In the shadows of the tunnel, I wait impatiently for the train to arrive. Normally, I don’t the take the Metro. I have so little patience waiting around for trains and buses that I’d rather just walk to my destination. Unfortunately, Montmorency is too far, even for a healthy person.
I start to pace across the gray brick-lined station floor. The subways here are by far much cleaner than those in the States. I’m hard pressed to find even a dried-up wad of gum on these well-kept floors.
Every few seconds that I pace, I lean over the side to check the tunnel for the twin beams of light to come. All that greets me is the darkness of the Metro tunnel made darker by the years of exhaust fumes. Although the surfaces are clean, that is a smell I can almost taste. Asthma can do that to you, make you taste pollutants. It’s nasty. No one likes the taste of exhaust.
To either side of me, more passengers start to arrive. They, too, begin the pace of impatience as they lose calls and their connections drop in the depths of the tunnel. Those that came before me are now reaching my level of frustration and we exchange mutual glances of shared annoyance.
I look up again at the time displayed on the screen overhead: 10:12. The train should have been here four minutes ago!
My pacing becomes more labored as I begin debating taking the bus instead. The bus lines are notoriously slow, but at this rate, they may be faster. Heck, I might even be able to find a cab now.
Resolved, my feet turn toward the stairs when a series of four beeps sound from overhead, indicating an incoming message to passengers.
“Attention passengers: Due to a mechanical malfunction, the northbound line will be delayed. It is unknown how long the repair will take. Please seek alternate transportation until further notice.”
Groans fill the air around me, but none as deep as the one I make.
Of course!
All at once, there is a mad dash to the stairs as people rush to get to the cabs and buses above ground. I curse under my breath. Why didn’t I leave earlier? Now nothing will be available!
The commuter train won’t run again until 11:00, so I’ll have to try my luck on the bus line along with everyone else. By the time I get up there, any cabs will be long gone.
Angry at myself for not leaving sooner, I try to push past the mob that’s crowding the exit. Bodies slowly merge back up the stairs. A large man wearing a pink Hawaiian shirt, of all things, is in front of me, talking to some dude in a ball cap. He’s taking his sweet time climbing the steps, so I try to duck my way through the narrow opening between them.
I’m almost past them when a thick hand grabs my arm, forcing me down the step I’d just climbed.
“Didn’t your mama teach you any manners, boy,” the man says, sneering at me. Beside him, baseball hat laughs, urging him on. Although the guy towers over me by nearly a foot and easily outweighs me, I’m in no mood for this. I need to find Jada.
“Get your hand off me,” I warn.
“Or what, jackass?” He laughs, shoving me into the person behind me, who gives me a shove of his own.
Ticked off, I climb the stairs, keeping my focus on Mr. Hawaiian shirt. As soon as we’ve cleared the top stair and the crowd thins, I do something stupid and childish. I steamroll Hawaiian shirt as hard as I can, catching him off guard. I hear him grunt as my body makes contact with him. He goes flying forward as I brush past. My shoulder throbs a bit from the contact, but I don’t even stop to look back, and I should have.
Just as I’m about to take another step, his fist makes an upper cut to my side, my left side. Intense pain fills my already strained lung.
The deserved blow sinks me to the ground, while the pair laughs at me. They walk off muttering, “That’ll teach him.”
As I wheeze and struggle to catch my breath, I can’t help but notice that not a single person is stopping to check to see if I’m all right. They’re all too wrapped up in their own problems and conversations to notice some poor kid wheezing on the Metro floor. Karma truly is a bitch.
I manage to work my way over to a bench after the crowd departs. Of course, I’d left the apartment in such a rush that I didn’t think to grab my inhaler. Idiot!
Collapsing against the bench, I sink down onto my back and breathe as slowly as I can.
Hang on, Jada. Please, hang on.
