3:03 P.M.
Miranda raised her right fist to the door and froze in place while her gaze dipped. In the next instant, she swallowed, wet her dry lips, and knocked on the solid panel.
“Enter.”
She slunk into the room and took in the space—subdued lighting, plush brown carpeting, wood-paneled walls, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase on the left wall, fireplace on the far wall, mounted animal heads above the fireplace mantel.
“Ah, Miranda.” Seated at a desk in front of the fireplace, Hendricks stood and ambled to the other side of his workspace. “Please,” he motioned, “come here.”
Her eyes shifting, her mind processing the rest of the den—couch on the right, floor lamps emitting a yellowish glow, bearskin rug under Hendricks’ feet—she walked up to the bear’s snout and stopped to stare at the dead animal’s black eyes.
Rocking back and forth on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back, the over-fifty man smiled from underneath a thick, gray mustache and displayed whiter-than-usual teeth for someone half a century old.
Miranda shot him a look—weathered, tanned skin, receding hairline, wide nose—before gawking at the deceased beast again. She caught a whiff of aftershave. Dad had something like that. Her mind drifted. Mom. Dad.
“You’ll be sixteen tomorrow.” Hendricks paced to his right. “A big day. You’ll become a full member of our community.” He spun and paced the other way. “I’ve kept my eye on you ever since you came to us a few years ago.”
Miranda clenched her teeth. Since you bastards took me, you mean.
“You’ve always been quick to look out for the other children, especially the younger ones. You’ve made their,” he paused, “transitional period here much more enjoyable.” He did a one-eighty and retraced his steps. Stopping a few footfalls later, he cranked his head toward the teen.
She looked away.
He smiled. “You needn’t be afraid, child. Like a good shepherd, I care for, I love all in my flock.” He pivoted his six-foot frame toward her. “You should know I’ve received requests from a number of eligible suitors for you.”
Miranda’s stomach muscles contracted.
“Normally, I make the final decision; however,” he jabbed a finger at her, “you’re a special young lady. And, as such, I wanted you to have a say in deciding on the man with whom you will be joined.”
She bit her lower lip.
Hendricks cocked his head and admired the five-six, lanky girl who had flourished over the years in all the physical areas teenage girls usually did. She’s practically a woman. His eyes went down and up her figure. “I’d like you to come see me tomorrow night.”
Miranda’s heart rate jumped. Her knees went rubbery.
“Until then...” Hendricks smiled and motioned toward the door.
She spun and fast walked for the first few steps, Slow down, before controlling her pace. Don’t let them see fear.
*******
Miranda crossed the compound with long and determined strides. She stared straight ahead, but noticed several men in her peripheral vision, all of them rubbernecking her. Hendricks’ words: I’ve received requests from a number of eligible suitors for you. Her insides quaking, she neared her cabin. Keep it together. You’re almost there. Don’t let them see... she burst through the front door and rushed toward her room.
Chrissy stood. “Miranda. What’s wr—”
Miranda stormed into her bedroom, slammed the door, and closed a curtain, hiding her from the outside world. Folding hands over her nose and mouth, I’d like you to come see me tomorrow night, she made several passes by the foot of her bed.
A knock.
She shot a look at the door.
“Miranda? Are you okay?”
“Not,” Miranda’s voice cracked, “not now, Chris—Emma. I’m,” as he had done with every new girl, Hendricks had given Chrissy a new name, Emma, “I’m,” Miranda pumped hands toward the voice, “just leave me alone, Emma.”
Ten back-and-forth trips later, Miranda dropped to her knees near the bed’s headboard, slid fingers between the mattress and bed rail, and withdrew an object from one of several hiding places in the cabin. Resting elbows on the bedspread, she leaned forward and pressed down on the object with her forefinger.
The blade on the stiletto flipped open.
His words played over and over in her mind while she stared at the knife...come see me tomorrow night. I’d like you to come see me tomorrow night...I’d like you to...
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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