Darkroom

by Poppet

  "Shauna, baby?" Releasing his seat-belt, he turns to me, cupping my face, but I can't quell the tears. Hotly they roll, blurring him briefly. "Look, it's nothing sinister. We're here."

  Shaking my head I don't look, staring in broken devotion at my future husband. "I love you." It comes out hardly more than a whisper.

  "I know angel. I know. Shhh, come here." He releases my seat-belt, pulling me into his chest, kissing my eyes closed. "It's all been too much for you, hasn't it? And now you have erratic hormones playing an opera with your body."

  Nodding, I bury my face into his stubbly neck. I love the abrasive loving sandpaper of him against my cheek. He smells good too. Relishing the haven he's become.

  "I didn't mean to scare you, honey."

  Pulling back, I stare into his eyes. They're like smoky oak matured liqueur. The light from outside illuminates them just enough to show the chestnut highlights next to his pupils. These are the eyes that gaze on me with unconditional love. I've pulled him into my hell, he did not flinch, he did not run. He stood firm, enabling me, empowering me, loving me. Saving me.

  Softly I hold his face in my hands, licking the tears off my lips before pressing them gently against his. Some people have hard lips, that don't yield when you kiss them. Ours seem to melt together, warm, soft, fusing together in affection.

  I can feel him smiling. When I break the contact to stare into his soul again, he asks, "What is it?"

  "You've done so much for me. I don't deserve you. You've been my super-hero, my rock, and somehow, despite everything, you've managed to love me."

  "From the darkness into the light. You're my angel, you deserve all of it baby."

  Shaking my head I reject his perspective, "I'm not an angel, but you've treated me like one."

  He smiles, kissing me as if it's a punctuation, "Come, let's get lunch and go and sit on the rocks."

  Shaking my head I ask nervously as I stare out of the windscreen at a tiny shack of a place. This place is so dodgy it's enough to make me paranoid for my safety, "You go. I'll wait here."

  He nods, pausing to kiss me with undeniable passion, before stepping out of the car and walking into the shack.

  Appreciating the view of him, I watch him walk away. He has a silent resilience hidden by self-assured confidence. I can't believe how I've argued with him. I've fought with him over Vengeance. Over my memories. When all he did was try to help, to be there for me. How did I get this fortunate? I'm so afraid, living in fear for so long, a part of me still fears this will all end. If my parents couldn't love me, how can he? I was born into hell, and I've simply descended through the many levels of it with age. Maturity simply brings new lows, new pain, different degrees and shades of silent anguish. Sometimes the pain of being alone, rejected, struggling, it's been agony. My life has been endless agony. Vengeance was the manifestation into the physical of what I experienced silently inside myself.

  Victor comes striding up to the car, opening my door and offering me his hand, "Come."

  I won't ruin this for him. He wants to show me something. Plastering a smile on my face, I catch the tears before they fall. I feel humbled. That's what it is – he humbles me.

  Carefully we pick our way over huge light grey boulders that line the shore behind the shack. Sitting with me close beside him, he hands me a wrapped, blistering hot package. "Eat."

  I unwrap batter-covered, deep fried hake with good old fashioned chips. This reminds me so much of home, it gives me a new level of ache in my chest.

  "Despite the shoddy appearance, that shack makes the best fish in Cape Town."

  My eyes are veiled now by sunglasses, so instead I squeeze his hand, kidnapping it and kissing his palm, "Your love humbles me."

  His smile dissolves as he stares at me from behind his own sunglasses, his face seems so serious. Suddenly gripping my hair and yanking my head urgently to his face. Off balance I grip his knees for support as his now gruff voice speaks intimately into my ear, "You have no idea how those words turn me inside out for you."

  A quivering ripples up my spine. His tone, it's so much like Vengeance. I know it's just emotion but for a split second, I was back in the blindfold. Tears burst out in fright.

  He laughs, smiling at me, holding my head now by pressing the same fingers into my scalp, his mouth smothers mine, his kiss is brutally invasive. My logic shoves back at me as it dawns that his attraction to me is this deep, it's this basic. We connect on a primal level, I can feel it in his kiss. I can sense the unspoken desire to throw our lunch up into the air to the waiting gulls hovering a mere meter away from us, gliding on the warm breeze, making a ruckus, he'd throw it away and screw my brains into the boulder I'm sitting on. He would, if society allowed it. It shakes my core, strength deserts me as his hot breath somehow sucks the air out of me.

