by Marcia DM
“Yes, you do. If you don’t want to, I can always turn this car around and go back,” I answer pointing over my shoulder. She watches my face, exploring every inch in detail, trying to read an expression that can give her insight about my true intentions. But there’s nothing to be read, so she turns to the window, where there’s a dense body of pine trees hiding whatever’s beyond. Finally, she sighs.
“Okay, let’s go.”
When I step out of the car, I jog around it to her side and open the door for her. She thanks me, and I can’t really believe that after everything she’s been through, she still has manners towards me.
“Right this way,” I say while showing the way with my hand.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see she lags behind me, trying to create a gap between us. I want to believe it’s out of self-preservation, just in case I might try something, that gap will allow her to run in the opposite direction. Once again, I’m hurt that she doesn’t trust me that much, but at the same time I feel reassured that she can identify a situation where she might be exposed to danger and plan accordingly.
“What is this place?” I hear her voice ask. When I turn around, I see her studying the place, looking at the treetops and moving branches away with her delicate hands, feeling the different textures. She really likes nature.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
“When I was a kid…” I start to explain, “…I used to come to this place whenever I was in trouble and had to hide from my father. As a teenager I spent entire nights here, studying or reading. And now as an adult I come here when I need to think.”
We finally reach what I call home. Nothing has changed since last I was here— the night before the mission started. That night I needed to be here.
The pine trees are lined up perfectly around a prairie filled with yellow flowers and grass so green, you’d think it’s fake. I walk towards the cliffs to admire the ocean. This is the best ocean view around here. I breathe in, filling my lungs with pure, clean air. Damn, I love this place. I look behind me searching for Sarah, only to find her frozen in place. Her face looks pale, as if she had just seen a ghost. She’s hyperventilating. “Sarah?” I ask, but I don’t get a reaction from her. I approach her with caution. “What’s wrong?”
“I… I’m sure I…” She seems lost for words. “…know this place.”
What? Impossible.
“I used to dream of this place. Or at least some place that looks exactly like this, you know. When I was being held captive.” She’s browsing her memories as we speak. It’s like I can see the images from her dreams through her eyes. She no longer looks frightened, but happy and relaxed. That only lasted a second. Her blue eyes are now filling up with tears, as if a memory suddenly stole the joy she was starting to feel. She takes a few steps towards me and throws herself into my arms— not in a cute way. No, she’s holding onto me like a lifesaver at sea, and then turns her head up and looks towards the sky. She wants to see the sun, I know it. “Simply beautiful.” Her eyes have the same expression mine had the first time I came across this place.
“I know…” I reply while gazing at her. She looks back; our eyes meet. She blushes and heads towards the cliffs to sit near the ocean.
A couple of rocks and some pine logs make some sort of natural fence between the prairie and the ocean itself. The perfect spot to sit and relax. I sit opposite her to give her some space.
I’m thinking about giving her peace.
She’s looking at the view.
“What kind of problems could a little boy have, that he has to come to a place like this?”
“Well… I didn’t have the best of childhoods, and this place helped me cope with that.”
I only get a nod out of her, and no further questions, which I greatly appreciate.
Oh, man. I really missed this place.
The silence relaxes me— she relaxes me. I always thought this place was missing something and yet I came back time after time. Being here with her makes me realize that what I was missing was her company. Now I can say it’s complete.
Before my train of thought reaches the next rational station, she stands up and walks towards the cliffs, probably to get a better view. Now, my instinct up to this point would have made me jump in her direction to tackle her down before she jumps off. But before I can even start to execute on that principle, her voice pops inside my head saying, ‘You can’t think I’m going to hurt myself every time you turn around, Bruno.’ It was a valid point then and it’s a valid point now. So, I let her be.
Poor thing. I really can’t imagine how she feels right now. All those years of torment, of confinement and pain, are packed and weighing on her shoulders. Maybe she never thought she’d live to tell the story, that ‘that’ was it, only to be surprised once again by fate and regain her freedom, having to cope with a cruel and raw reality: the world is fucked up big time, her parents are gone, and I’m the only one she knows or can relate to. Weird, right? Now, think about it for a second— she can reflect on it because the person who left that place is not the same who entered it. Sarah buried Cassandra inside that cell a long time ago.
She’s a few feet away from me and I can only see the back of her head. The wind blows her cap away towards the cliffs. She jerks her arm forward trying to catch it, but misses it. Before I realize it, I’m standing behind her to protect her, because even though I believe in her, I still have the need to protect her at all cost. As I make half a step forward, I glance at her. She doesn’t look sad or happy. Tears are flooding her face and she has the look of someone who’s making a decision.
“I’m sorry I lost your cap.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me here. You were right all along.”
“About what?”
“You told me that I would start to feel again. Only this time, it would be different.” I remain silent this time, trying to give her some space, so she can speak her mind freely. “Can I make a request?”
“Anything you want.”
“Let… let me kill him.” She turns to me as those words come out of her mouth. Her eyes are full of fire, her facial expression screams vengeance.
