by Annie Jocoby
It was then that I realized that I did have Luke’s scent on me. His cologne was mingling with my own perfume. I inhaled, and instantly felt comforted. Just smelling the scent that was so familiar for me was something that enveloped me like a warm security blanket.
“Nottingham,” I said, defiantly. “I said that I would marry you. I said that I would be your quote unquote ‘sex slave.’ I never promised to love you.”
“No,” he said. “But you did promise never to see him again. You’ve broken your promise. And now you’re going to pay.”
My heart quickened. I had no idea what he meant by that.
He grabbed my wrists and jerked me over to a railing that separated the living room from the kitchen. In one stroke, before I had a chance to react, he handcuffed both of my hands, so that I was secured to the iron bars. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried, hard, to tamp down the fear of what was about to happen to me.
I was helpless and scared to death.
He spread my legs open wide, and took his belt and wrapped it around one of my legs. He then pulled on the belt, hard, so that it broke my skin. I cried out in pain and fear, and I soon felt the belt on my bare back. My dress was backless, so he didn’t bother to remove it, as he gave me lash after lash.
And then he kicked me, hard, on my side. “You’re a fucking whore, and a fucking waste of breath and energy,” he was saying, as he kicked me, hard, again and again. “I won’t be humiliated by you or by anybody. Do you understand me?”
I felt that he was in a blind rage at that point, as I felt his powerful kicks on my sides and my back, again and again. Tears were streaming down my face, and I was crying out. But the more I screamed and cried, the more he beat and kicked me.
At one point, I was actually afraid for my life. I felt that if Nottingham was truly in a frenzy of rage that he might go too far and beat me to death. While I was helplessly bound to the iron railing. I felt my breath coming faster and faster, until I was almost in a state of panic.
I didn’t want to die here. I couldn’t die here. I desperately tried to free my hands, but the handcuffs were on too tightly.
I had to fight. I had to stay alive.
I saw my purse to the side of my head. My elegant little Prada clutch was beckoning me. My phone was inside that purse. If I could just get to it and dial 911...
I managed to jerk my head just enough that I could almost put the purse in my mouth. By then, by some miracle, Nottingham had actually stopped assaulting me, and I could hear him in the next room, pouring himself a drink. He was muttering to himself about how I was a worthless slut, and how he was going to teach me a lesson, even more of a lesson than what he was already showing me.
I finally did get that purse in my mouth, and I nudged it open. Thank god this was a purse that was secured by springs, not a zipper or a snap. The phone spilled out onto the floor, and I used my nose to dial Emergency.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a friendly voice said to me on the other end of the line.
“Please come. Hurry. I’m in trouble,” I whispered. “Hurry.”
“An officer will be on his way,” she said. “In the meantime, please keep calm,” she said. “An officer will be there in less than five minutes.”
I put down my head, feeling terrified that Nottingham would return to me before an officer could get there. If he came in and saw what I was doing, there was just no telling how he would react. He might finish the job.
My adrenaline was such that I wasn’t feeling the sting of where he lashed me, or the pain of where he kicked me. All I could feel was the fear that he was going to kill me, and the anxiety that an officer wouldn’t get there quickly enough.
I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I tried mightily to think of something that comforted me, anything at all. I felt that I was on the verge of having some sort of cardiac arrest, as my chest was tightening on my left side. Squeezing, and a pain was radiating down my arm.
I realized that I was hyperventilating, and my next fear was that I was about to pass out.
Finally, after what seemed like years, an officer was at the door. He knocked and announced “open up. This is the police.”
“Bitch!” Nottingham shouted at me. “You fucking cunt, how could you do that?” And then he went to the door.
“May I help you?” Nottingham said in a voice that wasn’t his usual cold, cruel cadence, but, rather, was rather charming. Kind of like the voice I heard him use with his friends at the party.
“We’ve received a phone call about a disturbance. Do you mind if we come in and look around?”
I prayed silently that Nottingham would let them. Because, if Nottingham said “no,” then the officers would have to leave and come back with a search warrant.
By the time they would come back to me, it would already be too late. I knew that.
“I’m very sorry,” Nottingham said, as my heart sunk into my shoes. “But you cannot come in.”
“Okay, sir, then good evening. We will be back after we obtain the proper warrant to enter the premises. Your refusal to let us in the door, coupled with the 911 call that came from within this apartment, will give us probable cause to search the premises.”
NO! NO! You can’t just leave me here! I knew that Nottingham was capable of anything. I cried out, so that maybe the officer would hear me, but, apparently, he was already gone. I heard the door shut and Nottingham came over to me.
“Okay, you little bitch,” he said, unfastening my handcuffs. “You get the fuck out of here. And you leave here with only the clothes on your back. Do you understand me?”
What? He was letting me go? My heart soared beyond belief. I was going to leave with my life?
I got on my feet, feeling very unsteady.
“You have to get out of here before that officer gets back with a search warrant,” he said. “Which means that you need to get the fuck out of here right now.”
I nodded my head, clutching my purse to my breasts. I ran out the door, and got the elevator and made it out to the street.
