Black Bounds

by Charlotte Byrd

  But it’s a rather good one. I change very little except for punctuation and typos. The words have come out just as they had existed as thoughts in my head.

  If you aren’t a writer, you might not know, but that’s quite a rare thing. Most of the time, you just have a vague idea of where you are headed, but no real way of getting there.

  I smile as I save the document on my computer. I’m proud of it because I know it’s perfect for what it is - the first draft of the story.

  The story isn’t complete, nowhere close to it, but it’s perfect as what it is.

  Chapter 6 - Ellie

  When I take an early morning walk…

  I close the laptop and stretch my arms around and behind me. My back cracks as I move my head from side to side.

  Wow.

  I’m pretty sore.

  I have been stuck in a stationary position for quite a while and all the joints in my body feel like they need extra fluids to lubricate them. I haven't worked this hard and focused this intensely for what seems like forever. Even my face feels tense. I rub my temples and stretch out every limb in my body. I feel excitement pulsing through my veins. When I glance at myself in the mirror, I see a wide, broad smile stretching across my whole face. I’m even smiling with my eyes.

  I peek outside, past the blinds and the curtains. The sun is barely up. Only the idea of morning exists as a sliver of yellow somewhere over the horizon. A part of me wants to rush over to Aiden, wake him up, and tell him about everything that I have just accomplished. I can’t just keep this to myself. I feel like it's bursting out of me. But when I glance over at him, I see how peaceful he’s sleeping, even snoring a little bit every third breath, and I don’t have the heart to wake him up. No, this can wait. He needs his rest. All the emotional upheaval over Owl, and Robert Warrenhouse coming in last minute and saving the company from total collapse must have taken a toll on him. All the stress and lines around his face have straightened out. All the tension that has been sitting somewhere between his eyebrows has dissipated.

  I pace around the room trying to think of something to do. I thought that writing would put my mind at ease and calm me down, but I’m still riding a high. I feel like I drank four cups of coffee, even though I haven’t had any caffeine since yesterday morning.

  So, I decide to take a walk. I see little white flurries hit against the windows and decide that I definitely need boots and a coat. A hat and a scarf will also not hurt anyone. I’ve always been quite a wimp when it comes to the cold. I don't know if it’s my body temperature being naturally cooler than other people’s, or my slow metabolism, but I’m always cold. Even in the summer. I always need at least two more layers than other people just to stay warm, and running in place or doing some exercises doesn’t help much. I just get sweaty and then I’m even colder than before.

  I slip my feet into a thick pair of my favorite Uggs and relish how comfortable they feel. They aren’t the most attractive boots, but they are perfect for an early morning walk around the property. Then I put on a thin, long-sleeved sweater and wrap my favorite pale pink scarf around my neck. After I put on a hat and my jacket, I’m ready to brave the cold. But before I step outside, I run over to the computer again. In all the excitement, I had completely forgotten to check on my sales and book downloads. I’m not expecting much, but every sale is a small victory. I’m still in shock that anyone is interested in the story that I have to tell, let alone are paying me to tell it.

  When the Amazon dashboard finally loads, I almost scream out in excitement. Fifty three sales! Oh my God! No, this can’t be right. I reload the page, but there it is. The sales are legit and now there are fifty four sales. In addition, I also have five thousand page reads! I shake my head, unwilling to believe my own eyes. Is this really happening? I mean, am I really making money being a writer? Is this what it feels like to live your dream?

  I can’t contain my excitement much longer and decide to step outside before I wake up Aiden. When I get out to the porch, I let the burst of cold air wash over me. I inhale deeply and savor the smell of the salt water. The ocean is less than a hundred feet away and I stand on the steps of the cottage, watching its slow and mesmerizing waves crash against the beach. Finally, my anxiety and excitement is starting to subside. I’m still riding a high, but the sight of water has always had a calming effect on me.