  I must be hormonal. I'm over-feeling everything. The kiss ends, a perfunctory gentle peck is planted on my throbbing lips as he releases my head, smiling delectably. He has natural charisma and charm. He could have anyone, but he chose me.

  "Now eat. Fish helps the baby develop cerebrally."

  Laughing I sit properly, the sun baptising me with a warm glow of happiness. The ice-age in my heart has ended. I finally trust him. I know he loves me. Now I know, I really, deeply, love him.

  First I nibble it. Then the morsel informs my brain that he's certainly not a liar. It's absolutely yummilicious! He glances at me with a light-hearted smile which causes my heart to ache again with ecstatic joy. He throws a chip into the air and three gulls aim for it. One of them catches it, happily flying away. A laugh bubbles up, as I try, thrilled with wonder as mine too is rescued mid-air. I have never been this happy, ever. Hout Bay is a beautiful location where the crème de la crème live. The last thing you'd expect to find here is a shack, ugly buildings, huge boulders, all keeping such a delicious secret. I feel like I've become a member of the Illuminati. Finally I have access to the secrets.

  A reassuring hand caresses between my shoulders as he smiles, watching me throw more than half my lunch into the air, where it never hits the ground.

  Turning to him after lunch, I give him the greasiest kiss I've ever had the luck to plant on his sexy lips, "Thank you."

  Arms wrap around me, lifting me to his level. I feel like one of those sickly sweet commercials for Viagra. Or incontinence tablets. I'm blinded with pure romance, for the first time in my life. Perfection has a name, Victor.

  Chapter 41

  The camera can be the most deadly weapon since the assassin's bullet.

  Or it can be the lotion of the heart.

  ~Norman Parkinson

  Last night was fabulous, so the way Victor is briskly moving about worries me. Propping myself up on an elbow, I watch him taking clothes out of the closet and putting them into bags.

  "What's going on?" I ask sleepily.

  "We're getting away for a few weeks."

  "Why?"

  Stopping, he walks over to me, sitting down and putting an arm either side of my hips, leaning in and kissing me slowly. Sucking my lip delectably. "Angel, I love you. I want this baby to get the best start in life. You need time to sort your feelings and your head out, so we're taking a mini vacation."

  His thoughtfulness steals my lethargy. Instantly excited, I squirm to sit up. "We are? Where?"

  "It's a surprise."

  Shooting me a wink, he grins cutely as if he's hiding a huge secret, "Get dressed, brush your teeth, we're running away from Vengeance and responsibility."

  Scooting out of bed, I have that five year old Christmas morning feeling. Giggling with excitement, I dash to do his bidding.

  Driving us out to Hout Bay, my heart is singing celestial harmonies. I'm in love with a man who can do anything, whenever he wants to. Half excited and mostly flattered, again I'm reminded of how much my life is about to change. Glancing at the ring on my finger, a thrill skims through my nervous system. My life just got better. I've just become the luckiest girl on the planet.
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  The hand squeezing my leg draws my attention to him, suave and gorgeous in black, his heart-throb features partially hidden behind dark sunglasses. "Are you happy angel?"

  Nodding enthusiastically, my heart pumps out an award winning smile, "Yes. Very."

  He parks the car on the edge of the bay, confusing me. Getting out of the car, he unpacks the bags, and walks to the rocks, calling to someone. A gruff, mean looking man appears out of nowhere, taking the car key from Victor, nodding as he gets instructions.

  Concerned I get out of the car, fear crawling my nape like a tarantula looking for an entry point to poison me. Victor smiles, waving me over as the bulky man starts taking our bags, throwing them out of my line of sight. Skirting the other man, I rush down to Victor, where I spy a speed boat waiting for us.

