Drowning (Tears of Sin Series)

by Rachel Firasek

Seth steps out and hurries into my path. “Alice, we need to talk.”

  “I'm trying to run.” I dart around him and return to my normal rhythm.

  He jogs to keep up. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don't really want to talk to you right now.” I'm about to start the turn when two arms wrap around my waist, and I'm suddenly upside down over a shoulder. “Put me down, you asshole.”

  “We're going to talk.” He tosses me in the truck, and I go back and forth between jumping from the truck and locking him out. Either one would piss him off and make me even more miserable. Seth jumps in and takes off. We drive for several miles without speaking. The foot between us might as well have been a mile. Seth drapes an arm over the back of the seat, his fingers super close to catching one of my curls, but I lean against the door. He didn’t get to turn it on and off when he wanted.

  I know where he's taking me, and I don't want to go there.

  We park near the grassy bluffs overlooking the water, and I want to stay in the truck. If we get out, he's going to tell me that whatever we'd started was over. He drags himself out of the truck like he has a twelve-pound anvil hanging from his neck.

  I shake my head when he opens my door. The wrinkle on his forehead, and the stubborn set to his jaw sinks home the need to stay in the truck. “I'm fine here.”

  “Alice, get out of the truck.” He’s all barking and pissed hottie, but it works. If I ever want to get out of here, I’m going to have to get past this little talk he wants to have.

  I slide down and walk along the ledge. “Why are we here?” He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I try not to breathe. To blink. Anything that might scare him away. “I don't understand.”

  “I know, baby.” He kisses the side of my neck, a chaste, warm peck against the sensitive spot below my ear. My toes curl, and a part of me comes back to life. “I just need you to trust me for a while. Okay?”

  I circle in his arms. How can he not get it? “Seth, you're the only man I've ever trusted. Don't you get that?”

  He drops his forehead to mine and whispers, “I love you.”

  I can't breathe again. I've been waiting for someone other than Molly to tell me that since birth. I cup his cheeks, my skin abrading on the sharp stubble lining his jaw, and kiss him. “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Alice. I love you so much it scares me.” He pulls away and turns his back to me. He loves me, but he’s still not facing me. I’m panting around the idea of a possibility with this man. We might be able to make this work. I want to make this work. “But we can't be together.”

  I drop to my knees, ignoring the damp grass. Bile burns the back of my throat. It would have been kinder to just push me over the cliff. “I hate you.”

  He jerks like I've punched him in the kidney. “Don't say that.”

  “I hate you. You're as sick as the sadist who marked my body.” I glance up at him, forcing him to see my demise. Seth swallows deep, his bottom lip quivers, and his blue eye’s blacken. “How am I supposed to get these scars off my heart?”

  He crumples to the ground, on his knees like me. His shoulders curl in, his body aging right before my eyes. He jerks in short spasms like he’s holding back a sob, but his vision is blurred through the crystals filling my eyes. “I...can't...do this. I'm not good for you.”

  I jerk to my feet, stumble past him, and climb back up into the passenger seat. I'm so angry the nerves in my hands are twitching. Seth takes his place again, but I don’t look at him. His breaths are the only noise filling the cab.

  “Can you at least tell me why you love me, but can't be with me.” A black bird lands on the hood of his truck, teetering on the edge. I feel Seth's eyes on me, but I won’t look at him. Can’t. He’ll suck my soul into those pretty eyes.

  “It's for…your…own good.”

  I sigh, and lean my head against the back of the bench. I roll my head toward him, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t. His eyes are searching my face. For what, I don’t know.

  The only thing good for me right now is getting out of this truck and as far away from the man beside me. I duck my head to my chest, letting the loose curls that had fallen from my ponytail to hide my face. “I'm sure. Can you take me home now?”

  There are tears hanging on his lashes, but I don’t want to see them. If I watch them fall, they’ll incite my own, and I’ve cried my last tear over this man. I’m empty now.

  My phone chimes when we're half way back. The unfamiliar number scares me a bit. I take the call and in a steadier voice than I feel, I say, “Hello.”

  Rowena's frantic voice crosses through the line. “Where are you?”

