Blaire's World: Volume One

by Box Set

I stand up. I open the door. And I start running.

  I had wondered if the house was wired, electronically monitored. I got my answer the moment I reach the car and unlock it, flinging the door open.

  “Luna!”

  My head jerks up as Andres hits the edge of the door frame, bellowing for me. He’s lurching, his mind still fragmented from sleep, but having been quickly wakened from some kind of alarm when I fled from the house. I know I don’t have much time. This is a man used to making snap decisions. A man that kills without blinking, with only seconds notice.

  I leap into the car and slam the door shut behind me. I have enough presence of mind to hit the door locks, but I nearly freeze when I see him start running across the yard toward the car. I scramble to jam the key in the ignition but scream and drop them when I feel the car rock. I don’t look up, instead reaching down to grab the keys again. I think he hit the hood of the car with his fist and now he’s moving toward my window. I manage to fit the key back in the ignition and turn it despite my severely shaking hands. He tries my door just as the engine turns over.

  “Fuck, fuck, fucking motherfucker,” I mumble. My dear departed mama would be appalled if she heard how badly my language has deteriorated this week.

  “Luna!” he roars. “Open the door.”

  I’m shaking, I’m panicking. I know that next he will try to shatter the window. I don’t know if he’ll succeed. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. I grab the gearshift and throw the car into drive, hitting the gas. Only I don’t put the car into drive. Somehow, I’ve put it in reverse. I rarely ever drive on my own and I’m too upset to slow down and check what I’m doing. When I hit the gas the car lurches backwards. I scream as my body is slammed back in the seat by the force.

  “Luna, stop!” Andres shouts.

  I barely look up at him, too frightened of what I’ll see on his face. He’ll kill me for sure after this stunt. Why do I make such stupid decisions all the time? Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the house, waited until morning and tried to argue him into taking me with him. I’ve had Andres wrapped around my finger for five years. I could have convinced him to take me with him. Now he’ll never relent. He’ll never trust me not to be impetuous and stupid.

  “Idiota, Luna!” I growl at myself, slamming my foot on the brake. The car skids backward in the dirt, lurching and then tipping. I don’t know what’s happening. I finally look up. Andres is standing next to my window again. Except his face doesn’t reflect fury… he’s terrified.

  “Luna…” I see his mouth form the word, but his voice doesn’t penetrate the window. I don’t understand. I don’t know why the car is still moving backwards even though my foot is no longer touching the pedals. I twist around in the seat to look behind me but I can’t see anything but darkness.

  Yet the car is definitely tilting sharply. Then it hits me. The cliff. I’ve driven too close to the cliff and the car is starting to slide over. That’s why Andres stopped banging on the widow. He doesn’t want to accidentally push the car right over the edge. I frantically twist back around to look at him. I see despair written all over his face and I know the car is seconds from going over.

  “Seatbelt!” he bellows.

  His single word galvanizes me and I reach for the safety belt. But it’s too late. My fingers grab hold of the material, yank at it, just as the car tips wildly. I fling my head up to look at him, look at my husband one last time as I go over the edge. He opens his mouth, says something, maybe screams it, but I don’t hear over the rushing in my ears.

  Then I’m flying, my body free floating inside the car as it falls through the air. I try to catch sight of Andres one more time, but the car has moved, maybe flipped over as it falls. I feel a second of jarring, bone-crushing pain.

  “Andres…” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t do something stupid, like follow me into death. Our children need him.

  I feel something wet touch my face and I wonder if the tide is still in. Then nothing but the comforting embrace of darkness.

  19

  Andres

  Buzz, buzz, buzz…

  I wake up, instantly alert, my hand hitting the bed next to me. Fuck, she’s gone. I know exactly what’s happened, though I pray that we aren’t under attack, that Luna hasn’t been taken somehow. Impossible. No one knows about this place. She’s left, trying to get back to our children on her own. If she manages to get off the property she could easily be taken by an enemy if she makes a wrong move, if she’s detected in a place she shouldn’t be. All of us Decenas have targets on our backs. Luna knows this, but she’s desperate, exhausted, hurt. She might make a mistake.

