by Pavan Kaur
We walk for about thirty minutes before she stops in front of a few houses and she points to a house on the left.
Jackson leans in and whispers, “So, how are you going to find out which one it was?” Now that’s a question I don’t have the answer for.
Standing there for a moment as I work on a plan, I light up a cigarette and inhale, letting the smoke settle in my lungs. I have two choices. Wait out here until the bastard comes out, or walk straight in with Hope and get her to point him out to me. But the moment they find out he's dead, the finger will be pointed at me.
“I’ll go in and play the lawyer card,” Jackson tells me walking away. I look down at Hope as she puts her hands into her pockets. Standing in front of her I pull her closer to me, wrapping my left arm around her so that she can have some of the warmth from my body. Feeling her hot breath hitting my chest, I want to smile, but I don’t. I need to focus on what I have planned for the night; I need to have a clear mind for it.
Jackson returns and hands his phone to me. “So, I have a picture of all the men in there, just have to get Hope to point him out. I told them that I’d go to the police about what they’re doing there if anyone refused to have their picture taken. He laughed. “Most of them were high and didn’t even know I was taking photos. Two of them said no, but I took them anyway.”
"And after tonight then what?" I ask him. The reason that I have him with me is because if anything goes wrong, he knows the law and would be able to get us out of trouble. But showing his face like that isn't exactly going to help.
Jackson doesn’t seem worried. “Before they even know the asshole is dead, I’ll have something to blackmail them with to make sure that their mouths stay shut about me being here.”
"Can you flick through and see which one he is?" I ask Hope, and she takes the phone from my hand. I see her finger moving the picture as she points to the culprit.
She hands the phone back to me, and I take one look then turn to Jackson. "I'm taking Hope home; I'll be there in an hour. You take John, I'll bring the other car," I tell him and without a word Jackson gives me a nod as I walk away from him.
***
I told Hope to go to sleep once we left the bastard’s house. She mentally locked herself away when we were heading back home; she didn’t even lift her head up once, not even for a second but I chose not to ask her what was wrong. Pointing the asshole out was enough for me.
It took over an hour to get to the warehouse and as I walk in Jackson tells me, “I think I’m going to enjoy watching you kill him. I know that we go after certain people, but this is one fucked up man,” he says as I take his cigarette from him.
Slowly walking over and sitting on the chair in front of the bastard, I glare at him. He looks like one of these pimps that will mess up a girl if she doesn’t do as she’s told. The fucker stares back at me as though he has so much to say and I don’t think any of it will be nice.
There's a stupid smirk on his face, and I want to beat it off him. "You know if you just tell me the girl's name that fucked up your day, I'm more than happy to—"
“Shut the fuck up!” I want this man to feel pain; I want him to know that he messed with the wrong girl and I’m going to make sure that this fucker never touches anyone ever again. Standing up, I grab the baseball bat from against the wall and give it a big swing then hit his knee and he screams as I hear the bone break.
“You fucking asshole!” he yells.
He opens his mouth to say a few more things to me, but I punch him over and over and over again. I can feel his blood on my hands, and as I take a step back from him, I can't help but smile as I see the red dripping from his mouth.
Standing over him, I hear him trying to catch his breath. “What the fuck did I do to you?”
I shrug. “Nothing,” I tell him and watch him trying to sit back up.
“Then why are you doing this?”
"Because assholes like you think that you can touch a girl and no one will protect her." I kick him in the face and his blood splats on the bottom of my pants. His hands are flat on the ground as he tries to get back up only this time I kick him in the stomach. Then, sitting on top of him, I begin punching him over and over again. His blood splashes all over my skin and clothing. Jackson places his hand on my shoulder. "Leo, he's done," he tells me as we peer down at him lying lifeless on the floor. "John's here to take you home. Put everything in a bag, and I'll get this all cleaned up."
Standing up, I stare down at him for a final time. I've killed a man that was never on my list; a man that had no information for me. I did it all for Hope, and I will kill every man that ever hurt her. I'll hunt them down, kill them all slowly.
***
"Sir, Jackson said to have the clothes in a bag, and he will be over to pick them up."
Giving John a nod, I make my way to the couch. I lean back and close my eyes. I take in a deep breath as I remember the sound of the bastard's bones breaking. I feel something cold on my hand, and I slowly open my eyes to see Hope putting a wet towel on my knuckles.
She starts unfastening my shoes, and when she has pulled them off, she throws them into the bag on the floor. She must have heard John at the door. Sitting up, she wipes the towel over my hand and puts it back in the water she's brought to clean it before placing it on my skin again.
Hope moves between my legs and pulls my shirt out of my pants then she starts unbuttoning it from the bottom. This is the first time that my clothes have been covered in so much blood after a night. I'm usually more put together in these situations but something overtook my body tonight, and I just kept hitting the bastard over and over again.
I stay in my position as I watch Hope, cleaning me up. She stops with my buttons after two, then takes the towel off my hand and gives the other a clean. I quickly use my free hand to grab my cigarette box from the side table and light one up.
