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“My sister’s probably frantic. Jonas too.”
Jonas.A boyfriend probably; I shouldn’t be surprised. I nod and kiss her forehead, trying to offer some kind of comfort and forgetting the god-awful dynamic between us. One that could so easily be violator and violated. “Sorry,” I immediately say, noting how she stiffened and shrivelled away.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs.
It’s probably the first kindness she’s had in days. Weeks. Months.
Her eyes keep finding mine. And then finally, she stops flicking her eyes away and just studies me, and me her. Slowly, as the first minute turns to two, three, I become aware of a connection building between us, a mixture of faith and trust and longing and heartbreak. Of wishing for things we can’t have. But I also feel emboldened. Stronger. And I hope it’s the same for Ava, her grey eyes glued to mine as if searching for those same things.
And maybe I’m imagining it but she looks at me with unintentional seduction, yearning and wonderment. Is it wrong to feel undeniably attached to her?
“You have a kind face. Honest and reassuring,” she tells me. We must’ve been staring into each other’s eyes for a full five minutes now. “That’s what I see. You have a lot of compassion.”
I offer a small smile, listing out a different set of adjectives in my head: prideful, possessive, greedy, self-centred.
“Will you tell the police where I am?”
I have my suspicions about the local police or at least an individual there. “I will,” I assure her because it’s the truth. “But by the time they come, you’ll be gone. Moved on. That’s the way it works.”
I check my phone. Thirty minutes left. I text Jeremy the names Janssen and Al Vaz, just in case I don’t make it out. Then I delete the thread.
“Can I use your phone?”
“No.”
Her face shutters.
“I’m sorry, but no. We need to be sensible.”
She swipes at her runny nose, her eyes averted from me now. A strand of her chestnut hair has caught on my sleeve. Seeing it there, loosely wrapped around my cuff as if she belongs to me has feelings of avarice and proprietorship running through my veins. Stroking her head, I catch up a few loose strands and shove them in my pocket. I’ll keep her there until I can have her for real.
Surrounded in silence, with our bodies tangled as I transfer whatever body heat I can to my new obsession in my arms, I remember that her bloodstream is awash with all sorts of chemicals. Will she remember this? Will she keep her mouth shut?
Christ, I hope so.
For the last time, I go through the motions of fake sex again, rattling the bed, groaning, and spitting in another condom before I wrap the ‘used’ ones in a tissue and shove them in my pocket.
Ava watches, intrigued. If she wasn’t fully awake earlier, she is now, her expression one of fascination and interest to replace the suspicion and fear. But there’s also admiration in her expression, and I like seeing it.
“Is there anything else you can remember?” I murmur, wrapping her up against me again. “Letters in this name that’s hard to say? Have you been there? Do you remember it?”
She appears to think. “J and D and K are in it. I was there for a day, maybe two.”
Pleased with her information, I kiss her again on the forehead, unable to help myself. I’m so pleased to have found her. I check my watch, wishing time to stop and hurry at the same time.
“Soon, I’ll have to bang on the door and leave.”
Ava starts to cry again. Her body shakes violently against mine as she weakly grips my shirt.
“I’m sorry to leave you,” I say my voice cracking. “But I’ll come back for you, Ava. I promise. And I’m good on my promises, aren’t I?”
I’ve not touched her, not in that way at least, and that’s what counts.
“Pleasedon’t leave me.”
“I’ll be back for you,” I whisper urgently. “I’ll come to the sale and buy you. I promise.”
And then I’ll keep her for myself.