  And once she’s home, if she says the wrong thing to the wrong person, her life will be taken. She’s too emotional to think clearly, she needs me by her side, tempering her reactive nature. I should have tied her to the bed. Shouldn’t have slept so hard. Shouldn’t have had that tequila. I should have known she’d run the first moment she had a chance. Our children mean everything to her.

  All this runs through my head in the split second it takes me to leap from the bed. I grab my phone, hitting stop on the perimeter alarm. I run for the door, hoping I have enough time to get to her. I silently promise that I’ll do whatever it takes to negotiate with my wife, to somehow make this situation more acceptable. Maybe when the children reach eighteen years I’ll explain everything, bring them to her. They can cry and reunite. She’ll hate this option, but it’s a sliver of hope in a bleak situation.

  I fly down the hall and around the corner to the kitchen. I see the back door is open and sprint for it, glancing around for the car keys. My hopes are dashed though when I make it to the door, pausing to glare out into the yard. I can see her clearly in the moonlight, opening the car door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “Luna!” I shout.

  Her head pops up for just a second, but then she ignores me and slams the door shut. Even though I can’t hear the locks I know she’s smart enough to have engaged them the moment she closes the door. Fury rushes through my system as I start sprinting across the yard. She better fucking have locked that door, because once I get my hands on her I’m going to beat her into next week. After I convince her to get out of the car. Convince her to negotiate with me.

  I can see her fumbling to get the key in the ignition, but her whole body is shaking. I don’t want her to be able to start the car, she’s in no shape to drive. I slam my fists on the car, hoping to scare her. She nearly jumps out of her skin and I see her mouth open in a shriek, or a sob. Grim satisfaction rolls through me as she reaches toward the floor where she must’ve dropped the keys.

  I fling myself around the side of the car, reaching for the door frame. I’m going to have to shatter the window. Just as the thought runs through my head she starts the car, revving the engine.

  “Motherfucker!” I snarl to myself, banging on the window, then louder, “Luna! Open the door! Don’t you dare drive away.”

  My anger turns rapidly to icy horror when I see her fumbling with the gearshift. “No, baby, no,” I beg, banging louder on the window, trying to get her attention as I see her put the car in reverse. I glance toward the cliff, a grim shudder going through me as I see how close to the edge I parked the car. She has no fucking idea what she’s doing. “Fuck!”

  The car lurches backward and I can do nothing but hang on and beg her to pay attention. “Luna, stop!”

  She twists around, her wide eyes trying to figure out what’s happening. Then she does exactly the wrong thing, jamming her foot down on the brake too hard, sending the car into a skid in the loose dirt. The back tires catch for just a second and then the car starts to slide on its own, tipping. I can already tell by the angle that the fucker will go over in a matter of seconds. I leap away from the window not wanting to make it go any faster.

  I stare at her, our eyes connecting. Hers are flooding with panic and, finally, understanding. “Luna… I’m so fucking sorry. For everything,” I say g
rimly, not loud enough for her to hear. And then my brain kicks into gear. I know I can’t get her out, but maybe I can make her a little safer, make it so she can somehow survive the disaster to come. “Seatbelt!” I yell.

  My gorgeous girl reaches for it, but she’s too late. The car flies up, clipping me hard in the shoulder with the side mirror. I’m thrown to the ground as it goes over the edge. I crawl to the cliff and watch in disbelief as the car flips upside down and lands with a splash on the surf below.

  “Luna!” I yell, tears stinging my eyes.

  I don’t wait, I don’t try to find an easier, less steep path down. I start climbing. I realize quickly that my shoulder is so badly bruised it’s nearly useless. I’m forced to cling to the cliff, slide and grab with my one good arm. I grunt in pain as I jar my shoulder. I don’t dare look down. I don’t know how high the tide is. What if the car is sinking? What if it’s already under? What if she’s drowning or drowns before I can get to her? What if she died in the impact? I know the odds aren’t good that I’ll find her alive. It’s at least a thirty-foot drop.

