by Tara Hart
I don’t think I can deny the possibility. “Maybe,” I answer.
Leila was so close to freedom and now she’s staring down the barrel of a death sentence, or worse. I wish she’d kept running.
“Why didn’t you keep going?” I ask. “You should have kept running.”
She swallows and her eyes instantly fill with tears. “I’ve wanted to get out for so long, but if you’re not there, if you’re not waiting for me…I’m not sure I want to be free.”
I want to smile, but my lips don’t allow it.
“What do I look like?” I ask.
Leila shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Show me.”
She hesitates, but I give her a demanding look with my one good eye. She walks over to her dressing table, picks up a small mirror and brings it to me.
“I need to wipe a cloth over your face,” she says as she grasps the mirror in her hands.
“Show me,” I say again.
She holds the mirror before me. “Fuck.” It’s worse than I imagined.
My face is a mass of purple and red. A trail of dry blood runs from my nose, to my lips and down my chin. My nose isn’t broken, but the sides are tinged purple, as is the skin around my eyes.
“The hulk really let me have it didn’t he?” I let out a laugh, trying to soften the mood.
“It’s not funny,” Leila tells me. “I was worried that you…left me.”
She thought I might die. I’m not entirely sure that I’m not dead. I watch tears trickle down her cheeks and I feel my heart ache deep in my chest.
“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Leila.”
And I’ve never meant anything more in my life.
Chapter 27
Callum
When I wake the first thing I do is look down at my body, just to make sure I’m still here. As weird as it sounds, I didn’t expect to survive the night. I want to pinch myself to make sure I can still feel, but I realize my arms are still bound making the pinch impossible.
I hear keys jingle upstairs and the hulk appears in the doorway. Round two, I presume.
I don’t know how much more I can take, I have no fight left in me and at this point, as morbid as it sounds, I would welcome death.
The hulk walks downstairs, each step causing the stairs to creak under the pressure of his weight. Without saying a word he walks over to me. I bow my head and wait for his fist to meet my face, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, he reaches around me and loosens the ropes from my wrists.
“Stand up,” he instructs, the deepness of his voice evoking memories from the night before. I struggle to stand, my legs wobbling beneath me like a baby giraffe that’s just been born.
The hulk grabs my shirt in his fist and pulls me to my feet. He tightens his grip on my shirt and drags me through to Leila’s bathroom.
“Wash yourself,” he tells me. “You have five minutes.”
He turns around to face the wall, obviously not worried that I’ll jump him and fight for my freedom. He knows I’m weak and doesn’t see me as a threat. I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t.
I step into the alcove of the shower and allow the water to wash over my body. It’s cold at first, too cold, but the water warms soon enough, stinging where my skin is broken. The air hisses through my teeth when I take in a breath.
The metallic taste of blood rolls over my lips before spilling to the ground. I watch the water as it swirls down the drain, tinged maroon and red, a painful reminder of yesterday’s beating.
My body adjusts to the temperature and I want to stay in the shower longer, but before long the hulk steps forward shutting off the water.
“Get out,” he grunts.
He hands me a towel. The white cloth smears with red as I wipe the last of the blood from my skin. One wipe of my hair and the towel is ripped from my grasp and tossed to the floor.
“Are you serious?” I grunt as the hulk grabs me by the elbow and shoves me forward to the sitting room. He points to the clothes sitting on the arm of the sofa. A plain black tee and some grey track pants. I slip them on, my body unforgiving when I move, pain shooting through every muscle, even the ones I didn’t know existed.
“No underwear?” I sneer.
The hulk shrugs his shoulders and points toward the bed where Leila is sleeping.
“Move, now,” he says, his voice deep, the sound you’d expect from a giant.
When I reach the bed he grabs my arm and ties me to the bedpost. He leaves more slack than the night before and I’m surprised when he only ties one arm, leaving my right arm free.
He stands and turns his back on me.
“Thanks. How about some breakfast?”
He ignores me and walks upstairs, closing the door and locking it behind him.
“Callum?” I hear Leila’s small voice next to me.
“Hey,” I say, my voice less croaky today.
“I thought you’d never wake up,” she says.
“What time is it?”
She looks to the clock beside her bed. “It’s just after eight in the morning.”
I didn’t have that much sleep. Seven hours max.
I furrow my brow.
“Callum,” she says softly. “You’ve been asleep for over thirty hours.”
My eyebrows reach up my forehead. “What day is it?”
“Saturday.”
Fuck, I’ve been asleep for almost two days and I still feel exhausted. As if on cue, I let out a tear-inducing yawn. My ribs ache from expelling the air, but I attempt to hide the pain from my face.
Leila smiles at me softly. “You look well.”
“I do?”
“Much better.”
She settles on the ground next to me, her hand resting on my knee, a gesture that causes my body to warm all over.
I hear the keys jingle in the lock again. Leila snatches her hand away from my knee and looks up the doorway in anticipation. I prepare myself. I’m ready to face my father.
