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On se reverra un jour, mon petit moineau.
Je t’aime.
Mamie
My tears wet the page as they fall, and I hold her final words to my chest, wishing I could tattoo them across my heart. I tip back the bottle of wine, guzzling my best bottle of cabernet, but startle at a pounding at the door, dripping wine onto the page.
“Ivy!” The voice on the other side, steeped in menace, carves a hollow dread in my gut.
Oh, no. Not Calvin. Not now.
I reach for the phone I’ve ignored for the last two hours and see he’s texted me a dozen more times, each one increasingly angry in tone. Stomach churning with sickness, I pad quietly toward the door and peer through the peephole, where my fears are confirmed by his furious eyes staring back at me.
“Ivy! Open up!” Three more wallops at the door set my muscles jerking, and I slap a hand over my mouth, my whole body trembling with fear and adrenaline.
“You leab! You leab right now, or I’ll call da police!” Mrs. Garcia’s voice sends a shot of alarm down my spine, and when Calvin spins around, shoving her backward into the door behind her, I snap into action.
Unlocking the door, I throw it open and give a harsh push to his arm, and I fall to my knees beside Mrs. Garcia, who lies on the floor, rubbing the top of her head. “Oh, my God, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Arms band around my stomach, lifting me off the floor, and I scream and fight, elbowing him in the chest as I kick at him.
“You leab her alone!” Mrs. Garcia calls after us.
The door shuts out her threats to call the police, and Calvin drags me across the room, throwing me down onto the bed. He prowls toward me like a vicious predator, backing me against the wall, caging me.
“Where’ve you been,love?” he asks through clenched teeth. “I’ve called and texted and called and fucking texted all night!”
“My grandmother died, you heartless bastard!” I want to say that I regret calling him that, knowing it’ll piss him off, but the events of the night have reset all my instincts. I feel like I’m short circuiting and ready to break down.
A cold, hard sting smarts my cheek, kicking my head to the side. “Heartless? This coming from the bitch who can’t show a little gratitude toward the man who saved her ass?”
“You never saved me. You imprisoned me, and I’ve regretted helping you ever since!”
Another crack against my cheekbone rattles my teeth, and I flinch as the pain shoots up into my sinuses. “Where were you tonight?”
“At the nursing home.” I force calm in my voice, certain that another hit will knock me out. “I told you, my Mamie died.”
“Your Mamie?” He lifts his head, nostrils flaring, and his lips flatten with the hardening of his jaw. “Then, why’s it smells like fucking sex in here?”
“You’re crazy. Call the nursing home, Calvin. They’ll tell you.”
Fucking psychopath!
He pushes off the bed, and lifts the bedspread before letting it fall, then disappears into the bathroom. The sound of clanging is undoubtedly my personal shit he’s throwing around in his tantrum.
Heart pounding in my chest, I watch him move from the bathroom to the closet, and he emerges carrying my black latex suit, holding a section of it marred by a dull streak, where Damon’s cum has dried.
“Yeah? What’s this?”
Eyeballs bouncing from the suit, to the disbelief in his eyes that promises more pain, I clear my throat, hoping to convince him. “It’s nothing.”
“I bought this fucker brand new. So, why’s there a cum stain?” The rancor in his tone tells me whatever I say next doesn’t really matter. His eyeballs practically glow red with the fury I imagine roiling through his blood right now.
While my mind spins for an answer, he lifts it to his nose, sniffing the material, and my stomach twists in knots. “I … Calvin …”
Another backhanded slap with the fabric smarts my cheek, bringing tears to my eyes. “You’re a lying cunt. And you know what happens to lying cunts?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Not that I would. “They get fucked.”
