Predator

by Michelle Heard

  Two weeks. I’ve been here for two weeks already, but it feels like it’s only been a day. I’ve fallen into a routine of cleaning and cooking, not that there’s much to clean, and cooking consists of heating up frozen dinners. I’m not complaining at all. Anything is better than Cup O’ Noodles.

  I haven’t had a full night of rest since we left the motel. I know it’s because Damian now sleeps in his own room. I realize how safe I felt with him watching over me. I’m too scared to sleep for long periods of time. The nights go by slowly, stretching the darkness in me to breaking point. It’s a constant battle to keep the memories buried.

  Damian is patient with me. He doesn’t ask many questions. I have lots, but I don’t dare ask them.

  “Morning, Cara.” He smiles for the first time, and it robs me of my breath. It makes him look younger. He almost looks normal where he sits smiling at me until I see the black ink snaking up from under his shirt, and everything about him comes back into focus. This man is far from normal.

  “If you want coffee, you better have some quickly. We leave in ten minutes.” His smile disappears as fast as it came when I don’t smile back at him.

  “Where to?” My eyes widen. Leave? Like, leave the house? I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.

  “Clothes for you and I need to take care of something,” he answers vaguely.

  I take a sip of my coffee and then blurt out the question, “Did you just wake up and decide to do this for a living?”

  “You like asking questions,” he says. He pins me with a menacing gaze. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that look. It sends chills crawling over my body.

  “I don’t.” I swallow my fear down. I can’t stay here and not know something about the man I’m living with. “I haven’t asked you a question in a long time. I just want to get to know the person I’m living with. It’s not every day I meet a-” I snap my mouth shut and stare at my coffee.

  “A cleaner. I’m referred to as a cleaner. And no, I didn’t just wake up and decide I wanted this life for myself.” He clasps his hands together and leans forward on the table. I’m surprised when he continues. “Someone close to me was taken while I was away on tour. When I came back, it was too late. I killed the person who took her, and since then it became my job. Jeff is the only person I trust. He was the old man who stood guard outside the container you were held in.”

  Container… Old man.

  Memories I’ve been fighting to keep buried shudder through me like shockwaves. I drop my eyes to the floor and focus on the wood. I start counting the cracks to keep my mind busy. But one thought slips through. How much does the old man know of what happened in that container, and did he tell Damian? My cheeks grow hot with shame.

  “Shit happens to the best of us, Cara,” Damian says suddenly. “It’s how you deal with it that counts. You've gotta fight for what you want; otherwise this life will chew you the fuck up and spit you right out. You're either a fighter or a nobody, and I sure as hell ain't some nobody. You don’t look like some nobody, either.”

  I keep quiet after that. I keep running what he said over in my mind, wondering if I’m a fighter like Damian or just a plain nobody.

  “Cara, we’re leaving,” Damian calls out. I’m hiding in the hallway. I’ve been trying to scrape the courage together to walk out by myself, but yeah, that’s not happening.

  “Cara!” he snaps, and I have to drag my feet to get moving. I take one step at a time and halfway down the stairs, my chest closes up.

  As the front door gets closer, I can hear my panicked breaths. They sound distorted and way too loud. I wrap my arms around my waist when I take the final step outside. I feel dizzy and can’t take in anything but my next breath.

  “You’re doing good,” he says curtly as he walks towards the car, leaving me behind.

  My legs grow a mind of their own, and I follow him. When he gets in the car, I walk faster. Damian represents safety for me. Only once I’m in the car do I feel a semblance of calm washing over me.

  I stare back at the house. It’s old and shabby looking. Paint is peeling off in places, and the yard is scattered with dead leaves. The house suits us perfectly; it’s dull, and it looks tired.

  Damian stops outside a smallish mall and hands me a phone. When I take hold of it, he doesn’t let go, and I look up.

  “This is important. You speak to no one. You go with no one. Only phone the number that’s on it if anything goes wrong. Do you understand?” he asks.

  I nod. He’s letting me go by myself? My eyes flit to the mall, and I watch the people move in and out, just minding their own business.

  I can do this. I have to do this. I have to do something on my own.

  I glance back to Damian, and his lips are set in a hard line. “I need to hear the word yes from you, Cara,” he says, and his eyes darken to a deep charcoal.

  He seems worried about me.

  The thought rushes through me, causing havoc and stirring up whirls of unsettling emotions inside of me. I’ve been alone for so long. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have someone worry over me.

  “Yes,” I blow the word out on a hard breath.

  “Here’s money. Get decent clothes… stuff you like. I’ll be back in exactly sixty minutes.” His eyes hold mine. “One hour, Cara.”

  “Yes,” I say to placate him and to talk some willpower into myself so that I can do this.

  He reaches for me, and his fingers slip over my collarbone. He squeezes, and I realize that’s his version of a hug. I just don’t know why he felt the need to touch me, and I’m too scared to ask.

  “Make eye contact with no one and keep your head down,” he says, and the muscle starts to jump in his cheek. “Shit, I should’ve left you at home,” he blurts out.

  And then it hits me. He’s the one that’s not ready to let me go into public by myself, never mind me not being ready. This is a huge step for both of us.

