by K. S. Kamat
****
“What do you mean, Quinton?” Maddox raised his brows in question.
“Those are Suzie’s orders.”
“Killing her wasn’t the plan.” Maddox’s blood started to boil and he was pretty sure he’d lost the remaining color of his face.
For almost eighteen years Maddox had been known as one of the ruthless men in the crime records, a thirty-three year old man, yet he laid a body count double his age. Normal teenage boys at fifteen blew off zombie brains with just a jab of a button on the little game consoles while Maddox was trained to load the real thing at the same age. He’d come a long way with the vendetta. He was so close to that revenge he’d planned all these years, but he felt nothing.
There was no laughter of triumph.
“Change of plans.” Quinn said, almost bored without any traces of the remorse for the girl. “She realized selling her would do her no good. Diego is the bastard of the worst kind. He’s not taking the bait, besides he’d care less about a daughter getting killed, much less being sold. We don’t have any use for her.”
Quinton’s eyes traveled to Maddox’s gun holster. “That’s loaded right?”
Maddox nodded as he pulled out the gun from the holster and started to make his way towards the cell. The gun felt heavier all of a sudden, after all these goddamn years.
****
Scarlet heard the familiar noise of the harsh boots retreating. Only she had no idea it was the sound of her nearing death. Maddox appeared at the door with a slick black handgun. Scarlet wondered what he planned to do with the gun, if she was supposed to be sold. Eyes fixated solely on her, like a deadly vulture sizing up his prey, he hovered over her and slowly positioned the gun’s end on her forehead. One pull and she’d be history.
She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. Would it hurt?
There was a loud gunshot which cut through the silence in a deafening roar. She opened her eyes and noticed he’d aimed it at the ceiling.
“Death is an easy escape.” Maddox declared. “I want you to suffer.”
Next thing, he seized her arm and tried to pull her into a standing position, but she shook her head, pleading softly. “I’m scared. Please don’t kill me.
He began to drag her. She tried to free her arm. “Please keep me here. I will do whatever you ask me to. Not Vera. Don’t take me to her.”
Maddox pressed a hand on her mouth as she continued to muffle her sobs. He pulled out another identical gun out of his denims. “Have you used one of these before?”
She shook her head.
****
Maddox’s fingers were laced through hers as they burst out of the cell. The guards got a chance to be appalled only for a second as they reached for their guns. Too late. The bullets passed directly through their foreheads, at point-blank range, painting the walls with a deep red, the same color that covered Maddox’s hands. For once, he intended to kill to save a life, one which wasn’t his. It was shocking and rare, all the same.
Scarlet had never seen so much blood before, only heard the term blood bath. It was her first time experiencing it in near proximity. Maddox’s hand did not waver or even hesitate as he continued to tackle everyone that crossed his path. They jogged through the passageways, the ear-splitting sound of the firing continued to assault the surroundings.
BANG! BANG!
It was too late. Scarlet screamed as a bullet slashed Maddox’s bicep. He hissed and cursed inwardly as another one pierced his thigh, but that did not stop him from reaching for his own gun. Three more shots and those men were knocked to the floor, adding to the body pile. He grabbed for her arm and cornered her towards the main door. There, his body crumbled to the ground.
Scarlet pushed his hair away from his face. “Why, Maddox?”
He extended his hand to his shoulder and removed a bullet out of it and repeated it with his thigh. He pushed the pistol in her palm, closing her fingers around it. “If anyone tries to stop you, use it.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Maddox coughed out blood. He knew he was going to pass out any minute. He closed his eyes and there were fresh tears in the corner of his eyes. He hated this new feeling, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let her die. Maybe her father ruined his life, but she didn’t deserve to pay for his sins. He would pay. One day.
“I’ve never regretted my decisions, Scarlet. I never apologize, but you never deserved what I put you through. It wasn’t your mistake what your father did to me or my family.”