  As I near the last ten feet I finally glance over my shoulder. I can see the car. It’s either floating or the tide isn’t very high. Either way, I take a risk and let go of the cliff face, jumping into the murky water below. At first I’m enveloped by cool water, embraced, then I hit the sand as my legs reach the bottom. I’m jarred, but not injured. I surface quickly and realize I can stand. The water is only chest deep for me when the waves hit and knee deep as the tide goes out.

  I turn and make my way quickly to the car, terror filling my heart with each sodden step. The car seems to have landed upside down on some rocks, the back tilted up. I take a deep, gulping breath and drop to my knees in front of the windshield, which still faces the cliffs, where it’s most protected from the oncoming waves. I crawl underneath, swiping water from my face and I squint into the interior of the car, my hand on the glass. At first I can’t see her, then, as the waves recede once more, I see her.

  “Luna,” I whisper, feeling my heart shatter. She’s laying on the ceiling of the car in a pool of water, her hair floating around her. Her arms and legs are thrown in every direction and her head is tilted back. She isn’t moving.

  I hit the windshield with my closed fist as hard as I can. It vibrates beneath the pressure but doesn’t break. I know if I hammer it hard enough I will break it, but I’ll risk breaking my hand as well and with a bruised shoulder I’m already in rough shape for carrying Luna out if she’s still alive.

  It damn near kills me to leave her alone in there, for even a second, but I need to think smart. I leap away from the front of the car and head to the base of the cliff dropping to my knees. The water is relatively warm as it hits my bare back. My jeans are completely soaked now and stuck to my thighs and waist. I search until I find what a need, a decent sized rock.

  I carry it back to the car, and though I don’t want to lose sight of my girl, I know I won’t have enough leverage to smash the windshield where the car lays. I carry the rock around the side, lift it over my head and shatter the passenger side window. It only takes one hit for the entire thing to shatter into pieces and fall. I drop the rock and clear the glass.

  Without pausing, I crawl through the open window, ignoring the scream of pain in my injured shoulder. The second I’m through I reach for her. I stop though, my hand hovering over her still face. I don’t want to hurt her more by being careless, by moving her when I shouldn’t. But I can’t fucking leave her here either.

  “Luna, baby,” I whisper brokenly, finally dropping my hand to her cheek and touching her.

  She feels warm. I close my eyes for a second and then drop my fingers to her throat. I’m swamped by fear, but I know I have to find out if she’s alive. I nearly weep from relief when I feel the steady beat of her pulse against my rough fingertips. Never in my life has it been more important for me to feel the lifeblood of another human being rushing beneath my touch.

  Next, I lean over her, placing my head above hers, my ear over her lips. I hold my breath as I wait to feel hers. I can feel my heartbeat pounding against the wall of my chest as the seconds tick by. At first, I fear that she isn’t breathing. That I’m too late, that I made a mistake and she’s dead. But then I feel the delicate rush of her breath against my throat, familiar and warm. She’s alive. I know I shouldn’t move her without checking her limbs for further damage, but I’m overwhelmed by emotion. I gather her in my arms and hold her against me, thanking God that she survived the fall.

  “Okay, baby, we have to move,” I say against her head. She doesn’t respond, not that I expect her to. I finally do the smart thing and check her limbs for damage. I don’t see any obvious breaks besides her slightly swollen wrist, which I’m pretty sure was already broken from our time in the shower. I’ll save my guilt for later. For now I need to get us out of the car before it turns into a watery grave. I can’t be sure if the tide is on its way in or out or that the car won’t shift and sink beneath the surf. Anything could happen to turn our situation even more perilous.

  I pull Luna as gently as I can through the broken window, careful to protect her from the edge of the windowsill. A small moan escapes her lips as she falls into me, her legs dangling over my arms, her bare feet touching the waves beneath us. I stare down at her, watching for any hint or flicker of life, but she remains unconscious.

  I look up at the cliffs, judging the best place to carry her up. I don’t know what kind of damage she’s taken, why she’s unconscious. I don’t want to risk throwing her over my shoulder and scaling the sheer face in case I do even worse damage to her head. I walk through the water as quickly as I can until I reach a part of the cliffs that are less steep and start climbing. I do my best not to jar Luna as I carry her, but the going is tough and I’m trying to move quickly.