But the person standing in the doorway isn’t him. They’re too short to be the hulk and too round to be my father. It takes me a moment to register who it is as she descends the stairs, her gaze fixed on the floor.
The years have been unkind to her. Her hair is now silver and her face is round, actually her whole body is round. I can see the creases on her face, lining skin that was once tanned and flawless.
There’s no mistaking the truth. It’s her. The woman who spent more time with me than my mother and father combined.
“Rosa,” I say faintly, but she doesn’t hear me. “Rosa,” I repeat, this time louder. She hurries through the archway into the bathroom.
“She’s here to clean. We can’t talk to her,” Leila tells me.
“That’s bullshit,” I say and instantly regret the harshness of my words. “She will help us get out of here. She practically raised me.”
I notice the look of pity on Leila’s face. “Callum, she won’t help us. She is one of them,” she says the words with such hatred, it surprises me. I can’t imagine Rosa being anything but kind.
My eyes travel to Rosa. She’s in the bathroom scrubbing the shower, washing the remnants of my blood down the drain. I can’t believe what Leila says is true. Surely Rosa will listen when she realizes it’s me.
She grabs something from the cupboard and then picks up my blood stained towel from the floor. She walks over to Leila and hands her some clean linen. The whole time she avoids looking in my direction.
I sit upright, waiting for her eyes to meet mine, hoping she’ll recall exactly who I am and what I mean to her. When she doesn’t acknowledge me I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Rosa,” I say, my voice soft. “Rosa?” I repeat.
She keeps her eyes fixed on the floor as she takes the dirty clothes from Leila’s basket and cradles them in her arms together with my bloody towel.
“Rosa?” This time I hear the desperation in my own voice. She keeps walking until she
reaches the stairs. When she slowly ascends the steps one by one I shout out, her lack of humanity aggravating me, the realization that everything I’ve ever known is a lie. “Rosa, what the fuck…what the fuck is wrong with you?”
I feel my heart hammering in my chest, threatening to burst at any moment. This can’t be happening, Rosa would never choose him over me.
“Rosa,” I say again, but this time it’s barely a whisper.
And then she’s gone.
Chapter 28
Leila
Sometimes I think he won’t survive it. He will break before long. I can see the cracks beginning to show. Being trapped down here messes with your head, your mind plays tricks on you while you wait for something to happen. You wait for the next time he will assault your body. You don’t hope for it, but you anticipate it. You know it’s only a matter of time and you’re powerless to stop it.
For me this is nothing. Three days in isolation is tolerable, but for Callum, I can see the struggle in his eyes, the fight disappearing with each minute that ticks by. I don’t know if he will survive this. And that scares me most of all.
“Callum?” I question.
I can’t tell if he’s awake or not. His eyes are closed, but I think he’s just resting.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs.
“Callum, are you okay?”
The question seems silly. All I have to do is look at him to know he most definitely is not okay.
He shifts his body. “It’s all gravy.” He tries to laugh, but stops himself when he feels the pain in his chest.
“I don’t understand,” I question. “Gravy?”
“I’m good.” He smiles. “It’s all good.”
I let out a sigh.
“How are you my little fighter?”
Fighter. The endearment doesn’t belong to me. I’ve fought nothing. I’m nothing more than a scared little mouse.
“I’m worried about you,” I admit.
He coughs, his hands pressing against his ribs to dull the pain. He forces his lips into a smile. “No need to worry about me.”
“You need to eat more,” I tell him.
The maid brought our dinner an hour ago. Some egg and potato concoction, but Callum barely touched his portion.
“I’m not hungry,” he says.
His face is still bruised, but he looks better than yesterday. Sleeping on the bed helped. He was able to pivot his body, his left arm still tied to the bedpost, but there was enough slack for him to rest on the bed easily enough.
His body is still tired though. His only exercise comes once in the morning and once in the evening when the guard unties him. He gets twenty minutes in the bathroom, no more, no less. Other than that he’s bound to the bedpost, trapped inside his own mind.
“I can’t believe she’s so callous.”
He’s talking about the maid again. She brought our food and despite Callum’s repeated attempts to talk to her, she ignored him.
It hurts him, more than anything his father has done.
Osborne hasn’t visited again, which is surprising. But every time the door is unlocked my body tenses waiting for him to appear. Part of me wonders if he’s waiting for Callum’s body to heal so that he can put him through the next round of beatings. I shudder from the thought.
“What day is it?” he asks.
I have to think about it. “It’s Sunday.”
“He should be home?”
“Yes.”
I look at the clock. It’s seven. It will be dark out and I can hear a breeze outside and rain. Lots and lots of rain. Although there are no windows in the basement, I know it’s raining. The leak in the bathroom tells me so.
“Your friend,” I start. “He will come back for us, no?”
Callum swallows roughly. “No,” he answers gently, his eyes watering just the slightest. “He won’t be coming for us.”
I nod my head, but I’m not sure I truly understand. Why would his friend not come back for us?
“My father is a powerful man, Leila. He can’t know that Eric helped us. It wouldn’t turn out well for any of us, including Eric.”
