I stopped at a stall run by Old Colony Mennonites: big, broad men in denim overalls and cowboy hats, gnarled, thick-knuckled hands hanging by their si...es. They had purple-red shallots and garlic; a bakery provided a day-old baguette on sale.Standing in line at a gourmet chocolate stall, I texted Violet. Her reply was immediate; all was fine at home.A few other items and I was done. Pleased with myself, I headed back to the car. The sea air was already heavy with the smell of another incoming. So I was taken, poked and prodded, blood was taken from, shaved, all by people with cold hands. I havent talked since that day. Not even in my sleep. I stayed silent while they pulled each of my limbs or heard their whispers. I cried, I admit that, but never spoke. The hope that my brother was real was shattered when I saw the man that portrayed him. I cried then, seeing my ray of hope die with the handsome man with green eyes and human ears walking into my cell that day. He is my captor. Or. More

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