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Not trusting myself to talk, I study my sore wrist. I fear I’ll burst this beautiful bubble where I’m not violated.
He offers me a sheet, concern etched into his features. “Stay warm.”
Warily, I accept it and wrap it around me.
He makes himself another drink and starts to ask me questions. Questions I can’t answer and questions I can. When I refuse to say anything, he just sits on the bed, lost in thought.
He looks so alone. We’re like calling to like and I decide I’ve got nothing else to lose. Frozen to the bone, I sit on the bed. I tell him about Lenka, Irina and Charlotte. About Al Vaz and Janssen.
He looks invigorated and pleased with my answers, his bearded face less haggard. It gives life to the tiniest ember in my heart, crackling and flaring brighter with renewed purpose.
The love he has for his special person brings my sister to the forefront of my mind. Thinking about her, about the worry she’ll be going through, Jonas too, has been too hard to contemplate. And then he asks me, “Where are you from?”
“Cambridge.” Instantly, I babble out detail after detail, eager to tell him how to help me and hoping he’ll relay messages to Tilly and Jonas. This gentle giant who’s searching for his wife gives me confidence, so I break the barriers containing my emotions.
Yves’s face turns alarmed. He waves his hands at me, hissing at me to be quiet but I can’t help it. He’s my only hope. He can get word to Tilly! To the police!
His hand covers my mouth. I blink in terror, nodding at whatever he’s saying and his hand disappears.
“Shut up, and get on your back,” Yves hisses. Then he whispers, “Scream a bit.”
Crying unhappy tears takes no effort on my part. He’s just robbed me of all hope. My emotions are all over the place and he was making me believe my stupid, wild dreams weren’t so ridiculous after all. And now I don’t know what he wants from me. Whimpering, I sob out, “No p-please. I’ll be g-good.”
He moves into a position that makes the bed rhythmically squeak and shake. The movements echo through my body, reminding me of all the god-awful times of the preceding days.
We share a pained look, my eyes filling with tears as I turn on my side and sob so hard I think I’m going to puke.
After a time, Yves lies down next to me, his hand a soft touch on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
I eye his hand, wondering if he’s as genuine as he sounds. And it strikes me that his candour is dangerous. I could tell my abuser and the men with guns that he’s here under false pretences. He’s putting enormous trust in me. It’s freeing. It’s oddly reassuring. For the first time in a long time, it feels like I have some semblance of control.
His hand has gone but it was a furnace. “You’re so warm.”
“Roll over. I’ll hold you.”
Taking a moment to think about it, I decide that if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. So I snuggle into his heat, relishing everywhere we meet: chest, thigh, face.
“I won’t hurt you. I only came to find my person, my sister, remember?”
A sister.Not a wife or lover but his flesh and blood. His loss hurts me. I feel his resoluteness to find her. His bravery. But I also feel his continued pain.
Being useful to him becomes more and more critical as time passes, my body warm and languid in his arms.
Tilly must be going out of her mind. “My sister’s probably frantic. Jonas too.”
He kisses my temple. Immediately, I stiffen. But curiously, I’m not sure if it’s due to horror, or whether I recoiled because aside from his body heat, and the offer of a drink amongst other things, that was the most basic human response when trying to comfort someone.
A reassuring kiss. A kiss of understanding and empathy.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur, relaxing. But instead of hiding from his eyes which are an unsettling, beautiful colour, I study him, and him me. It’s not weird—it feels necessary. We both need this moment of unspoken, raw communication.
The eyes are the window to the soul, and that’s all I’m cognisant of as I sink deeply into his inviting, gold-speckled eyes that seem to pierce mine.
This stranger, this gift of a man is breathtakingly handsome. Looking into his eyes brings me happiness and a perverted sense of want. Which is madness. But it’s deeper than that. I feel peace and awareness. I feel an invisible bond tighten, a link between us twining together for an indefinite amount of time.
His goals become my goals. His search becomes my search.