Callum is a good friend. He is loyal and caring. He is everything his father is not. I love that about him.
He taps my leg with his foot. I look up at him and he offers me a warm smile.
“Lie with me,” he says, holding his hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me into his waiting embrace. He adjusts his head on the pillow, leaving enough room for me to rest my own. I lie facing him, my hand still in his as he laces our fingers together.
“Something’s not right,” he whispers against my skin.
We lie in silence, listening to the rain leaking through the bathroom roof. I wonder if this is the calm before the storm.
Chapter 29
Callum
He clears his throat and my eyes instantly snap open. He hovers above me, his hands resting on his hips, a stoic expression on his face.
My eyes search for Leila. She’s huddled at the end of the bed, her legs tucked against her chest. She looks like a frightened animal. Her eyes wide with fear, her body noticeably shaking.
“Hello, son,” he says. His voice is even, not an ounce of emotion in his words.
I sit up, pivoting my body to look at him.
“I was wondering when I would see you again,” I say, my words meant as a challenge. The moment has finally arrived.
He steps forward and grabs me by the arm. His fingers dig into the skin of my wrist, yanking me hard, my shoulder almost popping out of its socket.
“Get off the fucking bed,” he commands.
My body falls to the ground, my knees hitting the concrete floor hard, yet the pain barely registers in my brain.
“What are you gonna do to me?” I ask. “You gonna keep me here, tied up like a dog?”
He laughs, a wild and throaty laugh that causes the hairs to rise on the back of my neck. When I think he’s about to speak again he pauses, swinging his foot forward to meet the middle of my stomach.
I smile at him, tasting the now familiar tang of blood. I cough once, spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor. I’m surprised that I don’t feel any pain, my body now numb from the beatings.
“That’s all you’ve got?” I ask, a smile settling on my lips.
I don’t know why I’m acting this way. Living in isolation has messed with my head. I’ve waited so long to look into his eyes and now I feel relieved that he’s finally here.
He reaches forward and grabs me by the scruff of my neck.
“You disappoint me.” The stench of alcohol coats his words, along with the hatred he feels for me.
“That’s funny, I feel the same way about you.” I look him square in the face.
He brings a flat palm to my face and slaps me like the bitch that he is.
“It’s hardly a fair fight,” I tell him. “I mean, I only have one hand.” I gesture toward my left hand that is still tied to the bedpost. I’m daring him to untie me, to let me stand on my own two feet and for once, fight back.
“You would never hurt me, Callum.” His words escape through clenched teeth. “You would never hurt your father.”
I look away from his face. I don’t know if it’s true. I was willing to double cross him and get Leila out of his house, but would I be able to cause physical harm to him as he had me? I’m not sure.
“You’ve always been a little pussy.” His words ring true. That’s why I stayed with Sofia for so long. I was too scared to rip off the band-aid and break it off with her.
“Do you know what the definition of coward is Callum?”
You.
He starts pacing in front of me, one of the few traits I picked up from this man.
“A coward is someone who is easily intimidated. Someone who shies away from danger.” He smirks to himself before continuing. “Do you think you’re a coward, Callum?”
I don’t respond. I keep my eyes fixed to the floor. He bends forward, his hand roughly bring
ing my face to look at his while his fingers dig into my chin.
“Are you a coward?” he shouts, his spittle hitting my face.
“No.”
He laughs, grabbing his stomach as he does so. “You’re not? Well why the fuck would you come to my house in the middle of the night and take her from me?”
I think about it for a long while. Was it a fair point? Was I an absolute coward for planning this whole thing and not taking her from him the night of the party?
“I could have taken her any time, but I know you have this town brainwashed.” I don’t think about the words before they tumble from my mouth. His lips turn down at the sides and his eyes snap to mine.
“Brainwashed?”
“This whole town is full of your ‘yes’ men, but once you leave this town, you’re nothing. You have no one.”
Fuck, where did these words come from and why am I angering the beast?
He lets the comment slide.
“I knew it, Callum. I knew you were onto me. The sudden interest in my life, asking my receptionist when I would be out of town next, but you made one vital mistake,” he says, a smug expression on his face.
I cock my eyebrow as I wait for him to continue.
“You underestimated me.”
I scoff.
He purses his lips as he considers me for a moment. “You think I don’t have this house watched, Callum? You think I don’t have cameras scouring the area.”
I didn’t spot any cameras. I had been so sure that no one was patrolling the area. I don’t know how I could have been so blind. I look to Leila. Maybe I was blinded by my feelings for her. Feelings I fought that won out in the end.
“I knew you were visiting her.” He points to Leila. “But I didn’t know how far you’d take it, how far you’d go to save a girl who is nothing more than a whore.”
I glare at him, the disgusting being who happens to be my father. I try to find any remnants of the man I once knew—once loved.
“You’re an animal,” I bite out. “You need help.”
He chuckles loudly making my skin crawl.
“Too bad you won’t be around to ensure I get help. You’ve left me no choice.”