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“Quade! Quade! What are you doing?!” I scream in a panic, flailing until he tightens his grip and holds my arms still.
“Why did you lock the doors Fiona?” he asks with all the calmness of a psychopath. “Why didn’t you answer my text Fiona? You knew I was in town…why didn’t you answer me?”
“I’m sorry,” I plead. “You’re hurting my wrists. Quade… Quade…please let go of my wrists. I promise I’ll talk to you, just please let go,” I say in the most neutral voice I can muster.
“Can I trust you?” he asks with sickening condescension. “I can’t have you throwing things at me. You could have hurt me. I bought you that lamp, you know. I don’t appreciate you throwing our things.”
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry. You scared me, that’s all. I didn’t know who you were Quade! Why would you surprise me like that?!” As I begin to raise my voice again, I feel his hands automatically tighten. My fingers are shriveled into claws, with no blood or feeling left in them. “Quade, please.” I sweeten my voice back to a gentle beg. “I can’t feel my hands Quade, please…that’s too tight. I can’t feel my hands anymore.”
“When did you start locking up at night Fiona?” he asks as he loosens his grip enough for me to wiggle my fingers again.
“I don’t know. I just did it one night without thinking and then it became a habit. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a habit now. Quade…I wasn’t trying to lock you out. I thought you were busy. You haven’t texted since this morning and I just had a busy day and forgot about it…I’m sorry,” I say in a strategically agreeable tone.
I’m shaking like a leaf and have never felt so physically helpless in my life. Quade wouldn’t have even been strong enough to grab me and hold me like this before…who has my ex husband become?
Finally he releases my hands completely and I fall forward onto my two numb, useless stumps, tears streaming from my eyes. I try not to sniffle, not to let Quade hear that I’m crying, that I’m weak. I lie motionless, waiting for him to say or do something, anything, but he holds still in the darkness. He does not turn on any lights, but I can make out his hovering silhouette in the shadows my eyes have adjusted to.
Oddly, I have no instinct to kick and scream or call the police. I mentally rehearse it; I could bolt away from him in the darkness and lock myself into the bathroom with my phone. But my intuition tells me not to do this, that he wouldn’t run out to his car and flee, that he would break down my old bathroom door if he had to. I don’t know this powerful new Quade and I’m terrified out of my mind.
It seems like an eternity as he watches over me, lying still on my bed, trying not to make a single move that might incite a response from him. My fear only escalates throughout this expanse of unknown. What is he doing? What is he thinking? Should I try to say something? I get the sinking feeling I should not.
Finally…something happens…but it’s almost a worst case scenario. I feel the side of my bed sink down again, as Quade lowers himself and reclines. I’m curled on my side in such a way that I can see him behind me, propped on his elbow to peer over at my face. I keep my eyes squinted, pretending they’re closed, until he reclines fully and places his hands on my naked shoulders. In an instant I roll off the other side of the bed and stand with my arms across my chest.
“Well I can feel my hands again…that kinda freaked me out Quade,” I say, sounding like I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. “Lemme just throw a robe on and we can talk, okay?”
Without taking my eyes off the dark blob on my bed, I slip an arm into the closet and grab my thick, long, full-coverage winter robe. But before I can get it on, Quade’s standing inches in front of me.
“That’s not necessary,” he says, grabbing the edge of the robe so I can’t finish wrapping it.
“Oh come on sweets, I’m cold.” Now resorting to tender placation, I fear what he might do if I get hostile.
“As I said, that’s not necessary. I’m here to keep you warm.”
My instinct is to freeze up like a statue and shut him out, but I’m afraid I must yield something lest he become aggressive again and take even more. My body’s been next to his thousands of times; this shouldn’t be scary…but it is. I’m grossed out to an almost inexplicable degree. I stop struggling against him with the robe and allow him to move forward, farther into my personal space. He’s fully clothed but I can feel his body heat searing with mine, not a sensation I’m used to. He was always on the chilly side before. Again, I don’t recognize this new alien Quade.
He leans in and breathes onto my neck, placing his open lips against it. To bolt out of the room, I would have to move around both Quade and my bed. I would not be able to detour to the bedside table and grab my phone. As Quade tests the waters further, now opening my robe to place both hands on my hips, I feel that slim window of opportunity shrinking to something even more minute.
I make an executive decision to do the only thing I see possible, to play it cool. I slowly raise my hands to my shoulders and drop the heavy robe to the floor.
“How did you get in here anyway?” I ask with a phony giggle, as he continues kissing my neck and tightens his grip on my hips.
“With my key, Cookie. You know I’ve always kept keys to my own house.”
Of course. In nine years it’s never come up, but he never turned over his copies of the keys. Sensing my sudden lack of resistance, Quade moves toward my lips and I put a manicured fingertip against his with a smile.
“Not so fast,” I say seductively, and he actually allows me to move around him…bending onto the bed and crawling across it on all fours.
Mouth gaping, he is fully transfixed. I roll over and lie back, stretching the length of my body across the top blanket, presenting. As Quade rips his shirt over his head, I can make out his rows of muscles even in the shadows. His arms, chest, and abs make him look like a different person, impressive yet simultaneously chilling. What would possess him to suddenly take to hard workouts in his middle age?
He reaches to unbutton his khakis and peels them down with his underpants. As they roll to his lower thighs, I seize that exact moment to exit.
“Hang on…I’ll get my vibrator,” I quip as I roll off the edge of the bed nearest the door, leaving him on the other side.
I try to look unhurried as I disappear around the doorway, then grab a towel from a bathroom down the hall and quietly sprint down the stairs and out the front door. The moon is full and the yard is bright. With two acres of property, there’s a lot of room between me and my neighbors and I can now hear Quade yelling in the house. I’m naked; surely he thinks I’m sane enough to hide somewhere inside. But if he gets near a window, he’ll easily see me streaking across the yard in this moonlight. And my pale pink towel will give me away if I hide under the bushes.
I stop breathing when I hear the front door slam. He’s out here with me. I run around to the back of the house and then panic, having no idea which side he’ll pop out on. My heartbeat is in my ears as I take off at full speed, straight across the backyard and toward the road…desperately clutching my tightly waded towel. I slide down the steep bank that separates the yard from the road, my feet scraping noisily across mud and leaves, and wrap the towel around myself at last.
As I glide down the road toward the other houses, I can see everyone’s lights are off. I have nothing but this towel and no phone. I’ll walk the few blocks to Holly’s townhouse and yell at the door if I have to. Frantically looking behind me every few seconds, I race over asphalt and gravel… unconcerned with the battering my feet are taking.