  The only reason Rowena would call me is if something has happened to Molly. I clutch the phone tighter. “I'm on my way home.”

  “Did you know that your father was having lunch with Molly?”

  “Yes.” As much as I hate it, Molly will always have a civil relationship with her dad. “She still sees him on occasion.”

  “And you let her go alone?”

  This day just kept getting better. “Rowena, she's grown. He's never hurt her.” Seth's hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Listen, I'm sure—”

  “You're so fucking stupid, Alice. Just like your mother. He may not be on you anymore, but what happens if he decides to take advantage of Molly.”

  “She's your fucking daughter, why don't you do something about him and protect her yourself.” I roll the window down and throw the phone to the pavement. Fuck Rowena. Fuck my dad. And fuck Seth James.

  He reaches over and grabs my hand. “Alice, what is it?”

  “Stop.” I jerk away from his wonderful, comforting touch. “You don't get to act like you care anymore. It's my fucking problems. I don't need a hero. I didn't need one before you, and I won't need one now. I'll save myself. I'm pretty good at that.” He barely has the truck in park before I slam the door and race up the stairs to my apartment—no, Molly’s apartment. I need the exhilaration of racing up the flights. I don't think he's following me, but that just means he'll beat me to the top.

  In our apartment, I find a brown suit jacket lying over the back of the couch and pick it up. The familiar scent of pine and smoke linger to the cloth. Molly is laughing, and then I hear his voice. I grip the material in my hands and wring it into wrinkled silk. I can't do this now. I turn and leave, rushing downstairs, and racing the few blocks to the Lace Cup.

  Ms. Miriam comes right over with my favorite tea in hand. “Rough day, huh kid?” She pouts, her thin bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

  “And then some. Thanks, Ms. Miriam.”

  I watch the people pass by the window next to me. I'm not sure how my life suddenly became so shitty again, but I’m not surprised. If life gives you something that's too good to be true, it must be. And Seth James is definitely too good to be true.

  With Molly improving, my dad will be around more. He’s good at bailing when things are hectic, but now that she’s able to get around with only minimal aid, he’ll want to dig his way back into her life. They’ll be spending time together at the apartment, and I’ll have to deal with him. He’ll be able to get at me whenever he wants.

  I never thought I needed a hero, but having Seth in my life—even if it was for a brief time—made me realize how nice it is to have someone to have your back. How would I go on without that now? I wanted it back, but I wouldn’t find it here. I needed a change of scenery. Some place that monsters didn’t grin while stabbing you in the back.

  Molly wouldn’t need me much longer. She’d get by with the help at Rowena’s. My dad could hire a live in for her. It’d probably make them all happier. Except for Mole. I know she’ll miss me. At least for a while.

  I have money stashed from my mother's insurance policy. I didn't use it to save my apartment or my degree, because mom taught me to always have a backup. The money is sitting in an account that I haven't touched since her death. I pay Miriam for the slice of uneaten pie a
nd drink and hurry out to take care of my business.

  I walk to the bank and enter the lobby, still in my running suit. Thank goodness it's the afternoon on a Tuesday. There aren't many people inside. The teller smiles pretty at me, and I do my best to return the favor, but it feels forced, and when her eyes dull, I know she felt it too. She hands me my withdrawal and tells me to have a nice day. I'm sure she has to say it because her words lack any feeling. I carry my small wad of bills and head to the bus station. I'll secure a ticket and then head back home. Hopefully, I’ll be out of this town by nightfall.

  I'm almost inside when a man steps in front of me. It's one of dad's lackey, the same one that tried to get me at the club. I'm not even scared anymore. I'm expecting him, and he knows it.

  “Are you just ready to accept your fate?”

  I think of running until another man crowds in behind me.

  “Let's go.”

  They lead me to a black car, and I fiddle with my pack of money. Henchman one turns in the front seat. “Did you really think he'd let you go?”

  I shrug. “I hoped.”

  “Listen, if you want to make this easy on yourself, you need to just give him what he wants.”

  I glance at the bruiser. He has dark hair, but it’s cut short, barely covering his ears. “I don't know what he wants.”

