by Marni Mann
Brooks weaves in and out of traffic, making so many turns, and I lose track of the way back to Miami. The farther he drives, the more disoriented I become. Maybe that’s his game—to throw me off and drive around until I’m begging him to take me home.
Huddled in the back corner of the van, I curl into a smaller ball and keep my eyes on the rearview mirror. Every now and then, Brooks’s eyes try to find mine, but I avoid contact. Nothing about the man behind the wheel is comforting. All I see when I look at him is a monster. One who is capable of far more than I ever could have imagined.
With each mile that comes between me and Adrian, I want to wave my white flag and surrender. Because, without him, I don’t want to see tomorrow or the day after that. What’s the use?
I put up a fight, gave life on the run a solid try, but nothing about escaping Brooks was meant to be. Not in the way I thought. I’m meant to suffer at Brooks’s hand, dealing with his many mood swings and incessant need to control me.
That’s all I’ll ever be—his.
An hour later, maybe longer, the van comes to a stop. Brooks cuts the engine and opens his door. I jump when he slams it harder than necessary, rattling the entire van. Waiting for his face to reappear in the back window, I see the shadow of his presence before I physically see him.
With an eerie squeak, the back doors part down the middle, letting too much hot air inside. I try to hold on to the air-conditioning, knowing that, once the cool air disappears, I might never feel it again.
“Andi,” Brooks says my name like he expects me to scramble into his arms, no questions asked.
But I have so many questions. I’m just too afraid to ask any of them until I figure out what he has planned, until I see how quickly he wants to get this over with.
“Andi,” he says again, “look at me.”
I wait for him to yell. For his spit to fly and land on me, but nothing happens. He just stands and waits, figuring I’ll eventually give in, like I always do.
But not this time.
This time, I sit in silence, letting his anger build and his impatience grow. It’s a risk, one that could have me meeting my maker earlier than expected, but I do it because I promised Adrian I would fight for us. That I wouldn’t give up and that I’d stay with him. Adrian’s no longer physically with me, but he’s lodged so deeply in my heart, I’ll hold on to our connection for as long as I possibly can.
Brooks sits on the bumper, his body angled toward mine. “Do you really want to stay in the van forever, Andi? Is that how you’re gonna play this?”
There’s so much I want to say to him. Something along the lines of, Fuck off, but keeping my mouth shut is just as effective.
“Andi, please,” he begs. “Has that dickhead already brainwashed you?”
Using my one weakness against me, he brings up Adrian. That gets my attention. Not enough for me to move, but enough that my heart starts to beat a little faster and my palms begin to sweat. I hate that I’m sitting here, wearing nothing but a bikini, exposing my body for his eyes to feast upon.
When I wrap my arms around myself a little tighter, he suddenly stands and slams the door. I listen to the crunching gravel beneath his feet, following his footsteps, until the side door of the van slides open. In his hand is a plain white T-shirt. I almost laugh.
He holds it out in front of me, and though I’m afraid it’s bait, I take it.
“That’s better,” he says when I show him a little bit of trust. Trust he doesn’t deserve and definitely hasn’t earned.
The longer we sit in silence under the scorching afternoon sun, the worse I feel. He continues to read me like a book, handing me his bottle of water when I look thirsty enough. When my stomach growls, he offers me a piece of gum, like it’ll fill me up. I decline both.
“Take it,” he says as he holds a full bottle of water in front of me. “You get headaches from the heat.”
I got headaches because he bashed my head in more times than I can remember. The heat is an excuse to make himself feel better. Brooks would never willingly take the blame for my pain. That’s not how he operates.
Before I drink from the bottle, I check the plastic seal around the cap, making sure it hasn’t been broken. I’m thankful it hasn’t been messed with, and I can trust that it’s only water inside.
The cool liquid soothes my overheated body but does little to help my anxiety. Regardless, I drink all of it because I don’t know when I’ll see more.
“I’ll be back.” Before I have a chance to ask where he’s going, Brooks closes the sliding door and disappears again.
For a minute, I panic that he’ll be gone too long, and I’ll suffocate to death in the van.
I look around for something to throw through a window, but Brooks isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t leave me with anything to use against him.
Three, maybe four minutes later, he returns. This time, after the door opens, he holds out his hand and says, “Please, baby. Come with me.”
Something about his voice grabs my attention. It’s no longer frustrated or angry, not the least bit annoyed or intimidating. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was sitting here with the man I fell in love with. The one who was my entire world.
I’m whispering his name, waiting for confirmation that he’s come back to me. That maybe the last year was all a dream.
“It’s me, Andi,” he says, desperately needing me to believe him.
His pleading eyes search mine, and I hesitate.
“How do I know that?”
“Because I love you, Andi. You’re in this van because I can’t live without you. I need you to come home with me, and I knew if I asked, you’d say no.”
“So, you stole me instead?”
“I can’t steal what’s already mine. I’m taking you back, that’s all.”
The way he talks about me like I’m his personal property and not my own person makes my stomach roll. He’s not sorry or remorseful for what he’s done. He’s sorry he let me get away.