This isn’t good for her.
“Vengeance? Sarah, if you don’t control it, it will control you and your life forever. Every decision from that point forward will be dictated by it. I’m not saying no, I’m just saying it because nobody told me this when I needed to hear it. That being said, if that’s what you really want, I’ll let you do it gladly.” How could I have said no? If she thinks this is going to bring her peace, who am I to stand against it?
She steps forward and rests her forehead against my chest. I don’t want to move because I don’t want her to move away. She’s still crying, silently, intimately. Even if I hate seeing her cry, I’m privileged to share this sincere moment with her.
“Taking a life changes everything, Sarah,” I whisper in her ear. “There’s no turning back, you can’t undo it. Something inside you won’t be the same and can’t be healed or repaired. It will change you, and I don’t want you to change.”
“I won’t.”
We both know that’s a lie, but the thing is, when you really care about someone, you want to give them the world, even if it means trouble.
CHAPTER 21
SARAH
Lying on a comfy bed, I’m still recapping the entire day. But there are two other things taking most of my attention.
On one hand, there’s Bruno and his leap of faith of taking me to his secret place. The impact on my emotions was so big that I could barely breathe. The similarities with the place I always imagined when I was being held captive were uncanny. There was one thing I didn’t picture before —the view from the edge of the cliffs. That was… in-cre-di-ble. If you take every one of those feelings and sum them all up, as a result you get me, thinking about Bruno and his angst towards the mission and a
ll the other stuff that happened. That deep sensitive side of his had shown up and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Every second I spent with him there started to rewrite the bad memories of ‘Him,’ and something I’ve always dreaded began to happen. I started to fall for the human inside this monster, for his caring and vulnerable side. And, according to my overthought scenarios, I’d end up being a prey again.
“It’s astonishingly interesting to watch you stop blaming Bruno for all your misfortunes, and turn your anger towards Leon…” My brain throws those words in Dr. Gonzales’ voice. Even though I canceled our sessions, it seems that it will take much more than that to extract her from my mind. But she’s not my biggest concern right now— Leon is. And after I end him, Bruno will be on the receiving end of my hatred, just like I want to.
Want, or need? Believe it or not, it’s not so easy to hate him. I can see kindness in him. He tries very hard with me; his compassion touches my soul. I can see it in every action and every word he speaks, they humanize him. Yes, I know. How can I feel this way? Even after all that has been said and done in the past, I have no choice but to feel this way now, and to come to that conclusion I had to think about what he did. Bruno had a job, a mission, a duty. A very nasty one, but in this field duty and nasty tend to go together; and he performed that duty by the book, I can understand that. He took revenge on the people who hurt him at the first chance he had, just like I will when I get mine.
When the system fails, justice should prevail, even if that means you have to take her sword and wield it yourself. Now I understand it all, being in Bruno’s shoes made me realize the righteousness of revenge. The only difference is that he didn’t need me at all for his revenge, but I… I need him.
On the other hand, there’s also Bruno. But it’s his advice on killing Leon— revenge is like an open wound: once you get it done, it may not close, and it leaves this infinite pain. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to take that chance. I guess you can say I’m feeling a little insecure right now. Something tickles my cheek. I use one of my sleeves to make it go away, and I realize it was a single tear, sliding down my face, slowly mocking my current fragility.
Is this the person who’s going to kill someone? To commit murder? To impart justice onto another being?
I can’t be this fragile if I’m really going to go through this. I do want him dead! I want to be there when he takes his last breath. I want to see the light finally go out in his eyes. I want all that and more. I demand it! I… crave for it.
The day turned into night and I’m still lying on this bed in the dark. I should switch a light on, but I don’t want to ruin this perfect picture of me, revenge and death with some stupid table lamp.
Bruno is approaching, probably to tell me that dinner’s ready. When he does, I’m going to pretend to be asleep. It makes me feel guilty, but to be completely honest, I really don’t want to crawl out of bed right now. Diving into my misery feels more appealing, even if it sounds weird to you— just for a couple of hours.
“Pff. You can’t fool me, bitch. You don’t want to see him because you know your knees will bend, your eyes will cry and, before you know it, wham! You’re at his mercy once again.” Life’s comment annoys me.
“Will you shut up for a change? You always act like a ‘basic bitch,’ treating me like I’m some kind of trash girl. But you’re the bully, you’re the trashy one,” I fire back.
“Well, well, well. The kitty’s got claws. It doesn’t matter, really. I will always be here, as long as your ass lives.” She’s despicable, but she has a point. I don’t really trust my body when it tells me it needs to feel… something, anything, even if it means to feel the soft touch of Bruno’s skin. When that happens, a jolt of electricity runs through my body. And if I give that free rein, it might end up badly.
I wonder how many girls he brought to this room before.
