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I force myself to listen to my voice of reason. I can’t go back there tonight. Who knows what could happen if Heath sees me again today. What I have to do is get some rest, so I can continue helping my captor in the morning. I’ll be of no use to anyone unless I get some rest.
Lying back on the silk sheets, I close my eyes and imagine a future where the powders and pills aren’t dictating Heath’s life. I never even suspected things had gotten this bad. Yes, I knew he took drugs, but I’d never seen him out of control like this. Today’s incident is proof enough that he needs to quit. Not for me, but for himself.
Drifting off into an uneasy sleep, I toss and turn most of the night but still get some rest. By the time it’s light outside, though, I’m already on my feet and ready to continue helping Heath. I’m wearing a dark gray dress that clings tightly to my body and I’ve got my hair down the way Heath likes. I run a brush through my locks, nervously watching my reflection in the mirror.
Yesterday, Heath told me he loved me. Only hours after that, he had my neck in a death grip. I think he would have killed me if Liberato hadn’t intervened. I’m lucky I got away with just a few finger-shaped bruises on my throat.
I sigh heavily and set the brush down. I’m afraid of facing Heath again, but I also know I owe it to him to get him through this. After all, we’d been promised to one another in sickness and in health. Now it’s time for me to prove that I meant that.
With a nod to myself in the mirror, I pick myself up and unlock my bedroom, walking into the hallway where guards and other men are already gathered. My forehead creases with worry—the noise is impossible to ignore, and it’s coming from Heath’s bedroom.
I already know it’s the withdrawals wreaking havoc on his body, but that doesn’t make the animalistic screaming any better.
Walking down the hallway, I stop by Liberato’s side. His face is full of worry and he groans, running his hand over his shaved head.
“What’s happening in there?” I whisper, afraid of his answer already.
“He’s trashed the room,” Liberato mutters. “No one has been in there for hours. I told the help not to go in. He isn’t to be trusted right now.”
I nod, feeling numb as hell. “Can I go in?”
“Absolutely not,” Liberato shakes his head vehemently. “Do you want a repeat of last night?”
“No, that won’t happen again,” I say, sounding more sure of myself than I actually feel. “He will not hurt me. I want to help him. I promised I would.”
“Do you value your life, Rain?” I nod slowly, making Liberato turn his steel gaze to mine. “Then you won’t go in there. The last person I allowed entry, a guard... Heath broke both his arms. He can’t control himself right now. We need to let him get through this by himself.”
“No.” It’s my turn to shake my head. “I don’t agree. He needs somebody so he can get through this. He won’t hurt me.”
“You’re absolutely sure of that?”
I don’t answer, and the brief moment of my hesitation seals the deal. By the time I speak, I already know it’s too late and Liberato won’t let me enter. But I have to at least try.
“I need to help him. I don’t care if I get hurt.”
“That seems foolish, Rain. You know he could kill you if he wanted to?”
“He won’t,” I shake my head. Finally, something I believe Heath won’t do. While I am worried for my safety, I choose to believe his humanity will win over his depraved needs. It has before, after all. “Please, let me go in there before he breaks down the door. I can help him. Heath needs me.”
My pleading seems to influence the older man, and he grunts an approval at my request. Reluctantly, one guard unlocks the door of the bedroom that’s now gone quiet. I walk into the darkness and chaos of the room, and the lock clicks shut again after me. All those men out there are afraid of Heath. But not me. I can help him.
I crane my neck to find Heath in the room, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Sauntering to the windows, I open the drapes, flooding the room with light. A tired groan coming from the other side of the room catches my attention, and I follow the sound to find Heath crumpled on the floor like a broken marionette.
“Heath,” I whisper, kneeling next to him. I check his forehead. He’s burning up. His eyes find mine. They’re red-rimmed, the veins popping. He looks like hell. “I’m here now, Heath. Don’t worry.”