Hawk
These last few pills won’t seem to sell. I’ve been walking around Montreal for the last hour and a half and I’ve been able to get rid of all but these six. I didn’t get as much as I’d hoped. Cheap bastards. I debate trying the other side of town to check out my prospects, but Seth starts in about wasting time.
Save the drugs. You may need them if Jada doesn’t behave.
“Shut up.” I spit, kicking at the ground. I’m not going to need any more than the batch I made. That will last me until we get settled. Once she sees how much better off she is with me and how good I’m going to treat her, she won’t need to be drugged into thinking she loves me, because she just will.
But what if she doesn’t?
“I told you to shut up!”
My voice echoes down the empty street. A dog barks somewhere in the distance, a painful reminder that I’m talking to myself.
“Fine,” I mutter. I’ll save these few but only to sell later. I won’t need them for Jada. She loves me. She’s just too messed up to know it. I’ll just proceed with the plan. Everything will be fine.
With some of the cash I got from the sales, I head to the nearest Metro and make my way back to the frat house. Once I’m close, I’ll pick up what we need for the next stage of the plan at a corner store.
“Soon, baby. This will all be over soon.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jada
I’ve lost all sense of time since I’ve been here. Either that or I’ve lost too much blood. It feels like it’s been days since Hawk left, but it may have only been minutes. I have no way of knowing. The room is so dark that it’s hard to judge the time. It seems like it’s still daylight, but maybe I’m imagining it?
I think the bleeding may have stopped, but I’m too scared to take the pressure off my wrists. Actually, I don’t want to see the blood again. I pride myself on the fact that I haven’t wanted to cut again for these last few years, but after seeing those wounds sliced open again... they only reminded me of the weak and tormented girl I had been before Janelle came into my life, and right now I need all the strength I can get. I can’t allow myself to sink back into that depression. Not now.
Tobias is the only person who has ever seen past my scars and into the woman I dreamed I could be. He saw through my tough girl act and the broken girl I actually was and loved me anyway.
After everything we’ve been through to find each other, this is how it was going to end? What was it all for, all of our suffering, all of our agony, if I’m just going to die anyway?
“Honey, I’m home!” Hawk’s voice sings against the darkness.
I can’t help the relief I feel upon hearing his voice. I cry out to Hawk for help.
The sound of something loud being dropped echoes in the darkness, and then his footsteps come.
“Jada?”
A second later, he kicks open the bedroom door, his breathing labored. He takes one look at me and my hunched-over body and bloodied sheet and grows pale.
“Jada, Jesus Christ! What the hell did you do?”
He rushes over to my bed and gently lifts my head off the sheet, exposing the blood that has soaked through it.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. God, why am I apologizing to him? “My scars must have opened up against the strain of the ties. I couldn’t stop the bleeding... I didn’t know what else to do...”
For a moment he just stares at me. Then his lips form a hard line. A look of determination takes hold of him. Without a word, he disappears out of the room.
“Hawk, please, come back!” I wail. “Hawk!”
The outside door opens again and slams behind him.
I sit on th
e bed, awestruck. Is he just going to leave me here? My body slumps. Maybe I am going to die here. Alone and tied to this bed. Maybe he’s just realized I wasn’t worth all this trouble.
A second later, however, he reappears with what looks like a bunch of wildflowers and his knife. For half a minute I think he’s just going to kill me now and cut his losses, but he sinks down to the bed and looks me in the eyes. I can see the worry etched in them. In that moment, I forget the monster that kidnapped me. Instead, I see the best friend Tobias grew up with. The boy that never got the affection he deserved from his own family. For one second, I feel sorry for Hawk. Angry even that he’s cursed with an illness that is so clearly raging inside his mind.
When he looks away, my fears return. He grabs the knife and brings it up to me. I shrink back, but he holds me still. With skilled hands he slices open the ties. The relief of the plastic no longer cutting into my flesh makes me begin to sob. Hawk looks down at me as though realizing what he’s done to me and pulls me into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my ear. “I never even thought about your scars. That was so stupid of me.”
