I could see Greg’s fingertips inching towards his knife as he approached the door.
Before he could reach the door, it opened. Standing in the doorway was Kyla, dressed in a sheer pink nightie. The little number didn’t leave much to the imagination, only vaguely obscuring her nipples. Had the nightie been cut any shorter, her pussy would have been in plain sight. The nightie was probably a good idea on her part, so Greg could see she wasn’t concealing any weapons. The added bonus was that I got to see her beautiful, practically-naked body—and I wasn’t about to complain about that.
“Hi,” she said.
My shoulders were nearly touching my ears; I was so tense. All Kyla had to do was say his name and he would’ve ended her life right there—and maybe mine too.
“Kyla Rose,” she said, holding out her hand.
Greg hesitated. Then slowly, he extended his hand. “Greg,” he said simply.
Thankfully, Kyla had not only caught on, but she was a far more convincing liar than I was as she explained that she’d been told to leave town until things settled with the reporters.
She was convincing enough that Greg apologized for being short with her, and then he went to bed. I went into the cabin’s main room and motioned for Kyla to follow. In the main room, we could talk and not have to worry about Greg overhearing, as long as we kept our voices low.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, making sure my voice wasn’t any louder than the crackling fire.
She stared at me with blank eyes. She could weave a complex lie for Greg, but with me she was speechless. Judging by the blank expression on her face, she had no clue how much I knew.
“I had to get away from town. I didn’t think there would be anyone here.” It seemed too convenient to be true. I thought she was lying until she looked down at her feet, trying to hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She wasn’t lying, but she wasn’t telling me everything.
“And Liam?”
“He stayed behind,” she said, not looking up from her feet. “He had to w—” She caught herself before she could finish the sentence—probably remembering that it was because of me she knew Liam had been canned. “He’s out looking for work.”
I still couldn’t figure out why she was protecting the piece of shit. Though I don’t think she knew either. I grabbed her arm and spun her around, checking her body for more bruises. Thanks to her sheer nightie, I could see everything—including her perky butt cheeks and the black panties that hardly covered anything at all. A quick glance at the supple ass and I’d almost forgotten what I was looking for in the first place.
I was looking for bruises—right.
There were a few fading bruises on her arms, and a small cut that she kept hidden by letting her hair hang over her cheek.
“Did he do this?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Then why are you here, Kyla?”
She shrugged and then brushed a stray tear from her cheek. “We aren’t perfect, okay? People have flaws. That doesn’t make them bad.”
I knew it. I knew that little bastard wouldn’t honour his word. Some Marine he was. He was probably one of those piece of shit soldiers who shot himself in the foot so he could come home early. Or maybe he was one of those lazy soldiers, a reckless son of a bitch who endangered the lives of his whole platoon so he didn’t have to get his new boots wet, and so he could get a couple extra hours of sleep in. I could feel my hand clenching into a fist, wishing Liam was there.
Kyla saw my fist and shook her head. “You know, you aren’t perfect either. You think going around, acting like some kind of cowboy makes you better than anyone else?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, my mind drifting back to the Congo.
Private Mayer was our platoon’s medic in The Congo. He was one of five that survived the ambush—along with me, Sammy, Greg, and Lieutenant Niles. Private Mayer was a devout Christian from Louisiana. He’d always seemed a bit off, like there was some wire loose in his brain. After three months in the camp, he started cursing God and he threw the cross they let him keep into the fire. He started getting too friendly with our captors for my liking, bowing to them despite never being told to, agreeing with everything they said like they were the words of God himself. When we started to plan our escape, Mayer threatened to turn us in. He said to us, “Escape? But they’ve given us everything.” He tried to rat us out.
We did what we had to do.
But I’ll never forgot those eyes—those lost, sorrowful eyes. Kyla had those same eyes now. There was nothing funny about them, but still, no other reaction made any sense.
“You’re an asshole,” she said.
“You need to leave him.”
“Why? So you can have me? It’s not going to happen, Hunter. We aren’t kids anymore. You can’t just go around and take everything you want.”
I laughed. “You need to leave him because he’s beating your ass and that’s bullshit.”
“I can’t just leave him.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t respond, though I could tell she was searching her brain for an answer—if not for me, than for herself. She never came up with anything. Instead, she shook her head and told me she would be gone in the morning.
I told her to sleep in my bed, and I took the couch in the main area. Though I didn’t give up the bedroom for the sake of chivalry. I didn’t want her leaving in the morning without me noticing. The cabin had one entrance—one exit—and the old, lumpy couch was right between it and the bedroom.