“Nothing’s changed,” I tell him. “Absolutely nothing.”
He buries his face in his hands, regret sitting like a lead weight on his shoulders. Regret that he didn’t take me from the hospital when he had the chance. Regret that he didn’t do more damage the last time he touched me. Pounds upon pounds of regret.
What he doesn’t understand is that running led to the accident. The accident led me to Adrian. For that, I almost want to thank Brooks for tossing me around and stripping me of my identity. Because, somewhere along the way, I found myself. I know what I deserve, who I deserve. And I want better.
When he raises his head, I see through some of the hardened cracks. The good in him still exists; he just doesn’t want to listen to it.
“Why, Brooks?”
“Why?” he questions like I’m crazy. “Why do I love you so much? Why do I want you to come inside with me?”
I shake my head. “No. Why can’t you let go?”
“Because you’re mine, Andi. You always have been, and you always will be. There’s no one else on this planet made for me the way you are.”
If I’m so perfect for him, why can’t he love me the way I deserve to be loved? And, if he treats someone who was made for him this terribly, how would he treat someone who was all wrong?
The thought alone sends chills up and down my spine because there were others. Before me, he dated a couple of girls who didn’t last long. When I asked why they broke up, he didn’t want to talk about it. Now, I have to wonder if they went through this pain, too. Or is his love reserved only for me?
When I don’t respond to his question, mostly because I didn’t hear it, Brooks kneels inside the van and reaches for my arm. I turn as far away from him as I can, not wanting a single one of his fingers to find my skin.
“Please, Andi. You’re bright red, and you’re sweating. Come inside with me.”
“We can talk right here.”
At least while it’s light out and there’s a chan
ce someone else could see us, he won’t kill me. Inside, there’s no telling what he’s capable of. Behind closed doors, he has no filter. No remorse. And nothing stops him until he’s finished.
“At least sit next to me, so you can get some fresh air. You don’t look good.”
Whether it’s a ploy or not, I move closer to Brooks because I’m so hot, I can’t stand it. The second he sees me giving an inch, he takes a mile. He pulls me by the waist, and I fight against him, thinking he’s going to throw me over his shoulder and take me inside. But he lets go as soon as I’m positioned with my legs dangling from the side of the van.
“I hate when you panic,” he says as soon as I’m situated. “You’re afraid of me.”
It’s not his heart I’m afraid of—black or not. I’m afraid of his mind and the way he can shut his feelings off in the blink of an eye. The way he can so easily morph into some person I can’t connect with. Someone with the need to hurt me and the desire to enjoy it as it happens.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask him.
His eyes narrow, like he can’t figure out why I’m in a hurry for him to show me his worst. “I don’t like hurting you, Andi.”
You could have fooled me.
“Then, why do you do it?”
Before I read too much into his reaction, he looks away from me. “I love you.”
He loves me, so he hits me.
He hits me because he loves me.
No matter which way I spell it out, it doesn’t change the outcome. Love doesn’t equal bruises. No person in their right mind associates pain with love. That’s how I know Brooks’s issues lie deeper than me and anything I can fix. His demons are lodged deep within his twisted DNA.
“It wasn’t always like this, Andi. We were good together. Really fucking good.”
I clutch my knees to my chest, wishing it had never gotten bad. Wishing I never had to find out what it felt like to be backhanded across the cheek, to have hair pulled from my scalp, or to be thrown onto the floor like trash.
“And then everything changed,” I remind him. “One day, you came home and you hated me. You looked at me like you wanted to break me into as many pieces as humanly possible.”
“Despite what you think of me, I don’t like hurting you or making you cry, Andi. I’ll do better.”
“Why would I leave with you? So, we can go back to New York, and you can throw me around some more? Do permanent damage?”
He looks away from me and then back with a pained expression. “That’s not what I want. I don’t want to be that guy anymore.”
“Brooks, I forget things. I have moments where I can’t remember what day it is until I look at a calendar for proof. I have flashbacks, dreams that haunt me whether I’m awake or asleep. And do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up on a cold floor and have no recollection of how you got there, only who put you there?”
“I’m sorry,” he snaps. “But I’m fucked up, too, Andi. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. All I can do is think about you and how much I miss you.”
Missing me shouldn’t make him want to hurt me. It should make him want to cherish me and change his ways. Because, now that he knows what it’s like to be without me, he should want to be different.
He doesn’t.
Monsters are monsters until the day they die. The second he put his hands on me, I should have walked away. I can’t make that mistake again. He’s already gotten too many free passes.
“I know you still love me,” he says with so much hope I almost laugh.
Would he love me if I broke him down every chance I got? Probably not.
“Why am I so hard to love, Brooks? Why is it easier to hate me?”
He reaches for my face, but I turn my head before he can stroke my cheek. His touch isn’t welcome. The only person I want to feel is Adrian. His touch matters. It grounds me, saves me from the darkness. And it gives me hope.
