever! Thank you! 🤍