by L. G. Davis
“Jared,” I call, praying he’s not in a bad mood again. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
I call for him several more times. He doesn’t respond.
It feels like an hour until he finally comes to the room. He finds me on the verge of peeing myself.
“What do you want?” he asks, irritated. “I was watching a movie.”
“I’m sorry.” I press my legs tightly together. “I need to go to the bathroom…please?”
“Fine,” he says, but he doesn’t approach the bed.
“Please, Jared. I need to go. I won’t do anything stupid.”
“You better not.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver key.
“Thank you,” I murmur when I’m free of the handcuffs.
“You’re welcome.” He helps me to my feet and escorts me to the bathroom, waiting outside the door until I’m done.
“You’re doing well,” he says when he tucks me back in bed and handcuffs me again. “As long as you behave, you never have to fear me. When you misbehave, the only person you hurt is yourself. I’ll be right back.”
He disappears from the room for five minutes. When he walks back through the door, he’s holding a cup in one hand and a book in the other.
“This is for you.” He places the cup in my hands. It’s filled with warm milk. I lift it to my lips and take a sip, then another. It tastes so good that I don’t stop until it’s gone.
Taking it from me, Jared puts it on the floor because there’s no nightstand in the room anymore.
He sits down next to me on the bed, still holding the book he brought with him. It’s my cookbook. He bought it for me a few days after we got married.
“I figured that since we both can’t sleep, how about we pick something out for the dinner? I’m so excited I cannot wait.”
He places the book on my lap, but it’s him who flips through it. I’ve cooked most of the recipes, but he’s able to find several he hasn’t tasted yet.
“How about this for dessert?” He points at a chocolate and peanut butter pudding pie.
I nod. Whatever he chooses is fine with me. The food is not my focus.
He looks satisfied as he continues to flip through the pages. “For the main course, let’s do seared scallops with brown butter and lemon juice sauce. This looks delicious.” He runs a finger down the recipe page. “I’m sure everyone will love it.”
It’s amazing how he manages to look normal, not like someone who killed his pregnant wife. He’s so sick, I can’t figure out whether he belongs in prison or a mental institution.
“Looks good,” I murmur, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not that excited?”
“I am.” I sit up straight. “I’m just...I’m tired, that’s all.”
“Yeah, it’s after midnight. Sorry about that. The dinner party will be our last. We have to make it one we will always remember. Everything should be perfect, including the decorations.”
I stiffen inside. I want to ask him why he claims it’s the last dinner party. Is it because he plans to get rid of me after that?
It’s a good thing he let the little bit of information slip. Now I’m even more motivated to make sure I get away as soon as the opportunity presents itself.
He takes the book from me and snaps it shut, holding it to his chest. “I know I said we should do it in a week, but why not sooner? Next weekend? That gives us three days to plan.”
I only have three days to plan my escape? I don’t know whether it’s enough. I don’t know whether any amount of time would be enough. I don’t even know exactly how I’m going to get away. I might not even come up with a plan until the weekend.
As much as having only three days to come up with a plan makes me nervous, a flicker of excitement also courses through me. In three days, if I’m lucky, it will all be over.
“It’s perfect,” I say. I do my best to keep myself from giving anything away.
Satisfied, Jared switches the light off and closes the door. He slides into bed next to me.
I keep my eyes closed the entire night, but I don’t sleep a wink.
Chapter 32
The day of the dinner party, Jared keeps me locked up the entire morning and afternoon.
Instead of being terrified about how the day will end, there’s a fire burning inside me. I still don’t have a concrete plan of escape, but I won’t be spending another night in Jared’s house. I will not be locked away and handcuffed like a prisoner. I’m tired of fighting for my life, for my sanity, for my freedom.
I hear Jared’s whistling before he enters the room and unlocks the handcuffs. Torturing me must be good for his mood. He has on a white polo shirt and beige shorts, and his hair is glistening in the light that floods the room through the window. He looks like an angel, but we both know what he truly is.
“Are you ready to have fun tonight?” He kisses me on the forehead. The touch of his lips leaves goosebumps on my skin brought on by disgust instead of desire.
“I am.” I don’t say another word as he leads me to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. He didn’t allow me to do it in the morning.
Inside the kitchen, all the ingredients are laid out on the counter.
“Everything you need is there.” He waves a hand over the food, proud of himself. “If you need anything else, say the word.” He drops into a chair at the kitchen table and plants his elbows on the surface, his chin rested on his fists. He watches me standing in the middle of the kitchen, trying to decide what part of the meal to start with.
“You better start cooking. It’s already six. The guests will be here in two hours.”
Even though I was brave for most of the day, I’m suddenly nervous. What if I fail? What if I end up in prison instead of him?
“Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” I ask.
“Why?” He frowns. “You just went to the bathroom upstairs.”
“I’m sorry. I need to...I need to pee again.” My need to urinate has little to do with the pregnancy and more to do with the terror that’s loosening my bladder.