This room, my room… his room wraps you with shades of brown and black. A very tall bed is pushed against the wall opposite the door and I suspect that it’s perfectly centered— very military of him. There are no paintings or pictures of himself or relatives; also, not a single décor in sight. Right now I’m sure you’re thinking that it’s kinda empty, but it isn’t. A big screen hangs from a wall; I’m sure I’ve seen paper sheets thicker than this TV, which you can watch lying on the bed or sitting on the bedroom bench. It has all the stuff a regular bedroom has, with a twist of ‘I have trust issues’— everything is expensive and top-notch, but nothing in this place will give out anything about his personality. That’s something one must find out for yourself.
Right now, I know he’s very reserved, not only because of the trust issues, but also because of the shit ton of baggage he carries daily. And I know we all carry baggage, but his seems heavier somehow. I’d love to know more about that, but at this point I’m afraid to ask. Partly because knowing might prove me right: his shit is bound to be scary. Also, every time he explains something to me, I feel compelled to look him in the eye, and I might get lost in those light green eyes.
My eyelids are feeling heavier and heavier, my brain is slowly shutting down, my body feels numb and I start to drift away in my subconscious…
✽ ✽ ✽
The sound of the door opening wakes me up. Bruno’s coming in, without knocking or even announcing himself. I thought we had agreed on these things. He’s wearing sweatpants and nothing else. I can’t see his eyes, but I know he’s watching me. His big shadowy figure stands on the left side of the bed. Maybe I’m asleep, but he seems bigger than usual. I want him close to me so bad that I scoot to the end of the bed and open the sheets for him, showing that there’s enough room for both of us. He doesn’t waste a second and approaches me, sits next to me and slides under the sheets. He rolls on his side and I mirror him, showing my back. He presses me against him and our bodies meet for the first time. I’m feeling a thousand things right now; the jolts are here due to his soft skin touching mine. I’ve forgotten how warm his body is. I’m having a hard time staying still. I’m rubbing myself hard against him and pushing my butt against his body. I can feel his dick perfectly aligned between my butt checks. That makes me blush, but I’m smiling. I want this, I… need this physical demonstration of affection. He starts to undress me under the sheets and kisses my neck. I turn my head to look at him and try to steal a kiss from his lips, but a bright white light blinds me. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from it, to no avail. I can’t see him…
I wake up, gasping, sweating and… wet.
What the hell was that?
It was a dream.
“No shit, Sherlock. It was a dream and you woke up right when things were starting to get interesting.” Life doesn’t look happy, and I’m sure as hell not happy, either.
The light that blinded me was the sunlight coming through the window and hitting me in the face. Last night I went to bed without closing the blinds. Thank you, sun. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be lying in bed with Bruno, and things would have gone wild… Well, wilder.
This isn’t good at all. I thought I had it under control, that I only craved to be able to look him in the eye and nothing else. I guess I was wrong.
It’s 6 a.m. and I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep. I get up and walk towards the door. I open it and hear a strange noise. I stop to quiet my footsteps. I can’t really make anything of it, but it’s constant, it has a rhythm. It sounds like someone is breathing hard. I walk through the hallway, which takes me to the dining room, but the noise is not coming from there. I turn around and I see a white door. I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never asked Bruno about it. I approach it and put my ear against it. The noise becomes louder. This is definitely the source. I pay attention and the noise becomes a sound. It sounds like a moan. I freeze. Let’s do the math— a constant, heavy breathing and/or moaning, with a rhythm…
Sex! Sex? Is he having sex in there?
I take a couple of steps back, as if I’d just seen a ghost. My h
ands are shaking.
What if he’s with someone else?
I hear a grunt. That triggers a shot of adrenaline. I step forward again and get down on my knees to try and peek through the keyhole. I can barely see anything— it’s blurry. There’s only one way to find out what’s going on in there. I muster some courage and slowly open the door. The first thing I see is his back going up and down, moving at the same rhythm I’m hearing. I immediately close my eyes and step back.
Fuck! He’s fucking! They’re fucking!
“It’s okay, you can come,” he says.
Cum? What!?
“Sarah, you can join in, if you want.” Who does he think I am? He has something else coming his way.
Outraged, I push the door open. “I’m not—!”
OH!
Ohhhhhh…
He stands up and grabs a towel to dry his face. Mirrors, dumbbells and fitness equipment fill the room.
An authentic piece of shit— that’s what I am.
I can’t help but smile with relief. That’s it —the sounds, the panting, the motion—, he was working out, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, just like in my dream.
FUCK!
This is triggering a few emotions that were present in the dream. I need to get out of here before he notices I’m getting turned on. I look away; before I leave, I see a reflection of his back in a mirror.
Oh my God…
His back is crowded with scars, just like mine. I know those markings, those patterns. They were made with a whip. Some are old, others are recent. His back is all sweaty and shiny, making them stand out.
What? I can’t avoid looking at his body. He has scars all over his chest, too; his ripped muscles conceal them a little, but they’re still visible.
“Do you feel like working out a little bit?” He asks. I hear, but don’t answer. “Hello? Sarah? Why are you staring at me like that?”