  As soon as we reach the top, I lay her out on the ground and check her out again, this time going over her more carefully. I feel her head and realize that she has a sizeable bump on the back. I pray there’s no brain damage, that she’ll wake up from this healthy and whole. As I run my hands over her body I think maybe there’s some damage to her ribs as well, but I’m no doctor so I can’t say for sure. I’m usually the one doing the breaking, not trying to fix it.

  Hands shaking, I reach into my pocket and pull my phone out. Thankfully it’s in a protective waterproof case. I dial the local Spanish emergency number and wait for someone to pick up.

  ———

  Luna is in a coma for five days. The first two are from the knock she took to the head, the last three are medically induced, to give her swollen brain time to recover. This morning the doctor took her off the meds that were meant to keep her under. She’s now on some serious painkillers for the cracked ribs, broken arm and twisted ankle.

  I am beside her, waiting for her to wake up. I snap at a nurse as she speaks too loud, touches Luna too impersonally, telling her to leave the room after she checks the intravenous drip. I want to tear all the shit from my wife and walk away from the hospital with her cradled safe in my arms. I hate being surrounded by unknowns where we can be picked off, easy targets.

  My family has already stepped in with the local law enforcement, smoothed things over for the most part. I didn’t have much explaining to do. As far as the cops are concerned Luna was in a car wreck trying to run out for ice cream at 3:00am when she accidentally put the car in reverse. Luckily, the noise of the car crash woke me up and I was able to climb down the cliffs to rescue her. They didn’t question anything, simply writing the accident off as a wealthy woman with very little driving experience.

  Luna’s doctor raised some concerns. He saw the finger marks around her throat, guessed that some of her injuries hadn’t come from the car wreck. He hadn’t wanted me in the room with her, but I wouldn’t be moved. I coldly informed him that we are on a second honeymoon and enjoy certain types of sex. My tone of voice did not invite further questions. And in the end, my power and family spok
e louder than his desires.

  Soon my brother will arrive. He intends to stay until Luna wakes. Or… if she doesn’t. He wants to be here whatever comes, supporting us. I need to talk to her, try to get through to her before he arrives. I pray that she can hear me. Somehow, I have to believe that she can.

  I take her hand in mine and squeeze her fingers, stroking the skin of her arm with my other hand. I imagine that I feel her fingers twitch in my hold, tickling my palm softly. I lean close and whisper in her ear, “Luna, mi amor, you must listen to me. Your life depends on this. We took the children to Havana for vacation but decided to send them back home to Mexico with their nanny. Then you and I came here to Spain for a second honeymoon….”

  20

  Luna

  I can hear something beeping and it annoys me. I hear voices talking in hushed tones, then a man’s voice raised in anger. I hear sneakers squeaking on the floor. Cool hands touch my arm, poke and prod me. These things all annoy me. I’m pretty sure death shouldn’t be so fucking annoying. The beeping, the hushed voices, everything, they all suck balls.

  I want to say something. Open my mouth and tell them all to fuck off. To bring me my sun chair and margarita. I earned some tasty booze, I earned heaven. I tried to be a good mother and wife. I tried to be the best! Maybe I was a failure, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I died trying to be the best I could be. I earned better than this annoying bullshit, whatever this is.

  It takes me a few hours… or maybe a few days, I’m really not sure since I can’t seem to open either my mouth or my eyes, to figure out that this isn’t heaven. Thank God! I’m probably not even dead. Death shouldn’t suck this much. Awareness comes to me in flashes, sometimes vague and floaty, sometimes sharp and painful. Like broken movie clips.

  I finally realize that I’m in a hospital. Which makes perfect sense. That means I didn’t die at the bottom of that cliff. Somehow, I was rescued from the wreckage of the car. I hope I’m not too disfigured. I laugh internally, because I still don’t seem to have control of my body. I know it’s a shallow thought, but I really don’t want to be ugly. I don’t have many skills. I’m vivacious and pretty, that’s what I’m known for.