I felt her grab a curl at the back of my head and heard the tell-tale sound of scissors cutting.
It’s only hair, Ella, I told myself, but my tears still came.
She hacked at my hair until there was hardly anything left. Just tufts of red hanging my ears, I dared to look down at one point during the whole thing and saw clumps of hair on the floor. There was no logic to her torture; what was she gaining by taking away my hair? Was she trying to rip the last shred of personality I had? Take away the one thing that I’d managed to cling on during my imprisonment?
When she was satisfied I looked horrendous, she left me alone once more.
And it was when my sobs subsided, and I was quiet once more, when I heard it.
The gunshot.
The gunshot that came from beyond the wall in front of me.
Carter.
Shit, I never knew that I could feel claustrophobic, but the farther I trekked inside these narrow tunnels, the worse I felt. It was a strange sensation, as though invisible hands were snaking around my throat, an unknown heavy force pressing against my chest, the feeling as though someone was watching me. The damn heat wasn’t helping either, sweat poured from my head, dripping into my eyes; the bottles of water Archie had forced me were almost empty, and I still had ten minutes or so to walk.
The guys had dug the mines out once more, up until the point where a room was found. They didn’t want to get involved any more than that, so what waited for me was a mystery. The thought of kids being kept down here made my skin crawl, and now and then had me looking at the tattoo I’d had done on my forearm. An angel in prayer, in memory of the son or daughter that would forever remain young. Purgatory’s Angels I found out Vlad called it. Sick mother fucker. These were baby girls sent away from their mothers left and raised by…who? We had no fucking clue, but I’d been given a new burst of motivation and determination to expose everything, the claustrophobia wasn’t going to stop me. No chance.
My earpiece crackled, and Archibald’s voice filtered into my ear. “Almost there, my boy, half a mile, maybe less.”
“And you’re sure these run near Vlad’s mansion?”
“Certain. We just couldn’t pinpoint the exact location as the room was never part of the plans, for obvious reasons.”
I sighed, wiping sweat from my face. “Jesus. What if there’s loads down there, Arch? What the hell are we going to do with them all?”
“Nancy and I will look after them for the time being until we can find their mothers.” There was tension in the old man’s voice, as though there was more to that sentence, and I knew what it was: Until we can find their mothers, if they’re not dead, of course.
I was silent for a moment, navigating a slight bend, mindful of the loose rocks either side of my head and underfoot. “They looked pretty good together, though.” I smiled.
“Jax and Ella?”
I nodded, ignoring the burning in my thighs as the bag on my back started to grow heavier. “The way she looked at him, man, when she thought no-one was looking at her.”
“I have to admit - I saw him looking at her the same way. That’s when I knew this was more, you know? Not just Jax thinking with his dick.”
I laughed at that. “In his defense, Arch, he never really thought with his dick. He had plenty of opportunity to, but other than Mindy, he’s never really been the type.
"Do you remember the girl he was seeing way back when?” Archibald asked.
“Mila? Fuck, there’s a name I haven’t heard in years.”
“I always wondered what happened to her. I never liked to ask, Jax was more secretive during his teenage years than Kendra. She’s never been shy.”
I had to bite my tongue at hearing her name. In recent weeks, when I wasn’t working with Arch and at the Murdoch’s wandering around with train-crash thoughts, Kendra was the one who had kept me company. I’d been fucking sullen and silent at first, but she wouldn’t give up. She’d sit there with me in a weirdly, comfortable silence, drinking with me into the night when Nancy wasn’t home, tempting me with food, which I almost always refused to eat. After a while, she’d somehow managed to get me to speak, not about anything of importance, things like the weather, the fact that the bathroom still needed re-tiling, we’d even FaceTimed Mindy a couple times and let her know how Jax was doing. Before I realized what was happening, I woke up in the mornings looking for to seeing Kendra and drinking her coffee.
I was sure it meant nothing. Kendra had always been the same any time she saw someone who was broken, and she was a true mother hen - with a slight attitude and a take-no-shit way about her.
Lost in thoughts of my best buddy’s sister, I almost stumbled down a considerable drop when Archie called my name. “Stop! Jesus, Cart.”
Gripping the walls either side of me, my eyes widened as I peered into the hole, the room.
“Are you fucking seeing this?” I asked, stepping just an inch closer to the drop.
“Be careful; we don’t know who has access.”
The drop was high but not too high to keep me from making the jump.
Keeping still and holding my breath, I listened for sounds, signs of life inside this tomb, and once I was sure it was clear, I lowered the bag to the floor, stretching my arm as far down as possible, so nothing inside the bag was damaged.
“I’m going in,” I said, dangling my legs over the edge before pushing myself off the wall.
I landed like a cat, silent, yet bolts of lightning pain shot through my thighs.
“You okay?”
I stood, heart, hammering at what I was seeing. “I’m fine; I’m gonna take a look around.”
I’d never expected anything like this. The entire room was open plan, everything on show, apart from the bathroom which, I assumed, was the door on the far side of the room. To my left was a small kitchen, the counters were littered with empty cartons of milk, the cupboard doors hanging by loose hinges, an overflowing trash can. There was a long wall, and running along it were six cribs. All empty. I moved closer to inspect them. Above each one on the walls were charts of some kind, detailing the babies names, father’s name, several dates written with their feeding schedules. The mattresses were all bare, filthy, and stained yellow in some places. The sight made my stomach churn. I walked past each crib, reading the notes until I came to the crib closest to the living room. Made up with pale pink sheets, they were tatty and ragged. Folded neatly at the top, was a small white blanket, its edges fraying, and an empty juice bottle lay next to it.
An icy chill shot through me.
“Arch, there’s at least one baby here. You seeing this?”
“Yes, son. Keep searching; we need all the footage we can get.”
“These notes? They’re worth taking, right?” I asked.
“Anything you think may help, Cart.”
I turned my back on the cribs to look at the front room. It was void of anything homely, just a small pea-green couch with milk and chocolate stains on it. On the floor was a rug, a red and orange monstrosity, and on top of the lay several toys, cars with wheels missing, stuffed animals with fluff hanging from their bellies and eyes missing.
But what was important was the sign of life.
Someone had been here recently, that much was obvious, and a child lived here.