  I walk down the path and toward the main house. I don’t have a destination in mind; it just feels good to walk. Most of the cars that were parked out front are gone, along with the valet people. There are some party favors and empty cans and cups scattered out on the front lawn. Wow, people can be very disrespectful. The Warrenhouses put on this awesome party that must’ve cost them a fortune, and the guests still don’t bother to clean up after themselves. Even in the mildest, smallest way. I toss all the trash that I pick up into the empty garbage pails near the porch. I consider heading into the house, but don’t want to disturb anyone just in case they are sleeping already.

  A strong gust of wind rushes through me and I zip the jacket tighter to keep some of the cold out. I bury my hands in my pockets and find my phone. Oh, yes, of course! I completely forgot about it. I won’t lie. I’m kind of a phone addict. I’m usually on my phone most of the day. If I’m not talking on it, I’m texting or checking my emails, or wasting time on Facebook and Instagram. But somehow, I have completely forgotten about it for close to twelve hours. Very impressive, Ellie, I say to myself.

  But as soon as I look at the screen, my pride vanishes immediately. I have four missed calls from Caroline and another ten texts. Shit, I say to myself. I scroll through her texts and listen to her messages. Caroline isn’t big on leaving voice mails, so I know that this is important.

  What could she want? I wonder. Her first texts came in around one in the morning and the rest came soon after. Then suddenly, nothing. Crickets. Maybe she wanted a ride home. Maybe something happened with her date? What was his name? My mind is running in circles. She came here with the guy she met at the auction on Aiden’s yacht. She has seen him a number of times before, and he has even been to our house. But that doesn’t mean that he’s completely trustworthy, does it? I mean, what do we really know about him except that he has a lot of money and is willing to spend almost a hundred grand for a one night stand? I can’t remember exactly how much Caroline got, but it was enough to pique her interest. Besides, she wasn’t really supposed to see him after the auction, but he made an impression. He asked her out once they were both back in the city. He was genuinely interested in her. At least, it seemed that way.

  Chapter 7 - Ellie

  When I try to find Caroline…

  I walk around the property, feverishly texting her. I don’t bother to wait for her to answer and call her as well. But no one responds. The call goes directly to voice mail and the text goes unread. Caroline is never without her phone. This isn’t good, I say to myself. But then I realize that there may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for her not answering as well. I mean, I’m as much of a phone addict as she is and my phone was just in my jacket while I was busy with Aiden. And then, of course, there’s sleep. She always turns her phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ once she goes to bed. Otherwise, she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. All the notifications would drive her completely nuts.

  Meandering through the meticulously manicured foot paths around the back of the Warrenhouse mansion, I come up on one cottage upon another. The one that Aiden and I are staying in is just one of the many guesthouses that exist on the property. Caroline must be staying in one of these. But, which one? Each one has a little white picket fence out front with rose bushes. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, making the space out here look like an enchanted forest. The Warrenhouses must spend a fortune on gardeners to make everything look so shabby chic. The plants, bushes, and trees are just overgrown enough to give the illusion of a quaint English garden. It’s perfect, but not too perfect. If I weren’t so focused on finding out if Caroline
is okay, I would love to lose myself in this world.

  Meandering past the guesthouses, I notice that there are cars parked out back, just outside the main garden areas. They are tucked out of sight and out of mind, as if they are keeping the twenty-first century at bay. I try to remember which car Caroline took to get here. I’m pretty sure that her date rented a car, but what kind? I walk past a Bentley, a brand new Tesla, and a couple of other name brand cars that I know cost a fortune but not exactly how much.

  Once I reach the edge of the guesthouses, I shrug and turn around. I feel like crying because I’m at a complete loss as to how to go about finding Caroline. Or whether I even should. I mean, it’s barely morning and the last thing I want to do is barge in on her sleeping and create a scene. Or even worse - what if I were to barge in on a couple of complete strangers? No, I guess I should just make my way back to Aiden and just wait until it’s a more reasonable hour before finding her.

