by Kim Faulks
I heard him…heard the echo in this room, felt the burn in my lungs, felt my feet leave the floor as he yanked and pulled. I couldn’t feel his hands now, couldn’t feel anything but the wave of agony down to the marrow of my bones.
“I got you,” he murmured in my ear and it was all I could do to nod.
I hated him. I hurt him. I kept him down here, chained like an animal.
And yet he was here…he was here…
Darkness blurred as he shoved me through the doorway and into the soft, murky light. I blinked with the splatter and lifted my head to the shattered window.
“I’m going to lift you,” he murmured, and then stilled.
Warm fingers caressed my cheek as he gripped my jaw and slowly turned my face toward him. Faded gray light danced across his skin and dwelled on the dark circles under his eyes. “Did you hear me? I’m going to lift you up. I need you to grip onto the frame and pull yourself out. Can you do that?”
I couldn’t nod, only stare into the endless well of his gaze. I could’ve drowned…could’ve died. I shuddered with the thought. Teeth gnashed, sending the savage sound through my head.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, and wrapped strong arms tight around me.
His chest was so warm…
So alive…
My breaths sawed through my chest.
In there…in the cold and the dark, I didn’t have to touch him, didn’t have to feel.
His voice I could explain away. I’d heard it before…him and…others.
Whispers in my head, an ache in my soul. They lied to me, tried to tell me things that weren’t real. They made me feel unhinged…and scared.
He dragged me closer as a warm tear slid down my cheek.
And if it was real, that meant everything that happened to me was real, too.
“P-pestilence.” His name slipped from my lips.
“Are you finally ready to listen to me?” he whispered.
I lifted my head and stared into the echo of his soul. And, for a second, I was still wading in the water—desperate for him to surface—desperate to not be alone.
And if my sanity was the price? I swallowed and then nodded.
Then that’s what I’d pay.
3
He bent low, slipping under the surface long enough to grab my knees and lift me onto his shoulder. I wobbled as he rose and then reached for the window, fingers trembling as I gripped the sill.
Glass shards pierced my palm, but I couldn’t feel the sting. I couldn’t feel anything but ache. I ducked my head low and reached one arm through the opening before I followed with the other.
The bricks wore at soft, wrinkled skin. I flattened my palms and bent my elbows before I shoved against the bricks and heaved. Tiny shards dug into the soaked clothes. I swung my legs, inching one side higher before I swung the other, until I dragged one dripping leg high enough and rolled free.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s the way.”
I could run. The thought crept into my head as I rolled and pushed, slowly climbing to hands and knees.
“You okay?”
Rain beat down on the back of my head. I knelt there, listening to the roar for a second until I gave a nod and turned my head.
“Can you help?” He reached up, fingers outstretched…waiting until I crawled closer and lifted my knee to climb to my feet.
His fingers grasped my wrist as I reached through the window and bent my knees. “On the count of three, ready?”
He gave a nod.
“One…two…three,” I jerked upwards, straining until muscles trembled and joints popped.
He gripped the sill, kicking his feet against the wall inside and trying to find a foothold. I scrambled, grabbed his shirt, and yanked. Sodden shirt climbed up, exposing pale skin criss-crossed with scars. I stilled, stared…he slipped back down, grinding on splinters of glass. “Harlow…”
“Sorry,” I dropped lower, gripping his arms, his waist, yanking and pulling until he rolled free from the building to lie at my feet.
He sucked in hard breaths, shoulders rippling under his shirt. “Thought you…thought you were going to leave.” He lifted his head to meet my gaze and then slowly climbed to his feet. “For a second.”
Brown eyes glinted. I could’ve sworn there was a challenge in his gaze until I shook my head. “I didn’t, did I?”
His lips flattened, one corner tugged high. “No, you didn’t.”
A shudder raced. I wound my arms across my middle as he scanned the mess. “Need to cover the window as best we can and then get dry.”
He gripped a wooden crate and yanked. I followed, stumbling forward, and dragged a small plastic barrel half filled with stagnant water closer. Concrete blocks were next. I bent and dragged the shattered blocks, the uneven surface harsh on tender skin.
A squeal cut from the window. I flinched at the sound, still feeling claws in my hair and bites on my thighs.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He brushed my arm, dragging my gaze back to him. “You’re out of there now. Let’s get you warm and into dry clothes.”
I let him lead me back along the alley to the side door. Darkness waited inside. I squeezed inside, sinking up to my thighs in water once more.
My stomach tightened as I scanned the dark.
“You want me to lead?”
I shook my head, and then winced. “No,” the word was a tremor. I swallowed hard and tried again. “I’ve got it.”
I waded deeper, searching for rats in the dark as I slowly climbed the first stair. A sharp bark tore through the space above, sounding levels above. “Angel!”
Her name rebounded, tearing through my head as I climbed. Fingers slipped on the steel railing, dancing and shaking. I tried to clench my fist around the steel, tried to stop the quake before it took hold. But it was too late. My knees buckled and I collapsed, but his hands were there, catching me as I fell. “I got you,” he whispered. “You’re okay now.”