  Damian Weston knows fear, too. He’s scared he won’t be here to keep his promise to me. The thought makes me feel oddly relieved.

  I smile for the first time and lean into him. I hesitate but then push through with the action. His beard is rough against my lips as I press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Go, Damian. I have your number. If something happens, I’ll go to the most public spot and phone you.” I quickly pull back and leave without a backward glance. I don’t know if he is half as shocked as I am feeling right now about what I just did.

  As I walk slowly into the mall, my eyes dart to every person in my near vicinity, assessing whether they could be a possible threat to me.

  My heart keeps pounding, and everything around me seems overly bright and loud.

  This is a huge mistake. Shit!

  I should leave and phone Damian so he can come back.

  “You can do this.” My voice is a desperate whisper.

  An elderly woman shuffles by me, way too close for comfort. I flinch to the side and then scurry away from her.

  Shit, I should run and hide. I should find a safe place until Damian comes for me. Panicked thoughts whizz through my mind, making me feel detached from everything around me.

  “You can do this,” I let the words out on a harsh breath. Shit, so many people, so many sounds. I’m going to die of a panic attack.

  I suck in a deep breath and whisper to myself, “I can do this.”

  Only after ten minutes of aimlessly walking around, do I start to relax a little, enough to notice the different shops around me. I head into the first one and go for the first display of shirts I see.

  They are more for summer, but I take them anyway. I just want to get this whole shopping trip over with as quickly as possible.

  I mix and match, trying to create some sort of style, seeing as all my stuff was left at the motel in Scappoose when I was taken. I make sure to get comfy underwear, too, and some toiletries.

  I keep an eye on the cell, watching the time. And then I see a pretty skirt. I’ve never been one for dresses
or skirts, it’s always been jeans. I wander over to the little black and gray number. On impulse, I take it. I don’t think about it again. I get a pair of sneakers and boots. A girl has to have at least one pair of boots.

  By the time I’m done and back outside, I have ten minutes to spare. There are no missed calls, no text messages.

  Damian comes five minutes later. His face is tense, and his worry-muscle is jumping overtime. He gets out and helps me place the bags in the trunk. He ushers me to the passenger side and almost shoves me in. I watch him rush around the front of the car, and then he drives slowly away as if nothing is wrong. His fingers grip the steering wheel hard until the tips go red.

  “What–” And then I hear the moan – an agonizingly low moan. I turn slowly in my seat and slap both my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming.

  We don’t go back home. Damian drives for hours, and then he finally pulls over at a shady-looking motel. He doesn’t say anything, and I keep quiet, not having the guts to talk first. As soon as we stop, I scramble out of the car and get out of the way.

  “Stay with her,” he snaps at me. I watch as he goes to the reception area.

  My eyes dart back to the girl. She’s covered in bruises and blood, and I wonder if that’s what I looked like when Damian came for me. But then I see her clothes. She’s only been beaten by the looks of it.

  A car pulls into the parking lot, and my heart stutters with fear. My eyes are glued to the driver when she gets out. As she walks to the reception area, Damian comes out. It looks like he got a room.

  My eyes feel huge in my head when I watch him lift the girl out of the car. I have no spit to swallow.

  Shit, I can’t believe he’s doing this with me right here.

  He was right, he should’ve left me at home … but he didn’t, and now I see how her blood is staining his charcoal shirt black.

  Then I hear him, and my heart stutters. “Everything’s gonna be just fine, Sweetheart.” I turn my head sideways as I search my memory, but I can’t find that tone or words anywhere. He never spoke so kindly to me. He’s almost cooing at her as if she’s a baby, something precious. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

  I move because I’m a sucker for punishment. I want to hurt myself, just like I placed myself in Steven’s way so he could hurt me.

  I follow Damian and the girl into the motel room, and I close the door behind us.

  He doesn’t take her to the bathroom like he did with me. Instead, he sets her gently down on one of the beds.

  Maybe I’m just not remembering it all, I start to defend him, but then that little voice that likes to cause pain pops up and sneers at me, ‘You’re nothing, just another job. Nothing but a mess he has to clean up.’

  “Get me the towels from the bathroom. Wet one for me,” he snaps, and I stare at him for a second before I’m able to make my legs to move.

  I walk into the bathroom and grab the bath towel, throwing it over my shoulder. I hold the hand towel under the water until it runs hot. I wring it out as best I can before I go back to Damian.

  He’s sitting down, and her head is resting on his thigh. There’s a stabbing sensation in my chest. I shove it away and hand him the wet towel first. I take four steps back when he starts to wipe at her face, removing the excess blood. She flinches away, and he pauses. He leans over her as if to shield her with his body.

  “Shhh… everything’s gonna be just fine, Sweetheart,” he repeats his words of earlier.

  I stand as if entranced and watch as he cleans her, and only when he’s done does he look up at me.

  “Please hand me the towel.” He gives me a sharp look. “You can lie down; they’ll come get her in the morning.”

  I give him the towel and move back until I feel the other bed hit the back of my legs. I slump down on it and scoot back until I feel the wall press against my back.

  I watch him hold her and repeat the words over and over. Words I now know with a desperate certainty he never said to me.