  I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. Just because she called you earlier, doesn’t mean anything. I mean, she didn’t come around looking for you. Everything is probably fine. I mean, when is it not? I know that bad things happen out there, but that doesn’t mean that they’re going to happen here in this multimillion dollar mansion overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I’m just overthinking things. I’m riding a high from having one of the best orgasms of my life, and then seeing that all those people have downloaded my book, and having an awesome writing session. That’s why I can’t quiet my mind down. It has nothing to do with Caroline. Yes, of course.

  I’m not always successful in talking myself down, but this morning I surprise myself. In addition to calming my erratic thoughts with soothing thoughts, I also do a breathing exercise that I learned in yoga class. I close one nostril and take a big breath in. Then I open it, pinch my other nostril and breathe out through the other one. This focuses my breathing and I feel myself taking in air further into my stomach instead of just into my lungs. Okay, okay, I say to myself. Everything’s going to be fine. There’s nothing to worry about. Just go back to Aiden and try to get some sleep.

  I make my way down the now familiar path back to our cottage at the very end. But just as I walk past the one with the bright blue door, I hear a familiar voice. I can’t make out what he’s saying. It sounds more like grunting. Moaning, maybe. I furrow my brows and stop in my tracks. What could that be? I walk over to the window on my tiptoes to take a peek inside. I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to myself just in case the people inside are having a good time.

  Luckily, the blinds and the curtains are wide open. I stand really close to the glass and cover my face to block out some of the gray light coming from the outside. Oh my God, I whisper to myself when I see the guy’s back to me. He’s stark naked except for a pair of black socks and he’s having sex with someone who is lying on the bed. I can’t see his face or the woman’s face, but I can tell that it’s a woman because she’s still wearing her high heels and her legs are listlessly open to either side of him.

  The guy looks familiar, but with him facing away from me, I can’t really place him. He must be someone I met at the party since he’s staying at a cottage on the Warrenhouse property, but who he is exactly I don't know. Still, I get the sense that I know him. I look at his dark hair and his shoulders. He’s relatively thin but muscular as well. Strong.

  I watch, feeling very much like the creep that I am. But something is holding me by the window. And it’s not anything good. There’s something about the girl that doesn’t look right. Her legs are spread open before him. He’s holding one of them up by his shoulders and the other one is laying bent to the side. But it’s the way it’s bent. As he continues to come in and out of her, she’s barely responding. No, she isn't responding at all. Something feels very wrong about this.

  Suddenly, the guy tilts his head back and gives out a big moan. Then he speeds up his tempo. And yet the girl continues to lie there, without much of a response. I glare over to the other side of the door. There’s another window there. Maybe it will give me a better angle on what’s going on.

  Not wanting to look away, but having the urge to get to the bottom of this situation, and to find out if the girl is actually okay, I push myself off the window sill and walk over to the other window. The blinds are down on this one, but they aren’t entirely shut. Again, I cover my face and peer in.

  My heart drops. At first, I don't believe what I see. This can’t be him. No. Can it? I look closer. I can see his profile. No, I’m not wrong. It’s Tom.

  Chapter 8 - Ellie

  When I find out who it is…

  And the girl? It doesn’t look like Carrie. No, not at all. She’s shorter and her face. I can’t quite make out her face but that body is not Carrie’s. I take a deep breath and look closer. Tom’s body is not blocking her from view entirely as before. Now, it’s perfectly clear that she is completely passed out. Her body is limp. Unresponsive.

  No, no, no. Whoever this is, she looks dead. Or at least, asleep. I have no idea who she is, but one thing is for sure. She’s definitely not giving her consent.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, I hop over to the front door and turn the handle. It swings right open. Tom doesn’t notice me at first. He continues to make those sickening sounds of pleasure and pump away, holding the girl’s legs in the air.