It was freezing out, and I didn’t have a coat. But I didn’t even think about that. All that I could think about was that I was free from that monster.
I called a cab, and did what came instinctively for me. I didn’t ask the cab to take me to the hospital.
I asked the cab to take me straight over to Luke.
Chapter 23
I got to Luke’s apartment, and crawled gingerly out of the cab. By that time, the adrenaline was wearing off, and I was feeling the searing pain of where Nottingham savagely beat me. I barely made it up the stairs, but, somehow, through sheer force of will, I did.
I knocked on Luke’s door. I knew that it was really, really late. Or really, really early. It depended on how you looked at it – but it was around 5 AM by this time.
Luke seemed to be awake, though, thank god, because I soon heard him rustling around inside the apartment.
He opened the door, and his eyes got wide in shock. “Oh my god,” he said. “Oh my god. Dalilah, oh my god,” he said, helping me into his place. He sat me gingerly down on his couch. “Dalilah, what happened to you?”
I just shook my head, and, all at once, I finally was able to access my emotions about that entire evening, and about my life for the last few weeks. I started sobbing, hard, so hard that I couldn’t speak at all.
“Luke, Luke, Luke, I’m so sorry,” I finally said when I found my voice. “I’m so sorry, Luke. Please forgive me,” I said, over and over and over again.
He was kneeling over me, an ice pack in his hand. “Dalilah, honey, I have to get you to a hospital. I don’t know what happened to you, but I really need to make sure that you get treatment.”
I shook my head violently. I was afraid for my life at that point. I was terrified that Nottingham had the connections to have me wiped off the face of the earth, without his hands ever getting dirty. “No, Luke, please. Please. He’ll kill me, and
maybe you too. Please, Luke. Don’t make me go to the hospital.”
“Who?” Luke demanded, his eyes narrowing. “Nottingham? I swear to fucking god, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.” Luke’s normally laid-back demeanor suddenly got stiff, and his eyes looked determined.
I laid there, completely confused, and not really sure what to say to him. Everything just happened so fast – I had to figure out my bearings and how I wanted everything to go.
I mean, there was one thing that was abundantly clear in my mind after Nottingham’s abuse. I couldn’t stay with him any longer. Not that he would even have me back after what happened, but, if he did, I wouldn’t go back. He had crossed the line from sex games to abuse. And, after seeing the look in his eyes – I knew that he was absolutely capable of anything. For all I knew, he could have killed me.
And Nottingham was just the kind of guy who could get away with murder, quite literally. Maybe he already had. Who knows? A guy like that, with those cold, cold eyes and cruel demeanor...he had no soul, no conscience. And extremely violent tendencies. Yet, he was extremely intelligent and well-connected. Not to mention loaded. He was the perfect storm, really, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was like Patrick Bateman, who was the main character in the book American Psycho. Bateman was a wealthy yuppie who was also a vicious serial killer.
Yes, if there was one thing that I had learned in my life, it was that wealthy people could pretty much get away with anything. They always surrounded themselves with yes-men and people who depend upon them for their livelihood. Not to mention the people who fall over themselves trying to please them, mainly because they want to be associated with somebody with wealth and prestige.
After all, Nick, my father’s best friend, basically got away with murder. Of course, there was a good reason for that one. Paul Lucas was a particularly low form of scumbag, and, like Nottingham, he was pretty much capable of anything. If there was anybody in this world who got what was coming to him, it was Paul.
I looked at Luke, at those beautiful eyes, which were so full of love and concern, and I knew that I had to keep on lying. I didn’t want Luke to endanger himself, which is what would happen if he decided to go and take care of Nottingham. And I knew that he would do that. He would do something to Nottingham if he knew that Nottingham did this to me. And that would surely endanger him.
I couldn’t have that.
I shook my head. “No, Luke, I, was, uh...” And then I started crying again. What was I going to say to him? That I was mugged? Assaulted on the street? And then what? He was going to make me go to the police station to make a report. There would be a sketch artist and a line-up and all kinds of investigation. To chase a phantom.
When I started thinking about how all my secrets and lies were finally catching up to me, I almost broke down right then and there.
Luke was sitting by the side of the couch, putting an ice bag all over me. He gently dabbed some antibiotic ointment on my cuts as well. All the while, he was stroking my hair and speaking to me in a low voice.
“Dalilah, just relax. You can tell me what happened after you calm down a little bit. Please, just take some deep breaths. And I’m here, Dalilah. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Dalilah.”
He had tears in his eyes, too. He shook his head. “This is my fault,” he said.
I had no idea what he was talking about. What was his fault? That Nottingham was a violent psycho? How was that Luke’s fault? So, I just looked at him. I tried to find my words, but, somehow, none were coming out.
“Luke, please, don’t blame yourself. I don’t even know what you think that you did wrong, to be honest.”
“I made you leave. God, that was so stupid of me. I should have let you stay here, at least for the night. What was I thinking?”
“No, Luke, I was the one who wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have come to your place earlier. I should’ve known better than that. Now, I feel that I have put you in the middle of a drama that you should never be a part of. This is my drama, and my mess. I should be the one who is feeling terrible for involving you in it.”