He gripped my waist and bent in the dark, sliding his arms underneath my knees. There was no tremble in his body, no stumble in his steps, as he walked along the hallway, turned right, and then stopped at the door.
I reached for the knob in the dark. “I…I’m good now. I can walk.”
His hands slipped, leaving me to stand on my feet. Bones trembled, muscles quivered. I clutched the door as it swung open and stepped through into the foyer.
Angel growled and barked somewhere above. I needed her here…beside me…between us.
“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he murmured, and stepped close.
His gaze slipped to the open door in my hand and, in an instant, I was back there, gripping the cellar door as he slowly opened his eyes.
The rattle of chains echoed in my head.
Harlow…please…
It was the same look he had now. The same cruel desperation, and it wasn’t to be free…he never once looked at the door…never once made a move.
“I’d never hurt you.”
I flinched at those words. I’d heard them before…many…many times. The sting of loneliness was still there, hovering just under the surface. It clawed like the rat tangled in my hair, only this time the nails bit into my heart.
My fingers slipped, falling to my sides as I stepped through, leaving the door to swing wide. “I don’t have any chains.”
He lifted his hands, the skin of his wrists rubbed raw. “I’ll do whatever you say, be wherever you want me to be. I won’t touch you, won’t make a move toward you, unless you say. I just want to talk…I only ever wanted to talk.”
I fought the urge to step closer to make sure one more time that he was real. How else could I believe anything he had to say?
“You walk in front. I assume you still know the way.”
He gave a slow nod, then neared, easing past me and across the foyer. Angel’s bark echoed in the empty space. I glanced up as he mounted the first stair and started to climb. This wasn’t like her…since the da
y I’d locked him in the basement, she hadn’t left my side…until now.
“Angel! Come here, girl!”
Pestilence climbed, slowly and carefully, from one level to the next. She didn’t like him…didn’t trust him. One more reason I needed her now more than ever. Still, she remained above, growling and barking.
I scanned the first and then the second floor, trying to get a bead on her and couldn’t find her. “Angel, come here now!”
The savage sound ended, leaving nothing but the sound of my pulse in my ears. Step after step we climbed, until he turned from the landing to find his way to my apartment door.
There was nothing outside the door, no marks, no shoes. I’d placed old boots and dirty jackets outside apartment 4B. A diversion in case anyone broke into the building and slipped past my door.
Survival was all about timing. Timing your escape. Timing your fight.
In this world where the days were achingly long, every second counted.
I speared my fingers into my pocket and dug deep, fishing the key free and stepped close. He never spoke, never even looked my way, as I twisted the lock and shoved the door wide.
“You mind if I use the bathroom first?” He murmured and stepped inside.
“Fine.” I turned my head, searching the floors.
“She’ll come,” he spoke, and crossed the entrance and then the kitchen as he made his way toward my room. “She’s gonna get hungry sooner or later.”
I gave the floors one last glance and yelled. “You have until I’m dried and warm! Then you’re sleeping out here…alone.”
My fingers slipped from the door, leaving it ajar as I gripped the hem of my shirt and peeled the soaked fabric from my skin.
Cold stung my cheek as I made my way into my parents’ room. The stale scent was a fist to my chest. I didn’t come in here much anymore, not like I had at the beginning when the loneliness was raw.
I’d changed nothing, not the photos on the dresser, nor the wedding ring beside Mom’s side of the bed. Everything was just the same, as though the last three years of hell had never happened.
Dad’s scent wafted from the closet as I yanked, pulling the soft cotton shirt free, and then made for his sweats and a sweater. My fingers sank into the thick fabric. I lifted my hand and closed my eyes, burying my face into the familiar once more.
Water sloshed in the bathroom, dragging me from perfect memories. I walked toward the sound, leaving my parents’ room behind. My boots squealed against the floor, and my legs ached all the way to my marrow.
I set the pile of clothes on the bed and kicked my boots free, water spewed from the opening, socks soaked all the way through.
“It’s all yours,” he murmured and moved toward the hallway.
My heart sped at the sound of his voice. I glanced at the towel pulled taut around his waist and made for my closet, pulling warm fleece from the shelves.
A shudder rocked my frame, making me stumble. He lunged forward, reaching for me. I flinched with the movement, wrenching away from his touch. “Don’t…don’t touch me.”
I never looked up, never wanted to see the hurt in his eyes as I careened into the bathroom and closed the door. Quakes ripped through flesh and bone. I dumped my clothes on the edge of the sink and sank to the floor.
Tears blurred the icy tiles. I wanted to feel them, feel the sting on my skin—feel anything but the tsunami of fear inside.
I almost died…almost lost everything I had.
Almost was alone…again.
“Harlow…” his voice invaded as I dropped my hand to the floor and eased my head against the wall. “Talk to me.”
Words welled, then died like a rag had been shoved down my throat. Numb lips parted, the rush of breath the only warm thing left in me.
“Let me put some water on to boil and I’ll be back. I’ll listen to anything…just don’t shut me out.”
Steps shuffled in my bedroom. How could I say the words welling inside? Where would I start? With the demons in my head? With the fear?
I’d start with the fear. For it was all I had.
