Free King of Me by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

waded in the water for several moments and then hesitantly lifted my shaky hand to wave.
    A look of surprise overtook her face, and she sprinted away, disappearing into the forest.
    At that moment, something sharp jabbed my toe as I bounced along the bottom. “Shit!” The pain seared its way up my leg, and I paddled back to the shore where I crawled from the water.
    “Oh no.” Blood seeped from a small puncture wound. My vision blurred, and I tried to blink it away, but the burn traveled quickly into my chest, cramping every muscle I had.
    I fell onto my back. Real. Not a dream. Real, Mia.
     
    ~~~
     
    Sharp-toned words, spoken in a loud hiss, were what woke me this second time around. I couldn’t understand a single damned thing, but a woman and man argued over something.
    Cautiously, I popped open one eye and found myself lying on a wooden table. The home looked to have three rooms without any doors. The walls were made of smooth white plaster and a thatched roof with wooden beams. Wherever we were, these were very simple people who lived without electricity or running water.
    I slowly began to move the rest of my body, surveying the damage. Someone had draped a flimsy piece of fabric, too small to be called a sheet, over most of my torso. My leg throbbed, too, but my foot burned like a sonofabitch. Both had been bandaged.
    Shit. What happened? I wasn’t sure what to do or say because the situation had zero explanation. Not only that, but I didn’t know where I was or how I’d gotten there. I only knew I didn’t ever want to go back to the hell I’d run from. There would be no saving myself in that place, which meant there’d be no redemption for that evil bastard I’d trusted like a fool, which meant there’d be no saving Justin. What would happen to my poor parents now?
    Simply put, everything was fucked. Fucked up beyond salvation.
    And if I ever get the chance, I will hunt King down and end him. What King did to me, whatever the reason, there would be no forgiving. No amount of hate in this world could measure up to the rage I felt. Evil bastard. I hope you burn in hell.
    The only questions now were: Where the hell was I? And how long would it take for King to find me?
    I hope never.
    I then realized I still wore the silver cuff on my left wrist. Was there some chance that the bracelet had worked and taken me somewhere “far, far away where King would never find me”?
    I sat up slowly, and the young woman shrieked and jumped back, as did the man. It was the same woman who’d watched me on the beach.
    “Anyone happen to speak English?” I ground out my words, my brain throbbing against the inner walls of my skull.
    The man with deep brown skin, in his late forties perhaps, wearing a simple-looking, cream-colored tunic that hung down to his knees, pointed at me and barked a few angry words.
    “I don’t understand,” I said.
    He grabbed a clump of my blonde hair and shouted as if accusing me of some wrongdoing. Was I in a country where women showing hair was a crime? But no, the young woman in the room wore hers loose, and her dress, though long and unrevealing, showed plenty of shoulder and neck.
    He looked at the young woman—also with dark skin and hair and perhaps in her late teens—and screamed at her again before storming outside.
    “What was that about?” I asked.
    The woman and I exchanged several awkward glances, but she didn’t speak.
    I carefully swung my feet to the dirt floor. “I’m Mia. Mia.” I pointed to myself.
    Her eyes lit up. “Kitane.” She pointed to her chest.
    “Kitane,” I repeated. “I need to find a phone.” I made a phone shape with my hand and held it up to my face. “Phone?”
    She shook her head.
    Crap . No phones. Well, there had to be one somewhere, maybe in the nearest town.
    I tried to stand but staggered on my wobbly legs.
    She protested and made me sit, quickly plucking a small twig from the dirt floor and drawing a picture of a snake.
    Great. A