She picks up a fresh towel, and I watch her put it in the water, then she gets back to my buttons. I feel the feather-light touch of her fingertips move across my stomach as she continues to unfasten my shirt. When she reaches the last button, she holds her hands there for a moment, before letting the shirt fall open. Her eyes lock on my chest for a moment, she's looking at my scars, my history.
Hope's hand starts to shake as she brings it closer to my chest. Her finger softly traces over one of the scars. Her touch is overtaking my body, and as I close my eyes, she moves to the next scar. I don't let women touch my scars. I don't even show them if I don't have to as their questions are usually stupid, but with Hope, it's not a pain or a reminder of what happened to me. Her touch is making me feel calm, making me forget about what happened. I feel her other hand on my chest, and I inhale deeply.
I take another drag of my cigarette as Hope's touch is soothing to my body and the thrill running through me is a new feeling. I've never let a woman touch me the way Hope is right now. I open my eyes the second I don't feel Hope's hands on me anymore. Why has it affected me?
“You need to take this off.” Her voice is quiet, as her hands move to my shoulders. She leans forward so she can take my shirt and jacket off together. My face is so near to hers that it’s taking all my willpower not to close the remaining space between us.
“You won’t have to worry about him ever again,” I tell her.
I lean back into the couch as Hope puts the clothes into the bag. I watch as she rinses the towel again and takes it out of the water. She slowly turns to face me, twisting the towel in her fingers for a moment. My eyes are locked on her face as I wait to see what she does next. Her head moves up slowly, her gaze stops at my face, but she’s not looking into my eyes. Instead, she brings the towel up to wipe off the blood from my cheek.
I stop her hand and move closer to her. "Look at me Hope," I say in a whisper. With my other hand I place my finger under her chin and tilt it, so she looks at me, it takes a few seconds before her eyes meet mine.
The sound of her rapid breathing is filling me with a fi
erce desire to touch her more. "Hope..." All the power in my body is being pulled towards her. "I want to kiss you." I move my thumb slowly across her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" I want her to know that I won't take anything from her unless she wants me to. I won't push myself on her, and I won't force anything on her.
Her head nods in the smallest movement, but that's all the answer I need. Moving closer to her, my lips touch hers as light as a feather, and a weak gasp escapes her. Just the taste of her lips, I want more, I need more. I slip my hand to the back of her neck and deepen the kiss, being gentle with her. My fingers tangle in her hair; I’m desperate to explore more of her.
I feel her body relax under my hands and as she opens her mouth for me, I slide my tongue inside, wanting to taste every part of her. Her hands move to my chest as I pull her even closer to me.
I groan against her mouth, not wanting to stop for air. Hope is all I need to breathe.
"Where the fuck is the bag?" Jackson yells, and Hope pulls away from me quickly and dashes off to the kitchen. "Leo, you have one fucking job when you get home." He walks over to me, and as I take off my pants, I grab the blanket off the chair and wrap it around my waist so I can remove my boxers.
“Happy?” I growl, tying the bag up. I see Hope walking up the stairs.
Jackson watches me as my eyes follow Hope. “Please tell me you didn’t just do anything with her?”
“I didn’t do anything.” He doesn’t need to know about it, the fucker will only moan about it and say I’m doing the wrong thing.
“Of course you fucking didn’t. See you in the morning.” Jackson grabs the bag and leaves so I make my way upstairs.
I stop outside Hope's bedroom, and I just stand there watching her lying on the floor looking out of the window. Where do I go from here? What's my next move? Do I...? I have no idea. Shaking my head, I walk to my bedroom to shower and let tomorrow be a new day to see what happens with Hope.
Chapter 15
Hope
“This will be your room. The bed is to be used only when I want you, other than that you will sleep on the floor, but you know the rules.” He starts laughing behind me, he hasn’t even told me his name yet. All I know him as is the man that owns me, but all I want is my parents. I want to wake from my sleepover and my mom to come and pick me up.
Looking through the corner of my eye to see what I can of the room, but all I see is the bed. "Get on the bed." I feel his finger trace down my back, and a cold shiver runs through me.
Lying on the bed, I close my eyes. "Now you know the rules, your eyes are to stay open and you look at me." His hand moves to my neck. "I told your uncle everything I liked, and he better have trained you right." His hand tightens around my neck as he says the words. I remember the lessons, I remember the rules.
My eyes locked with his as his grip tightens more and his hand moves down my body. I try to look away; I want to close my eyes. I can’t breathe.
I wake up clutching my throat, struggling to breathe. Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath in then look around the room to make sure I'm alone. Moving over to the window, I look out at the lights. I want to see the lights of hope.
Leaning my head on the window I pick up the newspaper article, the one about the fire at the house and I stare at it; the house where my life was happy and now I live in darkness until last night. Last night was different. Leo asked for permission, they don’t ask permission. Leo was soft, gentle, but he still kissed me with power, control.
When he got home last night, I saw him in a whole different way, and things started to change. He killed a man that he's never met; he killed a man for me. Leo is trying to help me, he's trying to make my health better, and he's trying to make me feel safe again.