He drops his hands from me and without warning starts hitting his head with his hands, repeatedly. And hard. He balls his hands into fists and beats himself with them over and over against the side of his skull. I can actually hear his knuckles cracking from the impact against his head.
That’s when the screaming begins. He starts yelling at some unseen demon as he appears to punish himself. It is absolutely terrifying. Although still weak from blood loss, I back away from him, scared about what he’s doing to himself, what he could do to me if I got too close.
“You’re so stupid, Hawk! No wonder she doesn’t love you! Shut up! She does love me! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re gonna screw this whole thing up!”
As Hawk writhes beside me, I realize this would be the perfect time to escape. I have no idea how long an attack of the mind like this would take, so if I want to try, it had better be now.
With my heart in my throat, I throw a leg over the bed. When he doesn’t notice, I start to draw my other leg over. That’s when he lets out such a guttural scream that I freeze.
In the next moment, he grabs hold of my thigh. The pads of his fingers dig deep into my flesh, causing me to release a scream of my own. In a flash, his wild eyes return to their menacing calm.
“See?” Hawk tells me. “I don’t need pills. I got this under control.”
Panting, I look carefully at him.
“Hawk... what’s going on with you?” I can’t help it. My damn sympathetic heart can’t risk trying to help him. “Why did you just hit yourself? Who thinks you’re stupid? Please, Hawk, if you’re sick, let me help you.”
He throws me a deadly glare, but I will myself to speak again.
“Hawk, I know what it’s like—to hate yourself.”
I risk a tentative touch on his shoulder. I’m hoping against hope that I can appeal to his kinder side. A side I know still lingers in there—somewhere. Maybe he just needs someone to help him? Maybe he just needs someone to tell him things will be okay... Maybe he just needs someone to care about him? I, for one, know what feeling alone and unloved can do to a person.
His snort, however, doesn’t bode well for my theory. “I don’t hate myself.” He pushes my hand off his shoulder but keeps the vise grip on my leg.
“That prison doc thinks I have schizophrenia.” He laughs at a spot on the floor that seems to be taunting him. “I’m not crazy!” he shouts at the spot.
Afraid to even breathe, I stay frozen in place.
After a few blinks of his lids, however, he seems almost human again. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He smiles down at me as though nothing happened.
Before I can say anything, he scoops me up in his arms gently and brings me out into the living room. I don’t struggle in his arms this time. I don’t dare. After the transformation I just saw, I’m even more terrified of Hawk than I had been before. If he is schizophrenic and not taking his meds, there’s no telling what his paranoia might make him do.
He plops me down onto the couch and I don’t move. He drags the now-empty end table closer to me and lays his knife on it. For half a second, I contemplate going for it, but before the thought can take root, he’s brought the flowers he gathered a moment ago and puts them down to the table. Using the edge of the blade, he starts pressing against the small yellow buds.
“What are you doing?”
He doesn’t look up from his work but keeps pressing the flowers into a pile of mush.
“It’s yarrow. I grabbed some from the side of the house. It’ll help make sure your wounds clot.”
“Yarrow? How did you know that?”
He stops pressing the leaves and looks up at me.
“The woods are my home, Jada. I know their secrets. I told you. I’ll keep you safe once we’re there.” He goes back to mashing up the flowers until he’s formed a yellowish paste.
Scooping the mess up with the edge of the knife, he brings it over to my cut and gently places a wad of it on one of the gashes. I expect it to hurt, but it just feels cool against my flesh.
“Hold it,” he says as he pulls off his shirt. I dart my eyes to the ground, not wanting to look at his exposed chest.
He grabs the knife and starts to slit his shirt into strips. When he has several slices, he carefully removes my hand from the paste and places a few strips of cloth around the yarrow. With a third strip, he ties it together, then does the same with my other hand. He is surprisingly tender and gentle with me, but I’m not quick to forget how he behaved a moment ago.