He had never shed a single tear, even after he had buried his family’s bodies, but it was a miracle he had a few tears in his eyes. His words came off strangled, “I’m sorry, Scarlet.”
“Annabelle.”
“What?”
“My name is Annabelle.”
He laughed. “Annabelle, will you forgive me?”
Scarlet’s eyes turned misty, the salty droplets teetered her eyes. She nodded. “I forgive you, Maddox. You didn’t hurt me.” She cupped his blood stained face in her palms, “You gave me a new life. I don’t want to live without you.”
“My heart never took the bullets, Annabelle, but it still hurts, and I feel something. There’s something fluttering deep inside my chest as cheesy as it may sound. I don’t know what to call this feeling.” His eyes became droopy. “Just go, Anna, please leave.”
“No.” She shook her head frantically. “Not without you.”
“I will come to you, I promise.”
She looked into Maddox’s eyes and noticed the genuine sparkle. He smiled to himself, wincing at the injury. “Lesson number three, never fall in love with your captor.”
****
Five years later
Annabelle had got her life back, a new life where she didn’t belong to anybody. She lived everyday thinking about her tormenter. She wondered where he would be, or if he died that same day. A year later after the incidence she was convinced he was dead. Maddox wanted power, but, in the end, love conquered all, right?
She enjoyed her freedom, but she wanted to share it with that one person who’d given it to her. Anna sipped her tea, turning a few pages of the new book she’d bought from the store around the corner. She was so engrossed in the novel that she didn’t notice the person taking the only seat vacant opposite her.
His features, his smile, hadn’t changed. He was drop-dead gorgeous even at thirty-eight “Did you miss me, Annabelle?”
The Unspoken
“Call me when you get home.” Dana, my best friend ordered as she stood on the porch of her thoroughly trimmed lawn.
I nodded as I pulled back my mousy hair into a tight bun. Damn! If it wasn’t so hot. I hated walking home on a lazy sunny afternoon. The thought of an ice-chilled latte was so welcoming, but getting to that little paradise called Starbucks meant I would have to walk for another twenty minutes.
It was a bad idea, so I let it slip.
My messenger bag felt heavier than usual, Dana had loaned me a few books for the weekend so I could keep up with school. I had taken leave for almost a week, a result of all those delicious mouth-watering ice-creams. The cold was bad, and I was forced to slack off the entire week. Pulling on a sick person’s mask also meant I could enjoy reruns of The Vampire Diaries and movies on my rugged couch. It stopped being so much fun after I was told by Katy Hagen that I was flunking Chemistry.
Horrors.
As I walked home in a daze, the new book store across the street caught my eye. I’d been waiting to check it out for ages.
Oh well, a little peek wouldn’t hurt, now would it?
I made my way towards the store as I crossed the street. The ‘Open’ sign dangled from inside the door. I pushed the door open and the cool breeze of the air-conditioner welcomed me. I stopped having hot flashes that very second.
“Hi.” A middle aged woman beamed at me from behind the counter. “May I help you?”
The woman had a sweet welcoming smile, but wore the kind
of clothes that told me she flew right down from a vacation in Hawaii. Candy colored t-shirt over bright yellow and brown pants. She could also be Willy Wonka’s apprentice.
“I was just looking around.” I responded, trying to mirror her warm smile.
“There isn’t a wide collection of books, but I’m sure you will find something you’d like.”
“Thanks.”
Books always were my first love and I could never hold back even if my final exams were up, that’s what pissed off the woman who called herself my mother. She could practically burn down my little library back home if she got her hands on the keys of my bedroom. Yeah, my mom ran the Ruthless Club. No wonder the neighbors loathed her with a passion. I could never blame them.
I turned towards the Romance books section; skimmed the new arrivals and grabbed a novel with a plain black cover. The font was in beautiful flowing pink letters. It read Love at first sight.
I opened the book and sniffed the goodness of the new pages.