PART TWO
We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won't allow them to write "fuck" on their airplanes because it's obscene.
MARLON BRANDO, APOCALYPSE NOW
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It wasn’t until the morning that I realized why Hunter gave me the bedroom. It was silly of me to think he was being courteous.
I managed to make it out from the bedroom and halfway towards the cabin’s main room without waking him up. The couch was only a few feet from the front door. Getting my shoes on was going to be a whole other challenge, but I was going to cross that bridge when I got there.
Greg’s bedroom door was open, and his bed was empty. The bathroom door was open, and it too was empty. Greg was gone. One less person I had to worry about waking up.
I tiptoed past Hunter and reached the front door, feeling the cool breeze against my toes from the slit under the door. I still didn’t know where I was going to go—that was another bridge I would cross once I reached the highway. Maybe I would go back to Nintipi and just pray Liam forgave me. Or Maybe I would go north. I could stay in motels. I had enough money for a few nights in cheap rooms—and I’m sure I could beg my way into a few more. I bent over to tie my boots.
Then, I noticed his face between my legs, awake, smirking at me.
“I don’t know how anyone could hit someone with an ass like that,” he said.
I spun around around. That didn’t stop his eyes from exploring my body.
“Underdressed for the weather, no? I can’t imagine those tights are too warm.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, bending back over to finish tying my boots. I knew he was going to try and stop me, but I was mentally prepared. I wasn’t going to take any of it. I wasn’t going to let him manipulate me.
“You know there’s a blizzard on its way. If you aren’t fast, you’ll get turned around out there.”
“I’ll be fine. I know my way,” I said. If that was the best he had, I don’t know why I was ever worried.
“You should reconsider. If you go back to town, I won’t be able to help you from here.”
I laughed. His excuses were getting weaker. “I’ll be fine.” He watched me tie my final boot, do up my coat, and reach for the door handle. “Bye Hunter.”
“Don’t leave now,” he said. He still had a big grin on his face, his eyes still exploring my body, even wrapped in a coat. It was like he could see through
my clothes. Or maybe he thought if he tried hard enough, they would fall off.
I shook my head. “When you’re back in town, I’d appreciate it if you stopped by and apologized to Liam,” I said, turning to the door.
“Don’t leave,” he said again, his smirk disappearing. He was out of excuses. Now he was just begging and it was sadly pathetic.
I didn’t respond. I turned the handle and opened the door.
“Greg will shoot you if you walk out that door,” he said
I stopped, feeling the cold air, now against my face. The sun was only just peering over the horizon and the forest was black, in shadows. I couldn’t see Greg—I couldn’t see anything past the first line of trees.
It was probably another little trick to get me to stay, but I’d never been much of a gambler.
“He took the rifle and went out about an hour ago. I tried to stop him, but he thinks it’s his turn for watch duty. Greg’s a good shot, Kyla. He doesn’t miss. Don’t go out there.”
He didn’t have to say anymore before I closed the door and took a step back.
“Tell him to come back inside,” I said.
“How?” he asked. He was smirking again, beaming with victory. He was probably full of crap. Greg was probably out for a hike or something harmless like that. Still, it wasn’t worth the risk. Hunter raised his brow, waiting for a response.
“When will he be back?” I asked.
“I don’t know. In the Congo, we did six hour watch shifts.” Great. I was stuck with Hunter for five more hours. “And I wasn’t kidding about that blizzard. It’s supposed to be a nasty one. Might be a few days long even.”
I shook my head and sighed. “Wonderful,” I said, bending over to take off my boots. In the corner of my eye, I could see Hunter straining to look around my body, to see my ass. They say war changes people. But my mom was right when she said some people just aren’t capable of change.
Without the isolation, the cabin felt like little more than a tiny prison in the middle of nowhere. I’d been looking forward to a few weeks of relaxing quiet. Now, I couldn’t even remember what I’d planned on doing to pass the time. How did I fill my days when I was here, three years ago?
Whenever an activity sprung to mind, so did the thought of Hunter turning it into some tedious task. The bag I brought was mostly filled with books I’d been meaning to read.
But I couldn’t imagine trying to focus on a book while Hunter’s gaze fondled my chest. Dozing off during a long, hot bath was out of the question. The bathroom door didn’t have a lock on it, and there were gaps between the boards, just wide enough that any motivated pervert could see inside, and just thin enough that they could watch unnoticed.
“You can sit down,” Hunter said, patting the cushion next to him. He was sitting up straight now, with the blanket piled up at his lap. He was topless, and possibly bottomless too, under that blanket.
