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I should have shot her through the heart when I had the chance.
But no. I couldn’t ever kill her. Even now.
I very carefully set her down and back away from her. She’s holding the gun in a two-handed grip. Not a very good one, but she doesn’t have to be good at this distance.
“Tamara.” I keep my voice steady. “You’re right, you’re not Toy, you never were. I apologize, Tamara. I am sorry for what I did to you. And you’re not going to shoot me. That’s not you. You’re pure good, Tamara. You live to help people, to make things better. We need to get out of here, baby, before my brother shows up. He won’t kill you, Tamara. He’ll torture you to get back at me. He’ll peel your skin off. He’ll burn you alive. You wouldn’t be the first woman he’s tortured to death.” No, after what he did to those social workers, she’d be at least the fifth.
I start walking toward her, slowly.
The gun wavers in her hand, and her eyes go wide and desperate. She steps back, wincing in pain from putting weight on her ankle.
“Please don’t make me kill you!” Her face twists in panic. “I can’t be your slave again, Joshua. I can’t! Just leave!”
“You won’t be my slave.” I’m almost on her. I reach for the gun.
She shoots me in the foot, then screams in surprise at what she’s done.
Instantly, I compartmentalize the pain. And I glory in the fact that she couldn’t find the strength to kill me.
I lunge forward and snatch the gun from her hand. I wrap my arms around her as she howls and cries.
“Tamara. It will be different. I want you to come with me right now, I want you to stay with me of your own free will.”
“Never!” she howls. And the pain of it squeezes my heart.
Thisis what heartbreak feels like. No wonder people whine and cry about it so much. It’s vile. It makes me angry and sick to my stomach. It makes me want to kill people.
My shoe is filling up with blood. Even with my ability to compartmentalize, it’s getting hard to ignore the throbbing agony in my right foot. I feel a little lightheaded.
Yes, those are sirens I hear.
“I understand.” I stare at her so she’ll see the truth in my eyes, but she’s twisting away from me. “Whatever happens, I’m sorry for what I did to you. And I thank you for what you did for me. You made me almost human, Tamara. If I could feel love for anyone, it would be you. You are love in human form, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been privileged to know. You broke down my walls and set me free.” I kiss her neck gently.
Every word is gulping up time that I don’t have, but it doesn’t matter, because I had to tell her that. She needs to know how I feel. She deserves that, and much more.
But I’m also not ready to surrender yet. It’s not in my nature. We’re going to drive away. I’m going to blow up the house when we’re at a safe distance, and then I’m going to move us to one of my other hideouts. And I will find and kill my brother.
I am sure of all these things. I am not a man who panics. I am not afraid at all.
I open the trunk and drop her in with a thud as she screams. This isn’t my sound-proofed trunk; that car is in my garage, and we don’t have time to go in there. Also, I don’t know what Charlemagne might have done to the garage. He could have messed with the locks, and he could trap me in there.
This is a fun game for him. He’s somewhere close and he’s watching. I’m sure of it.Will he be forced to kill Tamara? Can he do it? Will he go into the garage so I can lock him in? Will the police catch him before he can escape?
Everything about this situation is fucked up beyond belief, but I will adapt and survive. If I survived my father, I can survive anything.
“Listen,” I tell her. “Just keep quiet, and when we’re safe, if you still want to leave me, I’ll let you go as soon as it’s safe for me to do so.”
In response, she tries to lash out at me with her foot.
And I slam the trunk shut.
I hear her kicking the trunk and screaming.
I need to leave, I need to get the hell out of here as fast as I can, but instead I yank the trunk open and look down at her, at a face that’s still beautiful to me even though it’s contorted with utter hatred.
“Tamara,” I say to her. “I meant what I said. I know you don’t believe me, but if you just do what I say, I’ll set you free soon. I’m taking up valuable time when I should be driving the hell away from here, and the cops are coming, and I don’t have to tell you this, because I’ve already got you trapped in my car trunk. I’m saying it because it’s true. You’ve made me feel things I never thought I could feel. I’m not the man that I was when I first took you. Please just trust me. I’ll get us out of here, I’ll keep you safe, and once my brother’s locked up again, I will open my front door for you and you can go anywhere you want.”
“Lying bastard. Why don’t you bleed out already?” she spits at me. I slam the trunk again.