As he works, I take a quick glance around the room. I notice the windows are still covered, betraying the real time of day. A large brown grocery bag is sprawled out on the floor where he dropped it. Some of the contents have spilled and lie in a heap on the ground. I can make out a loaf of bread and a box of hair dye.
When he finishes with the bandages, my wrists feel surprisingly better. That’s when he pulls the ties out of his pocket. It’s my turn to go crazy. He can’t honestly want to put me back in those!
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m not going to do your hands, I promise.” He reaches out and snags my leg and whips a tie around it before I can stop him. I yank my other leg underneath my body, trying to keep it free.
“Jada, stop fighting me on this so I can get you cleaned up!”
I don’t stop, though. I can’t be bound up again like an animal. I can’t. I use all my weight to push against him, but I’m weak from blood loss and he’s got leverage on his side and easily pins my arms to the couch. He’s careful not to grab my wrists, but I still buck underneath him.
“Damn it, Jada! I said stop.” He reaches for something over the couch, releasing my hands, which I use to beat against his chest. I only manage to get in a few blows before he comes at my face with the something. It looks like a perfume bottle.
That’s the stuff he used on me before!
I scream under him as he sprays his chest with the mist. He tosses the bottle aside and stifles my scream with his hand.
Muffled cries escape his fingers.
“When I release my hand, you’re going to breathe this in and be a good girl. Got it?”
He removes his hand and I pinch my lips together, pathetically trying to hold my breath. Strong hands hold me in place as he waits for me to succumb to the need for air.
After a few moments, my lips part and I inhale great gulps of poisoned air. Maybe this time I can resist the drug now that I know what it’s doing to me. Maybe I can—nope.
I feel my mind slip. The muscles in my body loosen. A big goofy grin spreads across my lips.
“Hi,” I purr.
“Now that’s more like it,” Hawk says, letting my arms go.
“Do we get to play now?” My hands reach out to touch him, but he stops me. I pout.
“We need to get you cleaned up first. I can’t risk you gettin
g an infection. No hospitals.” He takes my arm and kisses it so gently that I want to cry. He’s so kind to me.
Hawk picks me up and carries me into the kitchen, my head pressed snugly against his firm bicep.
He sets me down on the counter where he tries to let go of me, but I hold on to him, wanting to smother him with kisses. I manage to get a few in before he slips a few inches out of my grasp. From a bag that rests on the counter beside me, he snags a roll of paper towels still wrapped in plastic and a bowl from a cabinet. He then grabs a bagged water from the twelve-pack on the counter.
After he’s cleaned the dust that’s caked on the bowl from years of disuse, he takes my arm and positions it over the metal rim. Slowly, he dumps about half of the bottle over my arm. I flinch as I watch dried-up blood vanish and tinge the bowl pink. Looking at the water laced with my blood brings back the oddest sense of déjà vu, but I can’t recall why.
I don’t shrink away when he starts to rub away the blood that’s clotted near the bandages. The pain is tolerable as long as he’s beside me. I breathe in his heady scent, wondering if my life could be any better than in this moment with Hawk.
Tobias
It’s almost ten thirty now and I haven’t even made it out of the Metro station!
My stupid lungs are having the hardest time staying full. Every time I think I’m okay, I try to get up, only to have the familiar burn for air return.
Jada is counting on me and here I am, flat on my ass all because I was a prick!
Furious with myself, I decide to try and make small jaunts to the bus line. If I can make a few feet at a time and then rest, at least I’m making progress. Sitting here doing nothing is not an option.
While I inch my way along the wall, I try to formulate my plan of attack once I finally get there. At this point, all I have is getting to the campus and hoping to magically find the frat sign Janelle drew. Beyond that, I have no idea what to do. I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that it’s going to involve the loaded pistol resting snuggly against the crook of my back.
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