Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 29029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“Just a minute.”
She looks over her shoulder. “What?”
“I have something else for you. I want to give it to you now.”
“You shouldn’t have, Max.”
“I know. But I’ve had it for… I bought it for you…well…a long time ago, and I want you to have it.”
“All right. What is it?”
I pull the velvet box out of my pocket and open it, revealing the purple pendant set in white gold on a thin chain.
Jenna widens her eyes, , and then she drops the flowers and runs inside the house.
4
JENNA
On the island I was known as Amethyst.
We all had names corresponding to gemstones. That’s what they called us. Gems.
Aren’t gems something special? Something to be treasured?
We weren’t treasured.
We were tortured. Abused. Hunted. Violated.
Raped repeatedly.
The scar on my face that Max tried to touch? It’s from a hunting knife. The only reason it doesn’t look worse is because the knife was so sharp and the person who brandished it was methodical.
Some of the girls were cut with dull knives.
They bear scars much worse than mine.
Why would Max bring me an amethyst necklace?
He said he’s had it for a long time. Maybe he got it for my birthday or something. He always said that in the right light, my eyes turned from blue to the violet of an amethyst. Someone on the island apparently agreed, or perhaps they gave me the name because it was the only one left. I don’t know. For some of the girls, it was obvious where their names came from. Onyx had such dark eyes that they were nearly black. Jade had green eyes. Moonstone had pale blue eyes and pale skin.
And so on and so forth…
We didn’t use our given names on the island. I was called Amethyst.
And I paid for it.
“They say your eyes are supposed to be the color of amethysts,” one derelict—Mr. Brown—said, while taunting me with the knife. “They’re blue. Simple blue. But if I cut you, right here by your eye, I’ll draw your blood, which is red. Red plus blue equals purple, the color of an amethyst. You’ll earn your name.”
Then the searing pain as he slowly sliced into my face.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
How could Max give me anything made of an amethyst?
He must not know.
Correction. He definitely doesn’t know, or he would never have given me the pendant. Only Mom and Dad and my therapists know I was called Amethyst.
I’m sitting on my bed now—my bed that has the same blue-and-green bedspread I had when I was in high school.
I’m not being fair to Max.
I bury my head in my pillow, but the tears don’t come.
Sometimes they come in abundance, and sometimes they don’t come at all.
Then a soft knock on my door…even though it isn’t closed.
Max stands in the doorway. “Jenna, I’m so sorry.”
I lift my head from the pillow. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The years have been kind to Max and his warm brown eyes. His hair is still dark, but now he wears it in a shorter style befitting a businessman. His shoulders have broadened, and he may have even grown an inch or two. He was always taller than I was, but now he makes me feel petite.
He’s wearing a long-sleeved black button-down shirt, and the first two buttons are open. A few black chest hairs peek out. I don’t recall him having chest hair before. Perhaps I never looked.
The jeans he’s wearing aren’t meant to be tight, but they hug his hips and thighs. On his feet are simple brown leather shoes.
He was always handsome—once he got over his awkward stage—but now? He could’ve walked out of the pages of GQ.
“Jenna,” he says again, “your mother told me why you reacted the way you did. I never meant—”
“I know that.”
“I bought that necklace for you back in high school. I was going to give it to you on”—he swallows—“prom night.”
“Prom night?” I lift my eyebrows. “I just figured you bought it as a birthday gift or something.”
“No. Your birthday was a month before prom, remember? I gave you a cashmere scarf.”
I smile. He’s right. I loved that scarf. Is it still here? I rise and walk to my dresser, open the bottom drawer where I used to keep my winter things…
“Yes!” I hold up the tan, black, and red striped scarf.
“Imitation Burberry,” He grins.
My last birthday before…
Max and I are about three months apart. He turned eighteen after the first of the year, and I turned eighteen about a month before prom.
“Of course I remember. Time has been a challenge for me. I mean, when I was on the—”
He shakes his head to quiet me. “No. You don’t have to talk about that.”
I nod. “Thank you. I’m not really ready. I talk to my therapists, but I’m not ready to discuss it with others. Not with my parents. Not you.”