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I waver, releasing a scream as I feel the ice tear through my stomach.
White-hot ice.
Unexplainable.
Unbelievable.
It’s pain like I’ve never felt before.
When I look down, I see the blood. I’m suddenly lightheaded.
My knees give out.
I am too weak for this. I should never have tried to run.
He stares at me completely stone-faced, in no hurry to get us back inside. There’s no one around to see what he’s done anyway.
No one around to help. To save me.
I drop to my knees, resting against my heels as my head grows fuzzy. Glancing down, I stare in horror as blood pools from my wound. My hands go to the kitchen knife sticking out of my stomach. “Why?” I cry, but I know the answer. I made a choice, and I lost.
He rears a fist back, lips tight. I know the punch is coming seconds before it connects with my temple. Then it all goes black.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
“You shouldn’t have done it. Why did you do it? You never listen. I warned you. I warned you what would happen.” The voice is garbled. Distant. I can hardly hear what he’s saying. I can’t focus on anything but the pain. Pain in my stomach, in my face. Opening my eyes sends a shot of lightning through my muscles. “You shouldn’t have done it, Mari. Why did you do it?”
It takes me a few minutes to understand where I am and who the man in front of me is. Why he looks so angry. Why he’s pacing at the end of the bed.
Then, all at once, it comes back to me. The reason for my pain.
“You stabbed me!” I cry, my voice rough in my throat. I scoot back on the bed, away from where he stands. “You… Youpunchedme.” I lift a hand to my eye, then lift my shirt to examine the wound. Even the tears forming are painful. Apparently, while I was unconscious, Chris bandaged my wound, though the skin around the gauze and medical tape is already varying shades of reds, purples, and blues. Shouldn’t I be in the hospital? Will I die if I don’t go? Is that what I want to happen? Is it whathewants to happen?
“Yeah, I did, Mari. I had to. You left me no choice. You didn’t learn. You never learn. You said I could trust you, and then you betrayed me as soon as you had the chance.” The way he’s looking at me, it’s as ifIstabbedhim. He drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, pleading with me. “Don’t you understand how much this kills me? I never wanted to hurt you, Mari. I wanted to help you. To help you heal from your loss. To bring you back to the thing you love. Writing. Creating stories for us. For me. But what choice did I have? You were going to run.” He lifts a hand to his head, where I notice a gash along his hairline. “And don’t forget, you hurt me first.”
He lifts a hand to my chin, trying to tip my face up toward his, and I jerk away.
“You’re special, Mari. You’re very, very special. And I…” His voice catches, and he stands, clutching his hands in front of his stomach. “I love you. I don’t know why you can’t see that. You’re everything to me. And until you’ll stay willingly, you’ll remain down here. Until I can trust you, I have to keep punishing you.”
My eyes flick up to meet his. “What do you mean?”
He reaches for the nightstand, picking up the book he left for me this morning. At least, I’m assuming it’s still the last day I remember. I have no way of knowing, really. The pain feels fresh, though. At least within the last few hours. No more than a day.
“Please, Chris…”
The corner of his mouth upturns. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Just remember that. Any pain I cause you, anything I have to do now, is your fault.”
I pull my knees into my chest, ignoring the agony coursing through me at this moment. It’s about to get so much worse.
He opens the book, flipping to a page he clearly has memorized, and begins to read, “I’ve never been one for smoking. Never had a taste for it. But now, here, the moment calls for it. I light the cigarette and hold it out. She shakes her head, denies me. It’s funny she still thinks she has any control here. She’ll learn eventually, though. She’ll have no choice. For now, I have to break her. I have to break her in the only way I know how. In the way my parents broke me. It has to hurt. I pull her to me, straddling her on the bed, and grab hold of the collar of her shirt. She struggles against me, terrified whimpers escaping her throat, but she already knows if she screams, it will be worse. She’s learning. I resist the urge to stroke her hair, call her a good girl. Now isn’t the time for such sentiments, even if I mean them. Pulling the collar of her shirt down, I move the cigarette toward her nearly perfect skin. There are freckles there I hadn’t noticed before. A smattering of them across her collarbone. A perfect map for me to follow.”
He drops the book, and I understand what’s happening. I see the parallels in the story. If I fight, it will be so much worse.
“Do you have freckles, Mari?” One side of his mouth upturns, the rest of his face completely still.
“You don’t have to do this, Chris. I won’t ever, ever hurt you again. I’m so sorry.”
He’s not listening. There’s nothing I can say that will stop this. I’m wasting my breath.
