She whirled around and started out the bedroom door. He went after her. He grabbed her elbow and turned her to face him. “Is that what this is about? I left because of the first reason you said. You are barely well, Jessie. It’s been all of three years since those things stopped happening to you. You know why I left you. I thought I’d do nothing but remind you of it. I thought all this, being here and still a soldier would do nothing, but send you reeling back to the emotional wreck I brought home from Mexico. Forgive me if I didn’t want that. Not for you. Not for my wife. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, which is how I often found you.”
“Well, now I’m not acting like that, am I? I proved you wrong.”
He stepped back, stunned. “That’s why you’ve been acting like this? You think you have to act a certain way so I won’t leave?”
She shrugged and shoved her hair behind her ear. “No. I don’t think you’ll leave. I just want to make sure you see I’m not who I used to be.”
“You’re angry with me. You can be angry. I deserve it. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around here or with me.”
“I thought you wanted me acting okay.”
“I want you to be okay and act natural. At this point, I’ll take you acting however, as long as it’s real. No one can sustain the level of perfection you’re trying to create here. But if you’re not okay, then I want to know, Jessie. I want to deal with whatever is real. Not this fake bullshit.”
“Funny. You usually leave when it gets real. I guess I was trying to make sure you didn’t have any reason to leave again.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, and backed up until his legs hit his chair, which he flopped into. “I told you, you were mad at me. I guess I deserved this. Fine, Jessie have your say. Or keep acting like a Stepford Wife on steroids. Just let me know when you’re done. I can’t change anything. Not what happened to you. Or how I reacted. I can’t change doing what I thought was in your best interest. If I was wrong, I’m sorry. But it seemed the right thing to do back then. It’s not like there was ever a damn road map to tell me how to navigate the emotional quagmire I found in you from day one.”
“You mean since you found me naked and chained to the wall?”
He shut his eyes at the images her angry words evoked. She wasn’t reliving them. She was flinging them at him in anger. Finally, he whispered. “Yes, since I found you. Only that wasn’t the first time I saw you. You forget sometimes, I think, that your emotional baggage, is mine too.”
She stilled and her entire body quit moving. Silence hung thick and heavy between them, like a physical thing that entered their apartment and blocked them. She finally let out a long, deep, body-releasing sigh and shook her head. “What am I doing? Why am I yelling at you?”
He rubbed his hand in his hair and stared at the floor in front of him. “Because you’re that angry at me. You’re angry I didn’t really save you. You’re angry I left you to Lindsey and Gretchen. You’re angry I left you in Washington state. You’re angry your father died, and he wasn’t your real father, and he paid men to do terrible things to you. You’re angry your life was ruined before you even got to live it. And the thing is: you have every right to be. I should have left you alone tonight. I’m sorry. I just want you to feel like you can be yourself with me and I won’t leave or get mad or do anything anymore. But I don’t have the right to do that to you.”
She came over and dropped to the floor in front of him, taking his hands in hers. “I don’t have every right to be angry at you. I mean sometimes, I guess, I am. In the moments when I simplify everything, and don’t go where the reality of our situation really is. You were technically right in everything you did.”
“But being right technically doesn’t make you feel better.”
“No, sometimes getting angry does.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes, there is anger there.”
“Except I think we love each other too much to stick with what we should have done. We should have separated and not been together. But you said it yourself, who cares how we started? It’s where we take it now. It’s us not letting it define us. And I have been acting weird. I worry so much you’ll decide this is all a mistake. I don’t think I could take you ever leaving me again.”
He pulled on her hands so she had to get up before setting her into his lap. He sighed as he kissed her head. “I deserve the distrust. I’m not leaving. I promise. I just didn’t want you feeling like you had to create the strange perfection your mother provided Fuck-face. I’m not that guy. I don’t want perfection. I just want you. I don’t want you living in a holding pattern with me. Here or gone, I am with you. I am here no matter what. You don’t have to create a kind of fake utopia. Let’s just be us.”
“I barely know who I am. How do I get to know us and trust it?”
He shrugged. “Maybe time. Maybe time will show us.”
Time… she still was not used to it. She still could not seem comprehend that he was not leaving her. He deserved the mistrust. He just wondered how long before she’d start to trust him again. She finally smiled. “Okay, I’ll try to get back to being more… normal. Well as much as I ever was. And if you complain, I’ll point out that you asked for it.”
He finally chuckled. “Okay, that sounds like a deal.”
Chapter Six
It was better for a few weeks. Jessie started to ease up on the fake smiles and fake conversations. She quit being quite so perfect looking, acting and cooking. She was bored. He knew she was deathly bored and restless in the apartment. But they both agreed for now, she should not seek work or outside distractions; only because they didn’t want her to get spotted and hounded by the media. Slowly, the media was turning away from the story of General Bains. Soon, hopefully, they would completely forget about it and Jessie could then find something to do and start a real life for herself. In the mean time, she was home and he was left trying extra hard to make up for the fact that he had pulled her from a job and life she loved. The guilt was thick in his heart. She was content in Ellensburg. She was probably better off even. But he couldn’t let her go back there without him. He’d never again willing let her go. So for now, they had to deal with boredom and the difficulty of a situation that once again, was not really their doing.
