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I rub my eyes and try the door again. I don’t know what I’m thinking. That I’m in some kind of Bond movie? I push it open slowly, though. Real quiet, like 007. Inside the main room, it’s dark and silent. They’re not here.
I blow a quiet breath out. Step inside. And stand there. To my left is the little waiting area where she took my blood pressure just after we got back from the burrow. To the right, a long, pale blue curtain that divides the area with the beds from the big space in front of me, which has the cabinets and a receptionist desk.
If I go around the curtain to my right and pass the area with beds, I can walk into that little hall and listen at the door of the residence.
I keep my footsteps quiet on the pale linoleum as I make my way around the curtain. That’s when I hear it—a grunting sound. It stops me in my tracks and makes my body start to tremble. I know from the first sound…but I keep quiet, listening. I hear the grunt again, and the sound of a zipper. Oh, fuck—NO. The curtain to my right feels like it’s tilting.
I hear Finley’s whimper. No. No, no, no. But she’s whimpering—this sort of groaned whimper that turns into a high-pitched whimper as I hear springs creak. He makes a low sound in his throat, and my head starts to float on top of my shoulders.
She whimpers. He grunts. She whimpers, and that’s when, slowly, through the haze, I realize Finley doesn’t whimper like that.
Does she?
No, she doesn’t.
Finley is a screamer. If she’s not screaming, she’s gasping, groaning…whispering. She whimpers more, and something thick and hot and prickling starts to crawl up my neck. I can’t move…and then I have to. I can’t keep myself from stepping to the curtain’s end and walking quietly around it.
Each bed has its own curtain, and the one around the bed where we were last night is pulled shut. She whimpers again, and her voice cracks. I pulse white hot as the whimper turns to a small cry. Finley starts to cry, and he says, “Oh, I think you shouldn’t worry. You’ll enjoy this.”
I’m so hot, so frozen, so filled up with horror. I don’t know how I get my legs to move me across the space of the floor to that curtain, but I reach out and snatch it back, and there they are.
She’s on her back without a shirt on, and he’s over her. For a terrifying, black hole second, I can only see the back of him, his asscrack and his legs, and I think he’s inside her. Then I step closer, and I see Finley’s underwear. Oh Jesus. Fucking Christ. My pulse gallops. My knees tremble with relief—and then he’s up and coming at me.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
My eyes magnet to Finley, and I realize that her arms are down in front of her, cinched in a belt. Her pretty face is red and tear-streaked. On her left cheek, there’s an awful bruise.
I don’t know what happens, how it starts or anything, except we’re on the floor, and I’m on top of him. I’m whaling on his face, and I can feel his bone, the sticky thickness of his blood as I try to rip his head off his body. He keeps trying to talk, and I’m laughing, and I’m busting through his face because he hurt her and you don’t hurt Finley! It might be okay to hurt me but you never hurt her—
“NEVER. HURT. HER. Do you fucking hear me? Never—” smash him— “ever—” fuck you— “EVER hurt her or I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU.”
Every time his head snaps back, I feel another shot of satisfaction. Someone’s screaming, but it’s dim and far away. Then someone grabs me from behind. Someone’s arm is locked around my throat. Someone’s on my back. I fight them like an animal until the fucker’s on the floor. It’s Freddy.
“Fuck.”
He’s bleeding from his forehead, and one of his eyes is swollen shut. I look at the doctor. There’s a pool of blood around him. Finley’s huddled by the bed, sobbing. I rush toward her, wanting to get that belt off. Someone shrieks, and her friend Anna steps in front of me. She waves her arms as pain blooms in my head.
Sixteen
Finley
The sea at dusk. I squint my leaking eyes, and that’s what Anna’s blue tin roof looks like. I can’t wrench my gaze away from it. I’m lying on my back on Anna’s marriage bed, but if I stare up at the roof for long enough, I can pretend we’re in a boat out on these deep blue waters. It’s twilight, and we’re holding each other. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Declan. I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know I’m speaking till she whispers, “It’s not your fault. He went mad, Finley.”
I blink at the ceiling.
Where is he? I’ll find out when Freddy’s back. As Mrs. White and Holly worked on Doctor, Freddy and Father Russo dragged Declan off. I saw him upright outside, but Anna and Mrs. Acton didn’t let me near him. Mayor Acton stayed behind while Anna and Mrs. Acton brought Kayti and I here.
Mrs. Acton took me into the bathroom and asked me what happened. I wanted to tell her, but I could only weep. She handed me tissues. I wiped my face and blew my nose, and after, Anna brought me to the bed she shares with Freddy.
“Did you want the belt?” she whispers now.
I stare at my smearing ocean.
&n
bsp; “Was Doctor angry with you? I could see his skull bone, Finley,” she whispers. “It’s miraculous that he was speaking when we left.”