I crawled forward on hands and knees, wet socks slipping on slick tiles as I pulled myself to stand. I clenched my fist, tried to still the trembling in my fingers, and reached for the button on my jeans.
Bright red blood was stark against pale skin as I lifted my head, catching sight of my reflection. I leaned close, staring at the gash across my cheek, and shoved my zipper low.
Soaked denim stuck to my skin as I worked the jeans down and followed with my panties.
“I’m here,” he murmured from the other side of the door. “Talk to me.”
I glanced up, finding haunted eyes. Talk to me, he said.
Muscles ached with the strain as I reached around and fumbled with the clasp on my bra. I dropped my clothes into the sink and reached for the bucket of fresh water.
“You’re frightened, I get that. You don’t want to listen to me, don’t want to try to understand what I have to say.”
I reached for the soap and lathered. The wet cloth against my skin sent a shiver. I washed, and then dried, getting the filth from my tangled hair.
“I never put myself in your shoes…never thought about how this was for you. I forget…forget you’re…vulnerable.”
My hand stilled, trembling and shaking against my arm. Forget I’m vulnerable?
That was it in a nutshell, wasn’t it? That was the root of this terror I held inside. I lifted my head, staring into the dark void of my gaze.
He’d forgotten that about me, but I hadn’t forgotten about him.
I closed my eyes, still seeing that glint of green as he lifted his hand, still saw the charred, blackened mess he’d left behind—a mess that seconds before had been standing—that seconds before had been human…a man…a murderer.
Kris.
I dropped the cloth into the basin and reached for my clean clothes, stepping into dry panties and then sweats, a t-shirt, and a pullover. He wanted to talk to me, to gently remind me where I stood in the food chain.
A human. A woman.
The flare of anger lashed deep. I tugged down the sweater and made for the door. The sudden yank took him by surprise. His gaze shot upwards, dark eyes glinted like a midnight sky.
“You want me to talk? Then I’ll talk. You lied to me…you betrayed me. You manipulated me. You want me to apologize for chaining you up in the basement? You want me to say I’m sorry for not trusting a word you have to say?”
I glanced at my dad’s sweater before I returned to his gaze. It was hard to see that, hard to see that the clothes that looked so natural on Dad, look the same on someone else.
“No, I don’t want an apology. I’m trying to tell you, I understand. You want to chain me?” He lifted his hands toward me. “Chain me. Do what you need to feel safe. I only ever want you to feel safe around me, Harlow.”
“Why? Why me…why do you care about me?”
His nostrils flared, drawing in my scent with a hard breath before he answered. “Because you’re the reason I’m here. You’re the reason why all four of us are here.”
I shook my head. A nerve twitched at the corner of my eye. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want any of this.”
And with the words came a memory…a vision. Green glinted in my mind, casting shards of color into the dark, and out of the darkness came the clip-clop sound of hooves.
It knows you now.
And he’ll come.
The haunting growl filled my mind. God, whispered…God, warned.
You have to defeat them…
They are yours to conquer.
I shook my head, casting the memory aside as Pestilence lifted his hand, green sparkling on his finger. “You know the truth, Harlow. You know why we’ve come.”
I shook my head. Terror riding the line…drawing those choking words into the open. “I don’t know…I don’t know.”
Sadness shone deep in his gaze as he took one slow step toward m
e and whispered. “We came because you called.”
4
He blurred in front of me as I shook my head. “You’re lying. You’re lying. That’s what you do. You lie and you kill. I saw you, saw what you did to Kris.”
“He would’ve killed you. He would’ve ended it all…and all this,” he opened his hands, and slashed the air “would’ve been for nothing.”
I clenched trembling fingers into a fist. Nothing he said made sense…nothing he said was the truth.
“Are you going to listen this time?” he whispered. “Are you going to hear what I’m trying to tell you? I pray to God you are…I pray with everything I am, that you can put your faith in these words.”
He took one more step, closing the gap between us. I moved on reflex, stepping backwards until my heels hit the doorframe.
“Please listen to me, please hear the truth in my words. You have nothing to fear from me. I’ll never hurt you…I couldn’t, even if I tried.”
The deep growl resounded. Fear whispered, don’t listen…don’t believe a word he says…he’s not human…not real…he’s not even here.
And yet his warmth had been real. His hands had been real… “I…I need coffee, anything. I need to get warm and think.”
Yeah, I just needed to think.
He dropped his hands and gasped a deep breath. There was a second where desperation flared in his eyes, until he slowly nodded. “Coffee, food, and then we talk.”
I took a step, and then another, watching him from the corner of my eye as I headed for the kitchen. The tiny hiss of the butane canister filled the kitchen. I neared the saucepan, watching the first tiny bubbles tear away from the bottom and rise before I switched off the two-burner stove and reached for the cup.
Jars and bottles littered the counter, from coffee to tea to dehydrated packets of soup and butane cannisters. The cupboards were overflowing, canned food sat in rows on the counter, tomatoes, beans, soup, and anything else I could find. Survival had a way of changing your perspective on food, water, and shelter.
I grabbed a half-filled jar of instant coffee and heaped a teaspoonful into each of two mugs, followed with a squeeze of condensed milk.