Chapter 32

I never thought I would run into someone who trafficked organs. Not because I think I live in a magic bubble, but when I was out, I knew one thing because my dad often told me jokingly: I'm too thin for their tastes. That was the only advantage of my illness, I wasn't desirable to traffickers. Although he never said it. In the summer, our cell underwent a change of scenery. A few days before Rory was released, I received Donna. The doctor by trade lost her job after, what she says, a series of botched surgeries. I think she did it on purpose. Wanting to help, she found herself caught up in an organ trafficking organization and harvesting organs from victims. She did this for more than ten years and now she's finally been caught. She claims she turned herself in, but the guards' mouths tell a different story. Donna is a tall, stocky woman, used to a life of luxury.

"What about the lungs?" Madge asks curiously. "How much does a lung cost on the black market?"

We're at the cafeteria. I gave her my portion because I don't want to eat it anyway.

"Over 250 thousand."

She speaks in euros. She tells me that in her organization all transactions are made in euros.

"Have you ever had someone want to sell their organs?"

She shook herhead. Shee looked at Rosa, who asked.

"Why do you ask?" She wants to know.

She shrugged.

"A kidney?"

I hold my coffee in my hand. The advantage of being friends with cooks.

"Less. Around 130-140. The liver is 137. Skin is sold by the centimeter. Do you know that if you get tattoos, you also keep cannibals and skin traffickers at bay?"

"Why cannibals?" Jackie asks.

"Jeff Dahmer said tattooed flesh tastes bad," I reply. "Or something like that. Ares is a big fan," I explain to Rosa.

I miss Rory. She would have something to say right now. She would have some witty comment to make or something.

"She'll come back, you know," Rosa sighs. "She wouldn't survive outside."

"Rory?" Jackie smiles. "It took you a while to miss her, didn't it? Kim has been mourning her for a week."

"I have other things on my mind."

"Yes? What exactly? To suck the guard's dick?"

Rory would never have said that.

"Actually, how not to have sex. And I learned to monitor the phone," I look at the clock and get up. "Dad? Can I make a phone call, please?"

He opens the door for me and I smile back at Donna.

"This is power," I wake up whispering to myself.

It's a form of power with security. The connection to the outside and the fact that no one steps on my toes. They're not afraid but I know that with just one word from me I can keep them away from the phone. Or I can give them the right to use it.

I dial my dad's number. I wait for him to answer and ask him about his health, his work, his free time. Ask him anything. I know he's waiting for the call because I call him every day at this time. I wait. I wait. Finally, he answers.

"Kassie?"

It's not Dad's voice. Hades. What is Hades doing in Dad's house and with his phone? Why is he answering? My first thought is that something happened to Gerald. No. Mina would have let me know. Apollo and… That's not it.

"It's Hades," he continues when I can't find anything to say. "Gerald is in the shower, getting ready to come to the party with me. For my sister."

Sara's daughter. My father said something to me, vaguely. I remember it now. That still doesn't explain why. He answers.

"He told me you might call," He answers as if he knows what I'm thinking. "Let me talk to you until he comes. I know you said you don't want to hear from me. We can stay silent if you want, another 5-10 minutes until he comes."

"Your sister?" That's all I'm whispering.

"Yes. I'm having a ceremony for her, like a baptism but not really. More of a party for the sake of drinking, honestly. Her name was Hera. Sarah was thinking Persephone but I said it wasn't appropriate. I actually talked her out of it."

Persephone was calling our imaginary daughter. When we were talking about this. I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach.

"Does she look like you?" I ask him.

"She's small," she doesn't look like anyone else. "But at least she doesn't look like Sarah. I think she's leaning a little towards us."

"Then she must be gorgeous"

I know him so well, or maybe I'm just imagining it, but I can hear him sighing and I'm sure he's smiling. There's silence for a few minutes maybe. Or just a few seconds. Time passes terribly slowly.

"I miss you," he whispers.