  He turns back around, and they drive to the edge of town. My pulse races at the familiar scenery. I know where we're going. Harrison had taken me to his secluded cabin before. It’s in the forest that surrounds the lake. I try the door handle, but it won't open and there are no locks to open back here.

  We arrive, and he's already here. He meets us at the door and hugs me. I shrink in his arms. “Alice, don't be that way. Give me a hug.”

  Numb, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze—mostly out of fear of what he'll do if I don't. The light smoky pine smell surrounds me again. I’m sucked back to a time when he beat me and stuck me out back staked to a dog spoke through the early hours of the morning until I stopped crying. He’d wrapped his smoky jacket around me, covering my wounds and making excuses to Rowena that I’d been locked out back.

  He tucks me under his arm and leads me into the one-room cabin. The table is there. Just like I remembered. I begin to shake. His mouth rubs against my temple. “No fear. We both know why we're here.”

  “I don't understand. T-two years.” I lurch away from him, but he grips me tight beneath my biceps, digging his fingers in until I wince and settle. “You've left me alone. Why now?”

  He takes me to the table and helps me lay down, gentler now that I’m following his lead, cherishing the movements as if he is tucking me into bed instead of an instrument of torture. “You have something of mine.”

  I shake my head, tossing my hair across my face. “I don't.”

  “You see,” Harrison leans down low, his nose tracing the side of my cheek, “I've recorded our sessions since the very beginning. The zip drives that I kept the film on have been stolen.”

  I roll to the side and retch. The acid burns up and out of me and all over his expensive shoes.

  He tsks and steps back. “So weak.” Most people would be disgusted, but Harrison would just get even.

  “How could you?” It is bad enough that I remember, but to know that he sat back and watched these memories over and over and now someone else had them makes me dry heave again. A wet rag presses against my mouth, and I wipe away my tears and vomit. He presses me back and begins to secure me to the table. I'd heard once that some abused people found a safe place in their mind to go to when their attacker came at them. But I can't escape life like that.

  He secures the belts across my waist and chains my hands above my head. After only a few moments, I’m bound and desperate. Under my breath, I whisper the Lord’s Prayer, my Catholic background coming into the forefront. I’m out of options.

  He leaves me lying on the table, stepping outside—to make me wait. All part of his game. Henchman Two comes inside and sits on a stool. I can barely see his profile.

  “Listen. I have some money in my pocket. If you'll just let me out of here, I'll give it to you. I can even rough you up so it looks like a struggle.”

  He pulls out his phone. The tune of a familiar game filters through the room. “No.”

  I close my eyes. I abandon the formal prayer of my upbringing and get real down and dirty with God. I pray that somehow Molly will begin to worry. Hope that Seth will come looking for me. But, how will they find me? I don't even know that Row knows of this place.

  My father struts back inside with his little black bag of destruction. “You didn't think I left, did you?” He takes out a pair of scissors, laying the cold metal instrument against the skin on my stomach bared by my bunched up shirt. He wouldn’t cut me yet, but he’d let me know he could.

  He molds his hands over my hips and drags his fingers up to my ribs. Not in a sexual way, but in a way that lets me know I was his. He has absolute power. The guy in the corner catches my eyes. I know he has to see my pleading, my eyes begging, but he drops his gaze to his lap and puts his phone away.

  Harrison grabs the scissors and works them against the hem of my shirt, cutting in a steady snip to the collar, leaving my bra in place. The tip catches in several places up my sternum, scratching the skin into angry welps. He peels back the cotton and smiles at me. It’s a smile daughters should be able to trust. For me, it just warns that he’s gone to his happy place. My pants are next. He makes quick work of the black yoga sweats and yanks them from beneath me.

  The guy beyond my dad perks up, scanning my body with both disgust and lust. The cool breeze from an open window chills my skin and adds to the goose bumps already racing over my body. Harrison traces a hand down the scar on my stomach, digging his nail into the sensitive tissue until I concaved my stomach to get away from the burn. “You are so much like her.” His hands splay over my stomach, and he lifts my waist, leaning close to run his nose along a deep scar that resembled an appendectomy wound. “Strong-willed and beautiful.” His head lifts, and he drops those steely gray eyes on mine, ripping me to shreds with the evil in their depths. “I bet your young man has been enjoying this body.”

