She kissed the man willingly—even initiated it. Through the grainy footage, her voice was faintly audible: "Do you like it?"
The video was short. Celine nearly choked on her own rage.
Her foot slammed into my chest. "This is the daughter you raised."
I crashed to the floor.
The pain cut through the fog in my head—just for a moment.
I stared at the screen, something like grief stirring beneath the haze. "Sophie... how could she? Did I fail to protect her after all?"
Then the drugs pulled me back under.
I lay on the cold floor, giggling like an idiot.
The clip was only a few seconds long, dated three days ago. It told us nothing about where my daughter was now.
Instructor Knox had suggested I might know Sophie's whereabouts.
Celine's fists came down on me again and again. Even when I started coughing up blood, she didn't stop.
"Tell me." She grabbed my ear and twisted, wrenching it until I felt the cartilage start to tear. "Where is she?"
"I don't know!" The words came out as a sob.
I really didn't.
I hadn't seen my daughter in so long.
The people at the Men's Virtue Program told me I had too many negative reviews. They said I needed five thousand satisfied clients to give me positive ratings before they'd let me see her.
So I kept taking the pills. Kept seeing the clients.
The drugs did something to my brain. Even in the gaps between doses, everything stayed blurry. My thoughts scattered like startled birds. Sometimes I saw things that weren't there.
Celine kicked me again, disgusted. She turned to Instructor Knox. "Where would the girl most likely go? Search everywhere. Every inch."
She wrenched my arms behind my back and shoved me forward. "Find her."
I stumbled along, not knowing where I was going.
Instinct carried me to my quarters.
This was where I slept. Where I'd been caged for six months.
The moment I stepped inside, the memories flooded back—none of them good.
My eyes darted around the room, wild with fear. Then I crept toward the closet and pressed a finger to my lips.
"Shh," I whispered. "Stay hidden, sweetheart. Don't come out. Don't make a sound."
Celine shoved me into the corner.
"Sophie!" she barked. "Are you hiding in there?"
She yanked the closet door open so hard it nearly toppled over.
Then she froze.
The closet was empty.
Completely empty—except for a single two-inch photograph taped to the back wall.
Sophie's face smiled out at us. Sweet. Innocent.
Like a memorial portrait.
Celine's eyes went bloodshot. She grabbed my collar and hauled me up until we were nose to nose. "Are you playing games with me, Timothy? Do you think I'm a joke?"
I shook my head frantically, trembling, begging without words.
One of Celine's friends frowned. "Celine... does Timothy seem off to you?"
"He looks like he's suffered some kind of psychological trauma. He's not all there."
Celine let out a cold laugh. "He's just a good actor. What trauma could he possibly have?"
"This facility is reputable. Excellent reviews."
"And even if something had happened, he could have called me anytime. I would have come immediately."
The others nodded in agreement.
I stared at Celine, the bitterness rising in my throat like bile.
One phone call, and you would have come?
Really?
The day I arrived at the Men's Virtue Program, Instructor Knox confiscated my phone. Then she sent me to my first client.
I was terrified. Furious. I screamed and cursed at them.
That night, they beat me until I couldn't stand.
When Sophie and I tried to escape, she created a distraction so I could slip into Instructor Knox's office. I managed to steal her phone.