  Suddenly, I start to have doubts. What if she is consenting? I mean, I consented to being tied up. Maybe if someone had spied on me and Aiden through the window, they would also think that he was abusing me. But it’s too late for any of those thoughts now. I’m here, standing in the doorway. And I have to find out what’s happening.

  “What are you doing?” I ask loudly. Tom stops in mid-action and turns his head to look at me. Once he sees me, he drops the girl’s legs and pulls out. A part of me expects the girl to sit up on her elbows and tell me to get the fuck out, but she doesn’t. Instead, what I see is the grave expression on Tom’s face. He looks terrified. His eyes shift from side to side, trying to figure out what to say and do.

  “Tom, what the fuck?” I ask. No, my initial response to this was correct. Something is off here. I step inside the cottage and walk over closer to the bed. That’s when it hits me. The girl on the bed is completely passed out. Unresponsive. Tom grabs his pants and starts to get dressed haphazardly. He puts one foot into the pants, hops around, and almost slips.

  Suddenly, everything starts to move in slow motion. I walk over to the girl and my ears start to buzz. Is this really her? My heart starts to beat so fast it feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. I try to inhale, but my chest seizes up.

  “What are you doing?” I ask over and over as I drape myself over the girl on the bed. No, it can’t be her. It just can’t. She’s completely nude from the top down, and her dress is pushed up to her waist. I grab her by the shoulders and start to shake her as fast as I can.

  “Caroline, Caroline. Wake up, Caroline!”

  “She just fell asleep,” Tom says somewhere behind me. “She was totally into it before.”

  I hear him talking, but I’m not entirely processing everything that he’s saying. My only focus now is to wake her up. She has to be okay. I have to make her okay.

  But no matter how much I shake her, she doesn’t respond. No, no, no. Hot tears are streaming out of my eyes. I can’t see anything more than a few inches in front of my face.

  “Wake up, Caroline,” I say over and over. A few of my tears run into my mouth and I choke on them. I cough and wipe my eyes.

  I take a deep breath and try to figure out what to do. Then I reach for her neck. I press my fingers to her artery. Please, please, please. Please, let there be a heartbeat. And then I feel it. It’s faint, but it’s there. Oh my God. Okay, okay, I say to myself. I kneel down and press my head to her lips. Please, breathe on me, Caroline, I say to myself silently as I wait.

  Somewhere behind me, Tom is saying something. He’s rushing around the room. He’s frea
king out, but I can’t pay attention to him at all. It’s almost like nothing else exists except for this moment right now. And then, suddenly, she breathes. I clearly feel her breathe in and out, and I exhale deeply myself. Okay, at least she’s alive. Despite anything else that happened.

  Still, she’s unresponsive. So, I need to act fast. I bury my hands in my jacket and pull out my phone. My hands are shaking so violently, I can barely make out the numbers. Luckily, there are only three. 911.

  “What’s your emergency?” a woman asks on the other end.

  “What are you doing?” Tom asks, grabbing the phone out of my hand. I stare at him.

  “Give me that phone. Caroline is passed out!” I yell loudly. He hasn’t hung up yet and I need to get the message out to the 911 dispatcher.

  “No, she’s just sleeping.”

  “You were having sex with her. She’s completely unresponsive. And you were having sex with her, Tom. Give me that phone.”

  “No,” he says and hangs up. Then he puts my phone in his pocket and glares at me. Shit. Cold sweat courses through my veins. It suddenly occurs to me exactly the kind of vulnerable situation that I’m in. I’m alone in this room with him. Caroline is passed out. I had just caught him doing something to her that he has no right to. And he has taken away my phone. He’s growing desperate and desperation is never a good quality in men. That’s when violence comes about.

  “What are you doing, Ellie? You’re going to call the cops on me? I’m your friend.”

  “I know that,” I say slowly. “You are. But we need to get her help. I don't know why she’s not responding, Tom. Maybe she had too much to drink. But I think she needs medical help. That’s the whole reason I was calling them.”