I was caught up reading the back cover when someone pushed me harshly, causing the book in my hand to tumble down. I began to pick it up but the man who’d pushed me, reached for it first. I stared into a pair of pale green orbs, framed with long, dark, eyelashes; his hair was a ruffled mess, a shade between dirty blond and copper. His other hand was balancing a pile of heavy books. His smile was apprehensive as he handed me the book before disappearing down the long endless shelves.
I took a peek and watched, mesmerized as he climbed a ladder and his taut muscles flexed when he arranged them. I swallowed hard. That dude was gorgeous and what was that yummy Italian tan?
Wait a second. He just shoved me and didn’t even apologize. Italian tan or not, that was downright rude.
Then it just clicked.
He’s sexy and he knows it.
I slammed the book on the counter, “I’d like to sign out this book for the week, please.”
“Sure, honey.” The woman smiled again, pulling out the register. “And your name is?”
“Just call me Grace.”
****
I had a hard time concentrating in school after that day. I kept rewinding the moment when the boy had pushed me accidently. I read the book I’d issued the other day really fast, burning the night light with droopy eyes, just so I could see him sooner. I needed to see him again.
Pogo, my sleep buddy, hopped onto the bed and plopped down beside me on the comforter. I played with his tail. He twirled and gave me an accusing glare with a dramatic meow. So I gave up the play and nestled close to him, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.
Several days later, I was convinced the guy didn’t have an interest in me. He worked right under my nose, but refused to exchange any kind of friendly greetings, avoiding me like a plague. A week after that, I summoned up the courage for small talk. He stood near a pile of books, jotting down on his pad and quite oblivious to his surroundings or maybe he was just a pro at the pretence game.
I cleared my throat, “Hi.”
He continued to do his job. The ignoring game being played in full swing.
“Can you just help me find books by Stephen King? A mild horror novel would do. Not that I haven’t read the spooky ones, but I’m in a mood to read something light this time.”
Wow. The babbling was going overboard.
He was acting really stuck up. He hadn’t even looked my way. In fact, he reacted like I was freaking invisible, like I was non-existent. Way to treat a customer. I had an urge to complain to the lady about the misbehavior of her employee, but in the end, the forgiving heart that I had told me to go against it, so I issued yet another crappy book and walked out of the store in utter disappoint.
****
One week later
Dana tapped her French manicured nails on the table in frustration; “I know those types of men. They are the attention seekers. The more you’re out of his reach, the more you’re a subject of his intrigue. Why don’t you just pass a note to him?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I munched onto the blueberry muffin, the gooey texture melted in my mouth.
“I’m not. Look, Grace, he is the first guy you’ve ever talked about, which makes him one of a kind. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me he had horns. I think you should at least tell him about your feelings. Who knows, maybe he secretly likes you and the ignorance is just a pretence or maybe he is just a shy guy or--”
“Or maybe he has a girlfriend and doesn’t want me to bother him.” I completed the sentence for her.
Dana analyzed me for a moment, measuring the odds. “That’s possible, but don’t give up so fast sweetheart. Give it one last and your best shot this time. Friendship is a great way to start.”
Dana gave me the heads up. Rules on how I should deal with the guy and even promised to loan me a dozen books on ‘How to get a boyfriend’. I snorted. Funny, how she read all those magazines and managed to remain single. Shouldn’t she be the Lady Casanova by now? I kept a large rock on the little self-dignity that was still intact and made my way to the book store again. I wanted to find out what the heck was up with him, tell him how arrogant and self-centered he was. The tiny bell hanging above the door dinged, announcing my presence in the store.
“Hi, Grace. It’s so nice to see you again,” The lady greeted me.
“Hey, Janice, I have a school project coming up, and I needed a few books related to the matter.”
“You see those shelves over there.” She pointed towards the far end of the wall, “Those might be the right shelves. Take a look and pick as many books you’d like.”