“I see the way other people look at you. That boss of yours. People on the street. Waiters at restaurants. They’re drawn to you the same way I was when we first met. An hour with you is never enough, Andi. They always want more.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“Because, eventually, you’ll start wanting more, too. More of them and less of me.”
His logic is borderline insanity. I’ve never cheated on him. Never once given him any reason to suspect I didn’t want to be with him. When he asked me to move in, I jumped at the opportunity. I tried with every ounce of who I was to be everything he needed.
“You were always enough for me, Brooks. Even when you were at your worst, I found reasons to love you. I thought, if I tried harder and if I loved you more, you’d stop hitting me. That, if I made life easier for you, you wouldn’t be so stressed out and unhappy. But it never worked. Nothing I did stopped you or slowed you down. You only got worse.”
I see the indecision in his expression and the urgency pouring off of him. He doesn’t like being told no or that he can’t have what he wants.
Usually, I can tell when he’s about to snap. But, when it happens, Brooks still manages to choose a moment I don’t see coming. Before I can react, his hand is around my throat, pulling me out of the van and into the cheap motel room behind door number 113A.
The musty air smells like mold, and the hum of the air conditioner is so unnerving, I’d rather hear nails on a chalkboard. Everything about this place screams, The end.
We’re here because it’s off the beaten path, deserted and far enough away from downtown Miami that Adrian wouldn’t be able to find me, no matter how hard he tried.
“I knew you were lying,” I whisper as tears well in my eyes.
His grip is tight, and though he’s not cutting off my air supply, the warning is still there. With one tiny adjustment, he could take away my oxygen, killing me on a dirty mattress with a half-eaten sandwich sitting on the table, already attracting the flies.
Closing my eyes, I do my best to block it all out. Instead of focusing on where I am, I think about Adrian carrying me in his arms, gently placing me in the middle of our bed. The scratchy blanket I’m lying on is replaced with our down duvet. Surrounded by pillows and expensive thread counts, I’m back in Adrian’s arms where I belong.
I’m not scared.
I’m smiling.
And I never have to open my eyes again—not unless I want to.
Clay
“He disappeared,” Russell says as he opens his front door to let me in.
“What the fuck do you mean?” I follow him into his office.
Before he sits, he pulls a second chair over to his desk. “I mean, if Brooks doesn’t turn his phone back on or use one of his credit cards, we won’t be able to track him.”
I don’t sit in the chair he offers me. Sitting is for people who have time. We ran out of time the second Andi was taken. So, I pace. “There has to be another option.”
He clicks the mouse, and three monitors turn on. Next to the outer screens are several external hard drives and a few small dark-colored machines that are far too advanced for my knowledge. This isn’t an office inside his apartment. This is a fucking command center.
Russell points to the monitor on the left. “This one is tracking his cell phone. As he moves, he’ll pick up the closest tower to wherever he is, and that’s how we’ll know his location. It won’t be exact but within a few miles.”
“How the hell am I going to find her then?”
“He needs to talk on his cell phone. An incoming or outgoing call—it doesn’t matter. I just need about thirty seconds, and I can get his exact address.”
I stare at the screen on the left. The green dot blinks in the same spot, hovering above text that says Tower #5497327. That number means nothing to me.
“I don’t get it. You said he disappeared.” I point at the green dot. “But isn’t he right there?”
“It’s a stale connection. His phone is turned off.”
I stand behind his chair a
nd run my hands through my hair. I tug so goddamn hard, I can feel a headache start to come on. “So, we’re fucked. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Until he turns his phone on, pretty much. Unless…” He points at the monitor in the middle. “This is tracking his credit usage. If he swipes one of his cards or uses his social security number in any way, it will show up here. Immediately.”
I nod toward the monitor on the right. “And what about that one?”
“It’s an active police log for all the counties in the state.”
“I’m not following.”
“If any bodies are found, they’ll be reported here.”
Andi’s body.
Dead.
Because Brooks killed her.
“Oh, fuck, no.” I pace again, releasing my hair so that I can gnash my hands together. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve lost all control. That part, I can handle. But feeling this helpless…I can’t handle. “So, what do we do? How do we save her?” I know his answer already, but I refuse to believe he hasn’t thought of something else.
“We just have to wait it out.”
I grit my teeth. “You’re talking about my girlfriend. I can’t just wait it out. I’m about to lose my shit.”
“I know. But you’re going to have to try something—beer, weed, whatever will keep you calm—because there’s nothing we can do until something pops up on one of those screens.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I don’t believe that.”
I need to think.
I’m sure Brooks is moving her out of Miami. He won’t take a taxi or any kind of public transportation. Not when he’s hauling someone against her will.
“What about one of the tollbooths?” I ask. “Don’t they take pictures of all the license plates that go through—”
“There aren’t any cars registered under Brooks’s name. If he rented one, he paid cash because there wasn’t a rental charge on his credit card.”
“How about a security camera? Shouldn’t there be one by the beach that could show us what kind of car he’s driving?”
“I checked the feed after I spoke to you. He must have been parked in a gap between cameras.”