  “No. We broke up.” I don't want this to in any way involve Seth.

  There’s a knowing grin on his face. “Did you?”

  “Yes. This morning in fact.” He doesn’t flinch, break eye contact, or do anything else that warranted surprise. I’m not stupid. He got to Seth somehow.

  He grabs my hand and twists until I scream. “Don't lie to me.”

  “I promise.” Every bone kinks against their joints, tightening ligaments and tendons until the pain resonates up my arms and pools in my chest. A fine film of sweat breaks out across my skin. “Please. He doesn't want me anymore.”

  “That seems to be the story of your life.” I nod, and he releases my hand. “I'm not sure how you got those drives, but you will tell me where you have them.” He uses the tip of the scissors to trace a ring around my neck. I have no idea if he’s breaking the skin, but the sting behind worries me that I’ll have one more bearable mark. “Are they at your bank? At the apartment?”

  “No. I don't have anything. I swear.” I scream in sheer frustration. He is probably going to kill me, and I still don't have what he wants. “Come on you sick freak. Just get this over with.”

  He clicks his tongue at me in that annoying way and pets the whip wrapped over his shoulder. “I think a few lashes should get you opened up.” I don't know if he means me talking or my skin. Either will probably please him equally.

  He takes a few practice runs with the short whip, the leather screaming through the air and ending on a thwack, and steps back. My body begins to pant without my permission. I want to stay calm and find a happy spot, but he has me to conditioned to this. My reactions are his to mold.

  The first lash lands on my stomach, just below my breasts. I hold back the scream that I know will give him the most pleasure. On the second
lick of the leather, I'm panting and sweating. A thin layer of blood trails to my waist. The henchman walks outside. He can lead me to my doom, but isn't man enough to watch it. Another sharp smack lands across the sensitive skin on top of my thighs.

  “Do I have your attention yet?” I glare at him, and tears seep from the corners of my eyes. I'll have new scars. I can feel the tickle of blood creep along my skin. His phone rings and he stops to answer. Any tension I may have caused him has eased from his voice. “Molly, what is it?”

  I scream. “Molly! Molly, please come get me. He's hurting me!” His fist connects with my mouth, and I see stars. My lip is split and blood slides down my throat. The throbbing in my broken flesh is only a shadow of the pain he will cause me. Fucker is really going to kill me.

  Harrison barks into the phone and closes it. “Why did you do that?” He storms from the room, and I'm left alone. All I could do now is hope for a quick death.

  Henchman One comes back into the room, carrying a robe, and releases me from my bonds. “Your father wants to talk to you outside. Here.” He thrusts the robe into my trembling fingers and shakes his head. Every time I try to lift my arms, the skin across my upper abdomen burns, twisting my guts in agony. The guy guides first one arm, then the other, into the sleeves and pulls it tight across my body, careful not to touch any of the bleeding wounds. I cringe against the hands knotting the sash around my waist. “Hold still.”

  I wobble onto the porch, teetering back and forth between passing out and fleeing. Each step forward ignites every nerve ending in my body. My hair brushes against my robe, and each follicle screams. The rake of my tongue across my teeth breaks open each taste bud in its path, and I taste the blood from earlier in sharp, metallic dribbles. My feet aren’t damaged, but the nerves there are hyper sensitive. The rotting boards of the porch tickle, scraping along my heels. I hiss with each step.

  My dressing partner grabs my elbow and helps me down the first step. Behind me, in the darkness, somewhere by the small window balanced in the rough wood, my father warns, “You will tell your sister that you've been at the park running all day, and I haven't touched you.” I pivot on the step and look back in the general direction. He steps into the glimmer of light cast by the first rays of moonlight. “That she must have heard the TV in the background. If you do not, I'll kill you both.” His mouth twists into a snarl, and his eyes bleed fire. “I will not have some damn ungracious daughters fucking up all that I am.”