The last time I sat down next to him we ended up having sex. Hunter’s eyes were bright and wide and he was probably thinking the same thing. Five years ago, I was a dumb, vulnerable girl. I was grown up now, and I knew far better than to make that mistake again. Not that we would’ve had sex had I sat down with him—I was stronger than that—but I was perfectly happy pacing around the cabin.
“Suit yourself,” he said, laying back down with the blanket still pushed down to his waist. He put his hands behind his head. My God, his arms were thick, and his chest was stacked. I made a point of keeping my head up, and my eyes off his body so he wouldn’t get any ideas. Though I couldn’t help but take a quick glance when I noticed the dark lines along his ribs, out of the corner of my eye. My glance was quick, but he still noticed, his grin growing out towards his ears.
“So you got it, then?” I said, not giving him the satisfaction of looking back.
“Got what?”
“The tattoo. On your ribs.”
He looked down at his ribs, as if he’d forgotten what was there. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Sammy did it in the Congo using a needle.”
“It’s a lyric from a Nirvana song, right?” I said. “Isn’t that the band you were obsessed with?”
He laughed. “I decided not to get that one.”
Curiosity got the better of me. Keeping my distance, I looked over and tilted my head to read the tattoo.
Born Strangers. Died Brothers.
It was crooked, smudged, and nearly unreadable. “It looks like Sammy’s handwriting,” I said.
He laughed. “It hurt like hell, too. He really jabbed that needle into me.”
“What’s it from?” I asked.
“It’s not from anything. We just came up with it. I poked the same thing into his ribs.”
“Did you guys think you were going to die that day or something?” I asked.
“We thought we were going to die every day,” he said with an unfitting smile. “And Sammy did die that day. They shot him through the bars of our cell and left his body there for three weeks.”
“I don’t want to hear that,” I said, turning away. “Why would you tell me that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He sounded completely casual—almost amused, as if he was telling me about one of his and Sammy’s drunken adventures. It made me wonder just how much of Hunter’s brain actually came home with him from the Congo. Or was he seriously this insensitive? “Sorry,” he said after a moment of silence, finally with a glimmer of sympathy in his voice.
I continued to pace the room, trying to get the image out of my head.
“He was the closest thing to a sibling I ever had,” he said.
“Well he used to say the same thing about you.” I didn’t look over at him. It was more of a reminder, to help him realize he was should have been more grateful. “He worshipped you, Hunter.”
“I know he did. That’s how he got himself killed.” Hunter laughed again.
It was enough to tip me over the edge. He was lucky that hunting rifle wasn’t in that cabin, or I would have turned it on him. I turned to him and scowled. How could someone be so insensitive? Hunter just sat there laughing as if Sammy’s death was the punch-line to some half-brained joke in an Adam Sandler movie. “Watch your mouth,” I warned him.
Now he was laughing at my threat. “Take it easy,” he said.
“I won’t. Not as long as you keep acting like some pathetic ogre of a human being.” I could hear my voice become louder with each word. “Sammy wasn’t perfect. Liam’s not perfect, I’m not perfect and you’re far from perfect yourself. Get off your high horse already.”
He stopped laughing but his face continued to beam that nauseating grin. “Wow, Kyla. Look at you, all grown up. You’ve got a bit of fire in you.”
“I want to go home now. Go and call Greg inside.” I should never have come out to that cabin. What was I thinking? Running away from my problems wasn’t going to solve anything. It just made me realize that I was a coward, and that I was just like him—just like Hunter. Both of us were just running from our problems.
“I can’t. I don’t know where he is,” Hunter said.
“I want to go home,” I said again, ignoring his excuses.
“Kyla, calm down. You’re just going to have to wait it out.”
It felt like my body was deflating, like all of my energy was draining out of me and soon I wouldn’t even have it in me to keep on standing. My legs were freezing from the cold air that leaked in under the door, and my head was burning up from the roaring fire in the fireplace.
A wave of dizziness washed over me.
I must have looked the way I felt. Hunter sprung up to his feet and grabbed me before I fell to the ground.
“Jesus, Kyla. You okay?” he said. His words sounded distant and faint, like I was only hearing his echo from the distant mountain range. He helped me down to the couch. “Sit there. I’ll get you a water.”
His eyes were wide and he moved quickly. For once in his life, he was taking something seriously. I must have really looked like crap.
He tilted my head back and poured water into my mouth. All I had to do was swallow, but even that seemed difficult. Is this what dying feels like? Was I having a heart attack? Or had all the stress in my life finally piled up so high that I was suffocating under the pressure?
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