Then, Will came home one evening and it was all different. He opened the front door and the apartment was gloomy. The drapes were all shut. The kitchen was empty and bare; no dinner. No table strangely set for a formal dinner for two. No pretty smells, or soft background music.
Putting his stuff down in the hallway, his stomach cramped with dread. Where was she? What happened?
He stepped through the living room. The bedroom door was shut. He tried to open it, but it was locked. Locked? It hadn’t been locked since she came back. Not like the old days. He twisted the knob. “Jessie?”
Nothing. No answer. No stirring. He waited half a second before swiftly popping the locks and stepping inside.
She was in the bed and his heart plummeted to his stomach.
He turned and glanced in the bathroom. It was empty, clean, no blood. No bloody towels. No razors on the floor. He let out a breath.
Stepping to the side of the bed, he squatted down. She was a small, pathetic lump under the covers. It was warm in there. Didn’t she feel it? He touched her shoulder. “Jessie, honey? Are you sick?”
He wished. He wished she was simply sick with the flu and napping to get through the day like most people would be if found like that. But he knew deep in his gut it wasn’t the flu.
He gently tugged the covers back. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Not a perfect outfit. Her hair was ratted around her face, and she lay on her side.
Her voice sounded foggy and low when she muttered, “Go away.”
He rubbed his hand from her shoulder to her elbow. “What happened, babe? Will you tell me?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Jess?” He contemplated her back as he touched
her shoulder.
She jerked from his touch and groaned before suddenly sitting up and flinging his arm away from her. Her eyes flashed as she screamed at him, “Just leave me alone! I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want to have sex! I just want to be left alone. Okay? Could you do that? Just leave me alone?”
He sat back on his heels. The color in her face was off and she was pale and chalky. He remained quiet until finally, she lifted her eyes to his. They stared at each other for a long moment and her shoulders suddenly folded over. “Just leave me alone, Will. Please?”
His hand itched to touch her, grab her, hug her, hold her, to do something for her. Anything. But instead, he held his hands up as if surrendering and got on his feet. He crossed the room, and shut the door softly behind him before leaning back against it. What? What happened? What could have set her off?
With a sigh, he wandered into the kitchen, rifling through his now fully stocked cabinets. There were a number of choices for things to eat, but nothing appealed. He finally slammed the doors shut too hard and stared at the TV after yanking the shades open. Then he gave up, grabbing his keys before leaving to do something that didn’t include climbing the walls. He ended up lifting weights for over an hour, until he was bathed in sweat, which almost relieved some of his feelings of helplessness. He imagined what a guy who was stricken impotent would feel like. He could not help his wife sometimes. He couldn’t understand her or comfort her. It was a hard, bitter pill to swallow for Will.
Driving through a burger joint, he grabbed some fast food to alleviate the hunger that was growling in his stomach. When he got home, nothing was different. A slight flow of adrenaline as he unlocked the front door came from hoping she’d be up. Or that it would appear like she had been. Instead, it was dark.
He sighed, and finally lay his head on the couch pillow as he flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His legs hung off the end. He spent a lot of time sleeping there before. Now, however, it felt a lot worse than it did three years ago. What was wrong with her?
Well, shit. He knew what was wrong with her. He knew it was some variation of her history. So it wasn’t like he didn’t know. He just didn’t know which aspect of it happened today. He tossed and turned for two hours. It was well past midnight before he finally dozed off and found himself back in the place where he often had to pry Jessie from.
Mexico.
His mission was simple. Get into the building, find the general’s daughter and get her out. The fewer that knew he was there, the better. He slipped into the building completely undetected. It wasn’t a sophisticated operation at all. There weren’t even basic security cameras to disable. That made getting the girl out easier because there were no cameras to avoid. He slipped into the rafters of the warehouse. The ductwork was extensive and suspended from the open-air ceiling in half the enclosure. He could easily find a comfortable spot to scout things out without anyone knowing he was even there. So he did just that.
At first, it was men moving about. Some kind of shipment arrived. The gigantic metal doors lifted, an unmarked van slipped in and men quickly unloaded its crates. They were stacked in the corner with other similar goods. He had no doubt they were drugs. What the fuck drug dealers were doing with a general’s daughter was still lost on Will. Why? He couldn’t figure out why they would bother. But if the general didn’t seem to think it mattered for Will to know, he guessed it really didn’t matter.
He simply watched them. It was so fucking easy, he almost nodded off to sleep once. He was so well hidden, he didn’t see how anyone would ever suspect he was there.