  "Isn't she beautiful? That my angel, is a XSMG XSR48." Holding my hand he steps off the rock onto it, helping me jump, then he leads me down into the interior with a warm firm hand supporting me. It's like being inside a space ship. It's absolutely fabulous. He waves off the other man, while a new man packs the bags away. Victor's solid strength presses against my back, lining my spine with silent support, holding me against him before seating me in a lavish angular-lined seat. It's like a futuristic hotel in here.

  "Shauna this is Pete. Pete, my fiancee Shauna."

  Pete is the same height and build as Victor, except he has light grey eyes and short sandy blond hair, worn ruffled in the 'just-out-of-bed' look. He seems nice enough as he flashes a perfect smile at me, holding out a hand, "Nice to finally meet the girl that got the guy."

  He makes it sound like I seduced Victor, knowing he was this loaded. I couldn't premeditate anything if I tried. An uncomfortable heat smothers my cheeks as I shake his large hand in return. His hands are rougher than Victor's. Trying not to be obvious I drop my gaze, noting manicured and clean fingernails. "Nice to meet you Pete."

  He shoots a wry grin at Victor, giving me a chance to examine his face. He looks almost like a surfer, he has that relaxed air about him. His face holds dimples in each cheek, and is smoothly shaven. He looks so out of place in this refined super deluxe boat and I've just noticed he has a hole in his light blue jeans in the left knee. I'm instantly embarrassed as he catches my eye, smiling widely, noting my surveillance. He turns around, revealing perfect gashes in the back of each thigh, "They're designed to look like this," he teases me before heading away to the controls.

  Victor flops down next to me, planting a kiss in my neck, "Get comfortable baby, we're off to the boat."

  "The boat?"

  Commanding my chin, his sunglasses propped on his head, he leans in to suck the breath out of me before murmuring, "A cruise. He'll never find us out there."

  Pete cuts the engine and I finally stop staring out of the window at the endless sea all around us, as far as the eye can see. It's such a perfect day, hot and sunny; a gentle breeze kissed my hair on the shore earlier. My stomach is a knot of anxiety as I let Victor lead me behind him, holding my hand, guiding me onto the deck of the yacht. Immediately his deep baritone begins explaining what I'm looking at, "This is a sixty meter Orcageno, with enough room for a crew of fourteen, and twelve guests."

  Leading me up steps he continues, "Open air lounge, sun deck, Jacuzzi, and spa. It was designed by the Egyptian studio Pharos Marine."

  I'm not used to this. I still think of him as my neighbour who lives in a small apartment next door to mine. I have to ask, "Is it yours?"

  The smile he gives me is smug as he nods in a dismissive way. Forcing me to trail him as he strolls to the bar, pouring himself a whiskey, then pouring me lemonade with a twist of lime and ice. "Pete's our captain. So we can just sit back and relax. It's just the three of us for the next six weeks."

  "Six weeks?"

  Vertigo snaps my confidence, making me sit down heavily on a stool in front of his bar, "Holy crap."

  Coming to stand behind me, he folds his hands over my abdomen possessively, "You needed to get away and relax. This is for you angel."

  We're in the middle of nowhere on an azure ocean. We start moving, and I watch as we slip serenely through choppy water, surrounded with nothing more than a salty aroma, the only witness I have is the sun which is becoming really hot. Taking a sip of my lemonade, I replace the glass on the bar. Leaning my head against him, closing my eyes. I'm overwhelmed. He's a whirlwind. Baby steps, I needed to be introduced to all of this with baby-steps. All the fighting and now this? How am I suppose to cope?

  The world spirals dizzily when he picks me up, a roguish smile on his face, carrying me below deck to the cabins.

  ***

  She's asleep, finally I get a chance to be alone with Pete.

  "So what are we using? Diesel or liquid hydrogen?"

  "Hydrogen for now," Pete responds lazily. Wearing nothing more than his baggies, feet propped up on the chair opposite his. Arching a serious eyebrow, he keeps his voice low, "So what's the plan V?"

  "She can't run away now. It's time to reintroduce her to the cell. I'm going to spin her a story of it being therapy. Which isn't exactly a lie. Cognitive behavioural therapy works exactly like this. Forcing the patient to face their fear, by being put into the same situation, with someone they trust. Facing their fear to overcome their phobia and deep seated psychological paranoia."

  He nods, smiling coldly. "And if it doesn't work?"

