There are fewer than one hundred women living in my neighborhood. I have a feeling that there are more of us, kept in smaller sections around the city. My former friend believes it is for convenience, but I can’t shake the feeling a more sinister purpose exists.
—The diary of Megan Jean
The sun was starting to rise and Mia was getting nervous. Everything looked familiar. The landscape was filled with cornfields and random patches of trees in the background. For the past two hours Mia had been getting off at every exit and heading west, trying to see if anything sparked a memory of her former home. She remembered from the night she left her father’s farm that it was located on the same road as the highway entrance, and that was all the information she had. Mia had never known the name of her town, and she wasn’t certain she lived in one. There was nobody else nearby. Whenever her father had taken her off the property they had always driven for at least thirty minutes.
Mia glanced down at the gun on the floor that one of the Agents had left. As soon as she arrived at her parents’ home she would point the weapon at her father, threaten him until he gave her the information she needed. They had to have some proof of the sale of their daughter. Mia was certain her father wouldn’t lose track of business records.
Mia came up to another exit and turned off the highway. She headed west and the sun was growing in her rearview mirror. The exhaustion was starting to overtake her. Mia didn’t know what was worse, the mental or physical pain. She was starting to lose focus again. She needed something to distract her as she kept the car on the road while scanning the area looking for any semblance of home.
Andrew was always a good distraction, but the pleasant memories of his kiss, his touch, and the elusive smile he gave only her, the one where his brown eyes warmed and melted her insides, had been replaced. Andrew didn’t trust her or believe in her. He still saw her as property, only now she was his property. His actions showed that. Andrew kept too many secrets from her and did so under the guise of protecting her. Mia did not need his protection.
The anger in her was rising again. All of them had used her. It started in Saint Louis. She thought about Lisa, the woman she didn’t get a chance to speak with much. Lisa was Mia’s first point of contact with Affinity and all of them kept it from her. If the world was a game of chess Mia felt like a pawn.
Mia was so distracted she didn’t notice that the corn had faded away. Then she saw it. The long gravel drive. Mia turned her head and spotted the large farmhouse in the distance. Her heart started to ache in her chest and she headed down the drive. She thought about what she would say to her parents.
There were no words. Mia knew it would be difficult to keep her composure and not ask a million questions. But stopping the Registry was more important than hearing excuses about the society her parents were willing participants in. Mia hoped she could keep her nerves under control long enough to get the information she needed.
The farmhouse grew closer and before Mia knew it she was ready to stop the car. She switched off the engine. Mia picked up the gun and opened the door. She started marching toward the porch and up the steps. All of her rage bubbled in her chest. She would be in and out of there in ten minutes, not giving her parents the opportunity to call Grant and let him know his lost property had returned. Mia would tell her parents how she hated them and what awful people they were. But the second Mia’s hand touched the doorknob she froze.
Mia did not hate her parents. They were victims of the system, just as she had been. If Corinna had been unable to open their eyes Mia was unlikely to change anything. This was a mistake. Mia felt the urge to run. She dropped the handle and twisted her body away. Before she could make it down the steps the front door swung open.
“Mia?”
She turned back around. It was her mother. It had been months since Mia had seen her. She was standing in the doorway, wearing her pajamas from the night before; her hair had started to gray but she was more beautiful than Mia remembered.
“Mia, is it really you?”
Mia stood on the edge of the steps. Open and honest communication. That was Flo’s advice. Mia looked at her mother and was at a loss for words. She opened her mouth, but none came out. Instead a sob made its way toward Mia’s lips. She felt her legs give out and was sure she would hit the porch, but instead her mother caught her. She wrapped her arms around Mia, who buried her head into her shoulder. Mia continued to cry. She cried for the loss of Flo, she cried for Affinity’s betrayal, but most of all Mia cried because she was happy to see her mother.