Luke was still stroking my hair gently, and he got up and got some water for me and some aspirin. “Here, Dalilah, drink this down. You look like you’re in a lot of pain. And I really, really want to take you to the hospital. I think that you need to go and be examined. You might have some type of internal injury.”
I winced as he examined my bruises on my side. “No, I won’t go. I won’t. I’m okay, Luke, really. Superficial wounds. Please don’t worry about me too much. I’m going to be just fine.”
Luke sighed. “Dalilah, I don’t think that I can take no for an answer, here. You need to get to the hospital.”
I started to feel slightly panicked at the prospect. What was I going to tell the doctors who would examine me? I was scared to death to implicate Nottingham. He could very well hire somebody to wipe me off the face of the earth. Luke, too.
I shook my head again, more forcefully this time. “No. No means no. I won’t go anywhere. If you try to make me, then I’ll call a cab and leave right now.” I got out my cell phone for effect.
Luke just shook his head, and kissed me lightly on my forehead. “That’s my Dalilah. Stubborn as anything. I love that about you, but it frustrates me as well.” He put his arm around me protectively. “I hope that you change your mind, but I won’t push it.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
He sat there, putting a cool compress on my injuries. I winced in pain while he was taking care of me, but I also couldn’t help but think that there was no place else that I would have rather been right at that moment. I felt so incredibly safe and comfortable there with him, especially in contrast to how I felt when I was with Nottingham. Nottingham always had me on edge, and I felt incredibly unsafe with him.
But, with Luke, I just felt like I was home.
And I never, ever wanted to leave.
Ever.
“Well, Dalilah, do you think that you can sleep a little bit? You look really tired.”
I didn’t know if I could, as I was in so much pain. But, I closed my eyes anyhow. And, to my surprise, I soon felt myself drifting off...
Chapter 24
Luke
Dalilah had just passed out on my couch, thank god, and I had to think fast about what was next. She refused to let me take her to the hospital.
I knew why.
She was afraid of him.
And, knowing Nottingham, she probably thought that he was capable of anything. Not that I blamed her. I always got the feeling that there was something clearly wrong with that man. The way that he stared, his demeanor...if he had really pale skin, I might have thought him a vampire or something else that was less than human. He seemed not to have a soul.
He was void. Even more than Serena, who also was void. Yet, there was always something that I could sense underneath his cold exterior. And that was that he had the capability of great cruelty.
Dalilah didn’t say as much, but I was reasonably certain that he did this to her. Which enraged me beyond measure on one hand, yet made me feel completely guilty on the other.
I shouldn’t have made her leave. I should’ve listened to her more when she was over here, pleading with me. Instead, I sent her away. I was so angry with her for throwing her marriage in my face, and for marrying somebody else in the first place. Not to mention the fact that I never got over the way that she so cruelly dumped me.
Even so, I really wanted her to stay there with me. It took every fiber of my being to turn her away. But turn her away I did. And, by doing that, I was sending her straight into the dragon’s lair.
I really didn’t think that I would ever get over that feeling. That I was supposed to protect the woman that I loved, and, instead of providing this protection, I did the opposite. I sent her into a dangerous place. A place where she apparently got beaten and whipped.
It was then that I noticed it. Very faint scars on
her back. I traced my fingers lightly, wondering why I never noticed them before. But they were unmistakable.
I wondered what had happened. These scars weren’t fresh. They were probably from months earlier.
I shook my head. Dalilah was still pretty much a mystery to me. I loved her more than I thought that I ever could love a woman, but there obviously were things that she was hiding from me. Like the fact that she was with Nottingham. Or where it was she got the earlier injuries on her back. Those were just two mysteries that begged to be answered, and there might be even more.
I stroked her hair while she lay on my couch asleep. And then I got on the phone with Jake, who was my 420 connection. I wondered if he had access to any Oxycodone or any other kind of painkiller. Because Dalilah might not be feeling the pain right at that moment, but she soon would, and I knew that she was going to end up thinking that she got run over by a truck.
“Hey,” Jake said. “Luke, my boy. How did it go?”
“Great,” I said. “Listen, I can’t talk about that right now. You got any access to Percocet or Oxy or anything like that?”
“No man. I got some Tylenol 3, though.”
“That’ll have to do. Can you bring it over right now?”
“Sure. Anything you need to tell me?”
“No. I mean, there is, but, no. Sorry, bro, I can’t let you in on this right now. It’s a pretty bad situation and the person who needs the stuff is pretty scared. Not sure how much I can tell you. Sorry about that.”
“Not a prob. I’ll be there in about fifteen.”
“Later. Thanks.”
Tylenol 3. Well, it was better than nothing. After all, it had codeine in it, which was a pretty good painkiller. I actually was impressed with Tylenol 3 when I had an ear infection and my eardrums burst. Unimaginable pain. When the doctor prescribed Tyenol 3 for me after that, I almost went down his throat. Goddamn it, I was in severe pain, and the doc prescribes Tylenol? But it was prescription strength and was surprisingly effective.