AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know. I’m sorry. I feel bad about that, I do.”
“What are you going to do?” Alek asked again.
“I know you aren’t taking your meds,” Ian yelled over the squall.
“What gave it away? The fact that I was having a funeral for an invisible fox?”
“You were going to leave? Without saying goodbye? Without a note?”
“I thought we already had goodbye sex. We could go again if you’d like,” Alek said, like cutting him out of his life was as painless as snipping an errant thread.
“You were going to kill yourself,” Ian said, and the enormity of it all, how close Alek had come to death, how close Ian had come to losing him, how precarious this all still was. All of the fear, running on adrenaline, feigning sleep, hardly able to sleep, to even blink for fear of what might happen. It all rose up like a rogue wave. Through the tears that threatened and the panic that loomed and the sudden bone-weary exhaustion that made his knees weak, Ian went on,
“Did you really think I would let you do that? That I’d let you go? When will you get it through that thick skull of yours that you matter, that you’re worth the fight, that I love you?”
When Alek said nothing, Ian checked that his bindings were secure and crossed to a pile of leftover building materials—stacks of bricks, heavy bags of mortar, scattered tools, thick garden shears with blades so sharp they could sever a limb.
“This is no time for construction, Ian.” Alek’s bravado was thinning. His tone might have been teasing, but his voice cracked with a streak of fear.
Nine bricks over from the left, Ian started lifting bricks and tossing them aside. Five rows of bricks down was a pair of cinder blocks Ian had hidden there for when the time was right. He’d already prepped and tied the rope around each block. His years in construction had given him a pretty accurate sense of measurement.
Carrying one cinder block in each hand, Ian walked to the edge of the pool, and tossed both blocks in. The storm was so loud he couldn’t even hear the splash.
“No. Ian, no!” Alek thrashed violently.
“You’re so smart,” Ian said as he returned to his side. “I love that about you.”
Ian had a few other scenarios stashed around the house like a game of Clue. A blue tarp and an unloaded gun behind the cleaning supplies under their kitchen sink. A razor blade tucked beneath the crown molding in their bathroom. A noose to hang from the third-story window.
“It’s very convenient, this thunderstorm,” Ian remarked. “I’m glad I didn’t have to throw you in the pool first, or dive in after you.”
He’d stolen the idea from Dr. Modorovic, or maybe, the beginning of an idea. It’s not like she called him up one night and suggested he frame Alek for suicide. Thanks to Ian’s surreptitious study of Bulgarian—so he was prepared in the event Alek somehow lost his English again—he’d overheard Dr. Modorovic’s long-ago threat to call in a fake complaint for suicidal ideation. Ian had just taken it one step further.
“Please. I’ll stay. I won’t leave. I’ll take the meds. I’ll tell you everything,” Alek begged as he fought his restraints like he was fighting for his life.
Ian wanted to believe him. He didn’t want this. But Alek was lying and if Ian had to make Alek hate him to save him, then he’d do what he had to do.
“My name used to be Aleksandar Vel?—”
Ian rushed to cover Alek’s mouth. “Don’t say another word. You’ll tell me when it’s because you want to. When you’ve forgiven yourself. Besides, telling me won’t save you.”
Alek unleashed a muffled litany of curse words in a mix of English and Bulgarian.
Ian lifted his hand and snipped the rope that had Alek hogtied, leaving him with only his wrists and ankles restrained. While Alek struggled in vain to free himself from his remaining bindings, Ian removed his phone from his pocket.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency,” said the male operator.
Good. He’d worried he’d get the same operator from before. What if she remembered him? What if he didn’t sound convincing by comparison?
Channeling the very real fear he had for Alek’s life and adding a dash of anguish over losing him, Ian said, “My fiancé. I just pulled him out of the pool! He’s mentally ill. Cinder blocks tied to his ankles. Please. You have to come help him.” Ian listed off the Victorian’s address.
“Is he breathing?”
Ian looked at Alek. He’d turned onto his side, eyes cold, eerily watching in silence.
“He’s okay. I got him right after he jumped in, but he’s not acting right. He’s off his meds. I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep him safe,” Ian said with faux desperation.
“I’ll dispatch a sheriff to your location. It’ll be about twenty minutes. I’ll send an ambulance too, but they’re farther out.”