I thanked her and walked in the general direction she’d pointed in, crossing by my most favorite shelves. An hour of book hunting later, I had collected two books and I needed another one that might cover up the last unit of the assignment. I hadn’t seen him since the time I’d been in the store for half hour, but my heart fluttered the second I laid my eyes upon him. He stood near the shelf opposite mine, rearranging a few books, checking the list in his hand occasionally.
I manned up with the little self-dignity that was still intact.
“Thou art a douche. What do you think of yourself?” the question was directed to him. “I’m starting to wonder if you even speak English, or you probably think it’s so cool to keep ignoring people every time they ask you something. I’ll let you know that it’s a low blow.”
He didn’t respond, as I chuckled. “Right, you are so full of yourself that you think you aren’t entitled to answer my questions.”
He remained silent, like he had invisible earphones plugged in. Who was I kidding?
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” I couldn’t hold myself as I closed the distance between us, seized him by the arm and forced him to look at me.
“What is your problem?” I was expecting him to kill me with his broody gaze but he surprised me with a warm dimple kissed smile.
His hands reached to his ears as he pointed to each one and then lowered his fingers to his mouth and waved his thumb at me—indicating that he couldn’t hear nor could he speak. The cruel heart inside me twisted in a large knot. How could I be so stupid? I was overwhelmed with a pyramid of emotions, guilt and shame washed over me.
Moisture clouded my vision as beads of tears grazed my cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“Ahh… ” That’s what he could manage to say. He pushed a large sized chemistry guide in my outstretched hand. He’d been looking for the book that I’d been searching for. I began to regret not having a pack of tissues.
“Thank. You.” I said each word separately and wished I knew sign language. I thought of making small talk. I pulled a little notepad and a pen out of my bag and wrote.
My name is Grace. Yours?
He stared at it for a second, then took the pen from my hand and wrote below.
Nice to meet you, Grace. I’m Duane.
We grinned at each other foolishly. I wrote back.
What time do you get off work? How about coffee with
me?
Duane’s eyes glimmered cheerfully as he nodded his head earnestly. God! He was an eye-candy, almost like a walking Ken doll. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone told me this guy sported invisible wings and a halo. Duane got off from work almost two hours later, and the store owner stared at us in awe as we walked out of the store together. She had an unusual smile on her face.
We entered the little café just across the street. I never knew someone like Duane in my entire life, but I wanted to make him feel comfortable. He pushed the menu card towards me and I pointed at the coffee of my choice. I thought of ordering myself but, Duane was the one who took it in his own hands.
“Hey Duane.” the waitress greeted him cheerfully, and smiled politely when her eyes drank me in. “looks like Duane has earned a pretty date today.”
Duane waved his hand at her shyly. I’m sure he didn’t understand what she said; just that she was teasing him. She jotted down our orders and disappeared into the restaurant. Duane began to fidget as he retrieved the notepad and wrote something in it.
Are you in high school?
I jotted down below it.
Yeah. Senior year. You?
If I could guess correctly, he looked like he was a university guy, probably somewhere in his mid-twenties.
Graduated university, I want to be a librarian.
I gave him a thumbs up, “That’s nice.”
I had no clue as to how time passed by, completely forgetting about the project which I was due to submit the next day or the fact that my lazy cat was meowing for his food in the room. I wrote on the note.
Can we do this again someday?
“Ahh...” That was enough for my heart to go into an excessive overdrive. He didn’t need to talk. I bid him farewell and rushed home with a bag of cat food. I couldn’t keep my happiness at bay the entire day, though at night I cried my eyes out. Cried because I hated the way I thought of him before I found out the truth.
Days turned to months and I knew that I had developed this special relationship with Duane. Every time I was close to him, I felt a sense of peace, a feeling that he belonged with me. Janice, the woman who owned the bookstore, told me that his parents died tragically in a car accident when he was young and that he’d been alone since. I kept thinking how life could be unfair for him. For someone who smiled each day, had no regrets. My affection and feelings for him did not come out of sympathy or remorse; it was pure love.