  I wake up with a start to loud knocking. I can’t believe I fell asleep. Although I slept in a sitting position, I still slept through the night. Damian is already halfway to the door by the time I realize that the knocking is coming from there. He peeks through the curtain and then opens the door. An older man almost falls into the room, and I scramble to get to the corner. I squash my knees to my chest and try to make myself as small as I can.

  Damian comes to stand right in front of me. It looks like a casual move, but I can’t see the man now, and that means he can’t see me.

  “My sweetheart,” the man coos at the girl.

  Tears burn in my eyes at the emotion weighing heavy in the room.

  “Daddy?” Her voice sounds broken, and I press my mouth against my knees to keep from crying.

  “Everything’s going to be just fine, Sweetheart,” he repeats Damian’s words to her, and she starts to cry, relieved, heartfelt sobs.

  It feels like something just died in me. I’m not sure what it was, but I feel lost without it.

  I don’t realize I’m rocking myself until Damian touches my shoulder. The man left with his daughter, and it’s just the two of us again.

  “Cara,” his voice is neutral again, and I press my face into my arms. “We have to go right now,” he says as if it should matter to me.

  “No one came for me,” I whisper to my legs. My breath is hot on my thighs.

  “Cara, look at me.” I don’t, not until his hands clamp down hard on my shoulders and he pulls me up against him. His face is inches from mine, and his breath is hot on my skin.

  His eyes seize mine. “I came for you.” His voice is filled with emotions I have never heard before. “I came for you,” he says again, and this time his voice is gravelly, filled with an emotion I can’t place.

  He presses me hard to his chest, and his arms are like steel bands, clamping me to him. I breathe him in, and I get lungs full of sweat and blood. I breathe in the scent that’s Damian.

  He doesn’t hold me for long, but it’s still comforting. He steps away and starts to clean the room and bathroom. I start to strip the beds the same way he did back at the motel we stayed in. I can’t comprehend everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.

  Once we’re in the car, he looks at me. Okay, it’s more like a two-minute stare. At first, I used to look away, but now I try to meet his eyes. “Bruises are almost gone,” he whispers.

  “Yeah.” We never have any real conversations. I’ve learned that’s he’s not the talking kind.

  When we’re home, Damian goes straight for the shower. I hang the clothes I got the day before. I should wash them, but I couldn’t care less at the moment.

  I go stand in front of the window and stare outside.

  I think of the feeling of loss I felt back at the motel. I think it was hope. I lost hope that I’ll belong to someone again. I lost hope that I’ll see my parents again. I know they’re dead, but for some reason, I always had hope until the stark reality was staring me right in the face. No one came for me back in that hospital. Sure, Uncle Tom stopped by, but then he left me all alone in a world I didn’t understand.

  No one is coming for me, and it’s the saddest thought. I know Damian said he came for me, but that’s not the same thing. Damian is just another person passing through my life, here one day and gone the next. I am a mess he’s being paid to fix.

  I have no friends, no family, and the thought leaves a wasteland where my heart should be.

  DAMIAN

  Why the fuck did I hug her?

  I’m pacing the floor in my office, trying to get my shit together. I’ve made two huge mistakes today; I hugged her, and I showed her that I actually give a fuck. That can never happen again. Whether I care about her or not – it doesn’t matter. What matters is keeping her safe.

  To get my mind back on the job, I decide to watch the fourth memory card. I’ve managed to watch the other three in the past two weeks, and it’s been much harder than
I thought it would be. Watching her being beaten like that, I have no words for the anger I feel.

  One thing I did pick up on is that she put up one hell of a fight every single time they beat her, but with each beating, she got weaker, and that was hard to watch.

  I’m relieved that this is the last memory card. I lean back in the chair and take my phone from my pocket. I go through my messages and see that there’s one from Jeff. He’s heard from the guy who is taking care of the paperwork for Cara’s new identity. That’s good.

  I hear the familiar sound as they open the door to the container, but I keep checking my messages because it’s normally the same thing. They first set up the camera. There’s another message from Jeff saying the final payment for the Johnson girl came in.

  “So now you’re going to beat me? You finally grew a pair of balls, Steven?” I hear Cara’s voice echo through the speakers. The anger in her voice makes me look up. As always, the light is on her.

  “No, Henry does the beating,” a new voice says. It’s not the fucker who usually does the beating and talking. I can’t see him yet, but Cara must see something, because she strains to get to her feet and then hisses, “I’m not letting you fuck me.”

  Wait? What?

  I lean over and turn the volume up by one notch.

  “Come on, Babe. It will be like old times.”

  Old times? So she knew this guy? How stupid could she be to get caught like that?

  She darts out of the camera’s view, but seconds later I hear something hit the floor. The camera doesn’t follow her this time. I frown at this. Normally there are a couple of guys in there with her. One on camera, one holds her down, and the other beats her.

  There’s only one man with her, so maybe she tackled him? Hell if I know.

  “Get off me!” she screams, and I quickly lean forward to turn the volume down before Cara hears it. I stay close to the speaker, so I can hear.

  For a few seconds, there are only scuffling sounds and then a clear, ‘No’.