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“I’m sorry you had to go through all the trouble getting here. We’d like to be left alone now. I’m sure you understand.”
Christian’s voice is full of danger, the hidden threat so lethal that even Ray seems to get it. He glances behind him, out toward the hurling twigs and leaves.
“I’m… Eh… okay.” He pales visibly, stuttering, a forlorn look settling on his face. “See you around, miss.”
“Bye, Ray.” Christian slams the door shut in his face and turns to me. “Great acting,” he sneers, “like always.”
I pull and yank to get loose, and he lets me. “When did I act?” I snarl.
His mouth twists, then he nods at the couch. “Back in your ties, love.”
“No.” My knees go weak from the mere thought. “No, please.”
Christian grabs my nape and steers me. “I don’t trust you for shit. Get the fuck back on the couch.”
Something in me dies a little when he ties me back up and disappears into the bathroom again. That little flash of hope is snuffed out. I don’t think Ray will get it. I’m not getting away from this monster.
Twenty-Five
Kerry
As soon as he disappears into the bathroom, I start struggling to get loose. Maybe I can still catch Ray if I hurry? Tell him to call the police? I’m sweating and tears stream down my face as I tear my skin bloody on his belt. I twist and turn and finally, with a yelp, I fall off the couch, hit my chest on the corner of the coffee table and face-plant into a dusty red rug that’s seen better days.
I lose my breath and gasp from the sharp pain. God, I hope I didn’t crack a rib. Moaning, I bite my lip to not cry out, hoping the commotion won’t wake Cecilia.
The rug gets wet under my cheek as the tears keep trickling. It smells of old socks. The bathroom door opens and steps approach me, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Turning my head, I find myself staring at a pair of naked feet. They’re attached to a pair of legs in dark pants, the rest I can’t see because I can’t get my head up enough to get the angle right. And I can’t say I care enough to want to look at him anyway. He doesn’t speak, and after a while I’m beginning to think I’ve finally gone insane. Thereisa man here, standing inches from my face. I lift my head and strain to look higher. I’m not crazy. Heishere.
Finally, with a groan, he crouches before me and I’m almost, almost relieved to find it was true, that my senses weren’t deceiving me. Deft fingers start untying the knots connecting my hands with my feet. “Kerry,” a voice floating in the air above me says. “We should go to bed.” His voice is tired, raspy… old. He sounds old.
“I’m not going to bed with you,” I respond dully, without even thinking. But it’s true. It’s true and I don’t care what he’ll say about it.
He shoves the table to the side and flips me over on my back. His eyes are like dark bottomless swamps, his fingers quicksand, his touch sucking me into depths that swallow me whole, like a dying sun, a black hole.Don’t pull me in! I couldn’t live in there! How can anyone?
“Yeah,” he says tiredly. “I get that.”
I barely feel my feet and I can’t lift my arms. They’re so heavy. I don’t even care to try. He’ll kill us anyway. What’s the point?
“Get up, Ker,” he says. “Go on.” A little more edge to his voice now, less old, still tired. When I don’t move, I feel his arms sneak under my back and thighs and then the ceiling comes rushing closer as he hugs me to his chest. My head spins. He smells like I remember. I used to sniff his jacket, inhaling his essence. I don’t want to remember. Instead I fixate on his left shoulder. There’s a gaping wound there, on the side, a little toward his backside. I’ve stabbed his tattooed dragon in one of its thighs. It still bleeds a little. I bounce when he drops me on my mattress.
“Get some sleep,” he mutters.
I look at his back as he disappears out of my bedroom. Then the door closes almost completely and I hear a scraping sound, as if a heavy piece of furniture is being moved. I stare at the narrow crack between the door and the frame until my eyes water and I realize I’m not blinking. My arms are still so heavy. They tingle and ache when I move them. Pulling Cecilia’s crib close, I lift her relaxed body, wincing when my ribs protest, and snuggle close, her back to my chest. Her scent is wonderful, powdery, clean. Innocent. The skin on her neck is so, so soft. Her breaths are even and soothing. At leastshe’snot worried. That’s good. My whole body aches. When I finally start feeling it, it’s hard to believe I could stand up at all before. My ankle pounds with pain and each breath I take sends spikes of hurt through an area to the left in my chest. The pain makes me come back to myself a little. I can’t allow myself to drift. I can’t let him take control. I need to focus on what’s important.
Getting us out of here.
Why has he looked for me? For us? Isn’t it enough for him to have shattered the Kerry I used to be into little disjointed pieces that will never find each other again? Does he have to come and keep torturing me? What am I to him?
Why me?
Ihaveto get out of here. We have to leave as soon as we can.
I don’t trust that he won’t suddenly decide to hurt me, or kill me, and then take Cecilia. My chest clenches at the thought and I feel utterly helpless, locked up here in my own bedroom withhimright on the other side of that door. I keep seeing him before me: his brown eyes that can look so honest and sweet, and then turn ice cold within a fraction of a second.
I don’t get him.
Isthere a way to get through to him? To reach past the darkness that must exist inside such a man? To maybe make him leave us alone and realize there’s nothing to win, only losses to us all. I shudder. It’s not very likely, and the only thing that would happen is I would get sucked into that abyss too.
If I’m not already there? Maybe I’ve been there for a very long time?