“All right. But hurry.” Instead of allowing me to go alone, he leads me through the door, his hand pressed to my lower back.
He takes me to the guest bathroom and waits for me outside. He leaves the door open.
I lower myself onto the toilet and close my eyes, focusing on the baby inside of me. I felt it move again this morning. I have to fight for him or her.
If it weren’t for my baby, I would have given up long ago. Jared would have broken me completely. It’s the baby that helped me make it through each day without going crazy.
Feeling stronger, I rise from the toilet and flush even though I didn’t actually use it. When I turn to wash my hands, I notice for the first time that the mirror that used to hang above the sink is gone. He removed it, like he removed the one upstairs.
I shrug. I don’t need to see myself in the mirror to notice the hollows in my cheeks or the bags underneath my eyes.
I run cold water over my hands and press my cool fingertips against my eyes.
“You look tired,” he says from behind me. “But it’s nothing makeup can’t hide. Like always, the guests will admire your beauty as much as your food.”
I don’t say anything. His compliments mean nothing to me.
“I’m ready to start cooking,” I say. He nods and escorts me back to the kitchen.
He watches my every move, his gaze following me around the kitchen, even when he pretends to be reading the paper. He only helps me when there’s something that needs cutting. I’m not allowed to touch the only knife left in the kitchen. He’s the one who slices the lemons in half for the scallop sauce and the onions for the French onion soup.
If someone were looking in from outside, they would think we are a normal couple preparing dinner together. They would think Jared is the perfect husband and I’m the perfect wife. They would have no idea t
hat we are living the perfect lie.
“You’re lucky, you know,” he says, glancing up from the paper.
“What do you mean?” I turn away from the stainless-steel skillet, which I have already coated with oil, ready to cook the scallops. The whole time I keep thinking it would be the perfect weapon to attack him with. But I remind myself that physically attacking him might lead to me getting hurt, especially since he has a knife right next to him.
“What I’m saying is that you’re lucky that the cops have not come sniffing around again. I told them we were both home the night Victor was murdered. They wanted to speak to you, but I told them my pregnant wife was too sick to speak to anyone.” He looks back down at the newspaper. “I’m actually surprised they haven’t returned. They must have someone else on their radar, possibly someone from outside.”
“Yeah.” I turn back to the skillet and switch on the stove, heating it up until wisps of smoke curl up toward my face. I can feel him watching me, but I don’t turn around. I place the scallops in the hot skillet one by one.
I guess he was trying to remind me that I’m still at his mercy so I don’t betray him tonight.
“Will you not thank me?” he asks. “I expected you to be grateful that I’ve been working so hard to cover up your tracks.”
“Thank you,” I say. Instead of looking at him, I approach the fridge, not even sure what I’m getting. I pull the handle and realize with a sinking feeling that it’s locked.
“Ooops,” he says. “I’m sorry about that.” He walks up next to me and unlocks the fridge.
I take out random things. I’m no longer focusing on the recipe. I don’t care how the meal turns out. I’m just waiting for the time when I can get away.
I return to the stove and watch the scallops cook until they’re golden brown, then I turn them over.
I continue to cook all the dishes with Jared looking over my shoulder. His gaze makes my skin itch. The desire to claw his eyes out steals my breath.
I manage to cook food that he’s pleased with. The past few days, I was allowed to eat more than bread and water, and tonight I’m allowed to taste the food. Even though I’m distracted, it tastes pretty good.
“The guests will be here in half an hour. You should go and clean yourself up,” he says, getting rid of the knife and anything else he thinks I could use to attack him with. “Make yourself pretty.”
He follows me to the bathroom. Since he doesn’t leave the room, I decide not to take a shower. It makes me uncomfortable to have him watching me shower when we are no longer husband and wife, except on paper. I’m also nervous about him staring at my stomach. He might figure out that the baby is still alive.
I approach the sink and splash my face with water. My skin instantly feels rejuvenated again. I also wipe away the sweat under my armpits.
“Why don’t you shower or take a bath?” he asks, perching on the edge of the bathtub.
“There’s not much time left. I want to take my time with the makeup.” I chew a corner of my lip. “I have a pocket mirror inside my handbag. Do you mind if I use it?”
“Of course not. I want you to look your best.” He leaves the bathroom to get me the handbag. When I start to enjoy the few seconds without him around, he returns.
He rummages inside my bag until he finds the mirror and hands it to me. I thank him and apply my makeup while sitting on the closed toilet lid, the mirror perched on my lap.
I take my time sliding the mascara wand over my already long lashes, smearing concealer over anything I want to hide, and dabbing tinted lip gloss over my lips.
“You did a great job,” he says, peering at my face. “Now you need to get dressed.”
We go to the bedroom together.
A silver and black dress is draped over the bed.
“It’s for you,” he says. “You’ve been so good the past couple of days. You need to be rewarded. You’ll look beautiful in it.”
“Thank you, Jared.” I pick up the dress and pull it over my head, facing away from him.