  "It will work. I checked with Seth though, we can administer Flunetrazepam in the first trimester. Although it's a last resort."

  "Flunetrazepam?"

  "Roofies, Rohypnol, whatever you want to call it."

  "Okay," he nods, taking a sip of his lager.

  So proud I've thought of this, I share with my most trusted ally, "And, we're going to try hypnosis."

  He starts laughing at me, smiling widely.

  "You brought your armour?" I check.

  "Yep. And yours."

  "Good."

  "What about emergencies?"

  "You have everything you need Doc. One cabin has been converted into your very own mini hospital. And we have James on standby with the chopper if we need to evacuate."

  That eases my mind. He can fly that Apache in any weather. The manoeuvres that helicopter can do will get us out of any situation, with fire power as back up if we require it. The plan is perfect. Holding out my glass of Macallan 1926 whisky, he tips his bottle against it. A silent toast to the final phase of inducting Shauna into the brotherhood.

  ***

  Days follow days, follow weeks. I've lost complete track of time. I have a deep bronze tan which a tanning salon would go bankrupt for, and am finally comfortable walking around in just my bikini.

  Pete feels like the furniture now. He has a calm demeanour and a way of blending. Often I think I'm alone, out on the deck sun tanning, listening to my iPod and enjoying the perks of being Victor's pregnant babe. Yet out of a shadow, he'll suddenly materialise. At first it startled the breath out of me. Now I think he's sort of Victor's bodyguard, placed to make sure I'm okay while Victor does … whatever the hell it is that Victor does. The two of them do all the cooking, and I'm supposed to stay relaxed and happy.

  We haven't argued, we haven't had a single altercation. There's a games-room where we play cards, I always lose. I win at Scrabble though. And there are all of the digital comforts. Apparently this boat has solar and wind power generators too. And after endless nagging, they finally told me we're anchored somewhere between Durban and Mauritius.

  The shadow of Pete lurks about ten meters away from me, and I am pretending I haven't seen him, when Victor comes and sits next to me. Politely I take out my earphones, shading my eyes to smile at Mr I-love-screwing-you-on-a-boat.

  "How are you feeling, angel?"

  "Good, happy …"

  "Shauna, we need to talk about a new therapy that might help you."

  Sitting up, I pull my hat on, giving him my full attention, "Why do I need therapy?"

  Leaning forward, pro
pping his elbows on his knees, wearing nothing more than black board-shorts, he speaks intimately, "Honey, you still have the nightmares and I'm beginning to fear for the safety of junior with this level of subconscious stress you're carrying."

  Although I'm comfortable with Pete, he's easy going and congenial, and has a calm way that diffuses tension, I am horrified that Victor is having this discussion out here where it could be overheard.

  "I've told Pete. I trust him, and he had to be prepared for your midnight screaming in your sleep." He rubs my leg absently, "He's the only man on this planet I trust with my life, which is why he's the only other person here."

  Why hasn't he mentioned this before? It would have relaxed me to know that. "What are you suggesting exactly?"

  "Exposure Therapy. It's a section of Cognitive Behaviour Therapy."

  "What's that?"

  "That is me, putting you back into a similar situation that Vengeance did, except this time, instead of torturing you, we make it pleasurable. What this does is retrain your mind to stop having negative associations with – for example, white ribbon, and sex. And leather. I haven't worn my leather jacket once, because I'm aware of how the smell alone will trigger your adrenal glands and stress your body and your mind." He leans closer, our lips almost touching, his breath infusing with mine, "Babes, I want us to face your internal demons. Let me help you."

  "I … hell Vic … I'm not sure if I'm strong enough."

  "Don't you love me?"

  "Yes, but …"

  "Do you love our baby?"

  "Yes …"

  "He is stressed along with you. You are damaging him in your sleep. Please angel, let me help you."

  Jesus, when he puts it like that … Swallowing heavily, feeling ill, I nod. "But Vic, please, be patient, be gentle with me."

  He prevents further discussion by inspecting my tonsils with his tongue.

  ***

  She looks terrified sitting with her knees up on the bed. Still wearing her white bikini, I can't help smiling at her. My angel must always wear white.