And then, they brought her in.
He first glimpsed his quarry from a hundred feet above her. She was blindfolded and her hands were tied behind her back. She was naked and her feet were bare. He drew in a sharp breath. Not his usual mission. His hands gripped his gun tighter, and he had to concentrate and tell himself to lighten up on the weapon. Last thing he needed was to shoot it off without warning. But holy fuck! What were they going to do to her? He leaned down onto his knee and finally looked down again. She was crying, and he saw the tears fall off her face. They led her to an area of the warehouse where their offices seemed to be located. The man was anonymously hooded. Why? Not like the pathetic, small, crying girl could do anything to get away from them. She started to resist more, the closer they got to the office area. She seemed to dig her heels in. She twisted her body and shook her head. Her cries became louder and she yelled, “No. No. Please, no!” several times.
They laughed. The man pulled her mercilessly behind him and two emerged from the offices. The captor pushed her onto her knees. He forcibly shoved her back, grabbing her hands and securing her to ropes that were dangling from the exposed pipe that ran the length of the warehouse. Another took her thrashing legs and bound them to the other end, which was creepier still as the ties were bolted onto the cement floor.
They had fucking done this before! That knowledge hit Will hard. They had done this to women before; and he gathered, from the swift way they operated, none of it was new to any of them. There was no hesitation. It was quick, awful, and with almost production line sterility. She pulled hard against the restraints until the captor simply set a knife to the fragile part of the girl’s neck. She stopped. Dead still now, she whimpered.
Will glanced around, and, for the first time ever, nearly panicked. Shit. Fuck. He had to do something. There were a dozen or more men working around the place. Half of them didn’t even glance at what was taking place in the corner. They simply didn’t care. They were busy moving merchandise around. Some were repackaging it to smuggle wherever. He stared hard at his hands as the sweat dripped off his forehead. His heart raced, and his breathing turned broken and rapid.
He should have unpinned a grenade and blown up the whole fucking building and all of them inside it. It seemed almost a better solution than seeing what he was about to watch. But killing her with them didn’t accomplish much for her. He scoped out the place. He could quite possibly kill a few of them before they realized he was there. But once they did, he was as vulnerable as a newborn bird in a nest for them. They’d simply pick him off. FUCK. His only means of escaping death was the element of surprise. That meant he had to witness the rape and torture of the girl below him. He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth and finally glanced back down. The man whom he suspected ran the cell of drug traffickers, or sex-trafficking ring, or whatever these putrid, vile fuckers were doing, finally knelt between the girl’s legs, and shoved his hand into her.
Will heard her scream. He felt it down in his gut. His heart. His soul. He heard her screams and her cries and knew he’d carry them with him until the day he died. He looked one time before finally turning his back and leaning against the wall, trying to let the edge of the metal cool his inflamed skin. He leaned off to the side and heaved when bile and acid rushed up his throat and spewed out. He puked all over the fucking HVAC system before he finally lifted his fingers to his ears and pressed as hard as he could, like a goddamned baby, afraid of the dark.
But he couldn’t watch it. Or listen to her. He could not save her. Not now. Not from this.
He was responsible for what happened to the girl below him. He did not save her. It was his fault.
Will woke up with a start. His breathing hurt and his heart was racing in his chest. Fuck. He hadn’t dreamed about it for a while. And hadn’t relived it in a few months. Not since they were back together. It happened more often than he liked. More often than he ever told Jessie. But when it did, he had to resist the urge to take his fist and shove it into the wall. It was times like that when he understood more fully why Jessie hurt herself like she used to do.
His anxiety was sharp and harsh. That quickly, all the things that used to keep him apart from her reared their ugly, awful head. The reason he tried so hard, and for so long to get away from her. He sometimes couldn’t face her. He sat up and held his head in his hands. Fuck. Their life had never been easy. And it
never would be.
How could he accomplish the important missions he was assigned, but couldn’t fucking kill the men who continued to torture him and his wife? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right that he didn’t finish his job. The one that started the day he found Jessie.
He ran his hands through his hair. Sometimes, that was all he could think about and plan: what he’d do if he ever got his capable, skilled, soldier hands on all of them.
****
“Will?” she whispered.
It was still night and her whisper woke him up. He was barely back asleep. She crawled on top of him.
Snuggling against his chest and the couch, she kissed his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I was so mean to you.”
He shook his head to wake up. Grit felt heavy on his eyelids. His mouth tasted like someone had thrown battery acid in it. He ran a hand through his hair and finally cracked an eye open. Her brown eyes were big and in earnest. She was back in her head. His Jessie was back. He sighed and ran his hand into her silky, shiny hair.
“What happened?”
She shook her head before leaning it down on his chest, and hiding her eyes from his. “I just had a bad day.”
The Years Between (Sister Series, 1.5) Page 8