“You look stunning,” he says when I turn around again. “You’re the perfect host.”
I force my lips to smile. The dress is beautiful, but I’m nervous when he hands me a pair of silver high heels. There’s no way I’ll be able to run in them. I guess I’ll have to do it barefoot.
“That dress belonged to my ex-wife, Alison.”
I sink onto the bed, glaring at him. “I don’t want to wear it.” He’s sick to think I would want to wear a dress that belonged to the woman he murdered.
When I attempt to lift it over my head again, he grabs my wrist.
“It’s just a dress,” he says through clenched teeth. “And it looks good on you. You’re wearing it tonight.”
“Okay,” I say after a long pause. I have to be careful. I need to do what he says or he might cancel the dinner.
Shortly before eight, Jared follows me to the kitchen, even though he hasn’t changed his clothes.
Trying not to think about the dress I’m wearing, I turn on the stove to heat up the soup.
At five minutes to eight, the guests still haven’t arrived. It’s weird because they’re never late. Especially Linda, who sometimes comes way too early.
“I guess they’re running late,” Jared says. “We should get started without them.”
“Start eating?” My brow draws together. “Without them?”
“Yes. I hate it when people are late. It shows disrespect.”
I find it strange, but I follow his lead. I have no other choice. I’m sure the guests will be horrified when they arrive to find their hosts have already started dinner without them. But it’s Jared’s house. It’s Jared’s rules. I hope they will arrive soon.
I scoop the hot soup into a large bowl and carry it to the dining room. When I reach the doorway, I come to a halt.
Jared had been responsible for decorating the dining room. The table is laid and everything looks great except for one thing that makes my stomach turn.
The chairs around the table are not empty. But instead of people, life-sized female dolls are seated in them, slumping forward because they are unable to remain straight.
Only two chairs are empty – mine and Jared’s.
“Looks like the guests have arrived after all,” Jared says, pointing to a blonde doll with bright blue eyes.
I can feel my face losing color. I can’t even find words to say to him.
“You should see your face right now.” He starts laughing. When he’s done, his expression grows serious. “I know you were looking forward to this day, but I can’t let anyone see you in this state. I lied upstairs. The makeup didn’t do a good job. You look tired and unhappy. Our friends might ask questions, especially after what you did at the festival.” He waves at the table. “But since these guests cannot speak, they’re perfect for us. Come on, this will be a dinner party to remember.”
“You’re sick.” I move forward until I sink into one of the empty chairs, devastated that my plans of escape have come crashing down.
He sits down in his chair. “You should stop talking that way. It upsets me. I’ve been so good to you the past few days. Tonight, I’m allowing you to eat great food. You should be grateful.”
I don’t know how it happens. I don’t know where I find the courage, but one second I’m paralyzed by rage, and the next I’m on my feet, hurling the hot bowl of soup in his direction. He roars when the bowl catches the side of his face and hot soup pours over him, staining his polo shirt brown.
He rises from the table like an angry lion. I’m too far from the door to run for it, so I kick off my shoes and grab one of them. When he lunges for me, the heel connects with his forehead.
Roaring with rage, he grabs it from me and tosses it away. While he tries to recover from the pain, I take my chances and run from the dining room.
Instead of the front door, which I’m sure is still locked, I run to the guest bathroom. I slam the door shut and lean against it, di
zzy with fear.
“We’re done,” he shouts from the other side. Every word is like poison. “Game over.”
The bathroom window is too small for me to climb out of, but I still open it and scream for help.
Chapter 33
Game over.
The two words penetrate my mind and my entire body, sucking the air out of my lungs, dashing any hopes of escape I might have had. Panic riots through me.
Running into the bathroom might not have been a good idea. Maybe I should have tried the front door. What if it was not locked?
Each time Jared’s fists bang against the wooden door, I jump. What if he kicks it down?
This can’t be it. This cannot be how my life ends.
There has to be a way I can escape from the house without him hurting me or the baby. The murderous look on his face when I attacked him sends shivers down my spine.
“You’ve gone too far.” His voice cuts through the wood and slices through my heart. “It’s easier to get rid of you once and for all. Since you will be my wife at the time of death, I’ll still be able to get my money.” He hammers against the door again. “Maybe I’ll use it to move away from this boring little town and start a new life someplace else, with a good woman.”
My fingers curl around my throat. My breath feels as though it’s been cut off. Tears trickle down my cheeks when I think I could be Jared’s next victim. He’s done it before, murdered his wife and unborn child. He got away with it. What will stop him from doing it again?
I crouch in a corner of the bathroom, scanning the small room for something I can use to defend myself. The idea of Jared going out into the world again and living without remorse fills my stomach with acid.
He needs to be stopped. Maybe the only way I can stop him is by putting my own freedom at risk. If I make it out alive, I might have to turn myself in and confess to Victor’s murder. I have to overcome my fear of prison. It’s safer than inside Jared’s house. The baby and I will find a way to survive behind bars.