I want to trust him. I want to believe him, but it never stays that way. They always break me, he always broke me. I’ve lived with rules for so many years; I just don’t know how to tear my mind from them.
Leo’s is a touch that’s helping me. Helping me feel like I belong and I’m not just a worthless girl in a room.
Quickly folding the paper, I feel him outside. Hearing the door open, I look out of the window.
I hear his footsteps getting closer to me. He laughs lightly. “I didn’t even make a sound.” I see him from the corner of my eye as he sits on the floor and leans against the window like me. “Bad night?”
“Used to them,” I tell him. After last night I want to make to make more of an effort with him, even though every tiny muscle in my body is telling me to follow the rules. I’m trying to fight through them.
"What's in the box?" I grab it and pull it close to me, but he says, "I won't take it."
“I know.”
Sitting cross-legged, he places his hand on top of mine and the other moves closer to my face moving some of my hair away and putting it behind my ear.
“I know as soon as you open up to me and smile you’re going to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. How do I know that? You’re already so beautiful when you hide.”
My eyes close and I let out a tear I’ve been fighting. I’ve never been called beautiful. I’ve been called a lot of things, but beautiful is not one of them.
Leo's hand moves to my cheek to wipe away my tear. "I want you to talk to me, Hope. I want to—" Leo stops, and I wonder what he wanted to say.
"Do you kill a lot of people?" I ask. Last night he killed a man he'd never met, and he did it without even thinking about what could happen to him.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Leo tells me. I go to lift my head, but stop myself and turn back to look at the lights again. “The only reason I do it is so no one will get hurt by these monsters again.”
I nod my head. I understand if anything were to go wrong they wouldn't be able to link things together.
"What are you looking at?" Leo moves closer to me, and I can smell his cologne. It smells really good, like when I was sleeping in Central Park; the fresh woody scent in the morning. I always loved that.
“The lights. Where there’s light, there’s hope.” I lean my head on his hand where he’s placed it on my shoulder.
“I’ll give you all the light you want Hope. I’ll give you all the light in the world. I’ll give you everything you need.” Leo kisses my head and pulls me into his embrace. Just having his arms around me makes me feel warm and makes me believe he’s really trying to keep me safe.
“Work in the morning?” I ask him, as we sit there looking out of the window.
“Yes,” he says quietly.
“What do you do?” I don’t really know anything about Leo, except that he leaves the house in the morning, comes back and his best friend is Jackson. Although now I know he kills people in his spare time.
"We have a financial company, and when people want to borrow money for a business idea, they come to us. We look at it and decide if they get the loan or not," Leo tells me. They are clearly a family with money.
Shaking my head to release the thoughts about money and men from my head, I don’t think that Leo is the same; I know he’s not the same.
“Do you give money—” I stop as I hear Leo laughing.
“No, I don’t give them money that easily. They have to come up with a brilliant idea before I say yes.” Leo moves back from me and leans on the wall. “Are you planning on staying awake all night?”
“No, I’ll go back to sleep soon,” I tell him, looking over to the floor where I sleep.
“On the bed?”
I want to say yes. I want to say I will sleep there, but I can't lie to him, so I shake my head. The bed, for me, isn't a place I feel comfortable to sleep. A bed for me is something that follows with a nightmare.
“Can I ask why?”
Shaking my head again, I wipe the tears from my cheeks as I think about the days, the nights that I laid on a bed, just thinking about what he did to me.
Leo takes my face in his hands and turns me to face him. “Just tell me something, just something
little for now,” he pleads with me. But I close my eyes and shake my head again. What do I tell him? What little thing do I tell him?
“There’s so much... I…”
"Start from the beginning. Tell me...what was your room like?" I look at his face, and my eyes move to him, as my tears begin to build again.
“Uncle Jack kept me in the basement...a room about the same size as this bed.” I point to the one behind him. “There was a little room he built in the corner with a toilet and a sink. That was my cell for two years,” I tell him. I feel his hands soothing my cheeks as I tremble from the emotion tearing through me.
Leo sighs and clenches his jaw, as he shakes his head. I watch him for a moment; the silence around us is speaking the words we both want to say. “What about a shower or a place to wash?” I know he has more questions and he’s thinking of which ones to ask first and which ones will push me to the point where I shut down on him.
“I had to use a cup and cold water from the sink,” I whisper, moving my eyes away from him, to look at anything but the way he’s looking at me right now. There isn’t pity there, it’s more hurt, pain.
Kissing my forehead, he says, "Get some sleep, Hope."
He gets up and leaves my room. Leaning back on the wall, I look over at the door. Is tomorrow going to be a day when I feel I can open up a little more to him? I need to push the rules out of my head. I need to get them both out of my head, but the second I think about them, the rules appear at the front of my mind.
***
The next morning I hear Leo and Jackson in the kitchen, they got downstairs before me. I didn’t hear Leo wake up.
I run down to the kitchen to get breakfast ready for them. "I'm sorry," I say quietly to Leo, but as I walk past Jackson, I put my head down.