by K A Sands
I slumped all the way to the floor, cool tiles against my back caused me to shiver. I could vaguely hear Stella in the background, her words garbled and muffled. Panic set in and I grappled at the cabinets to haul myself up, only managing a few inches. Slippy hands found no purchase, the slickness of the blood making it impossible.
“Stay down.” Stella growled close to my ear and I froze in place, recognising her cruel tone.
I knew this woman inside out and right about now the stark realisation that she had my life in her hands, sloshed about in my brain. I slid to the floor again, laying in the rapidly spreading blood underneath me. I couldn’t feel around my head, I suddenly grasped I was in big fucking trouble.
Stella knelt next to me, her face coming in and out of focus. “I’ll ask again.” She pointed the tip of a kitchen knife at my cheek. “Who is she to you?”
Thinking straight was impossible, my words stuck in my throat, jumbled in my brain. She slapped at my face, stars spotted behind my eyelids as I slid them closed again.
“Who is she, Lucca?” she screeched.
Blackness closed in and I couldn’t help but fucking laugh. I laughed at the pain, laughed at the irony of it all. I opened my eyes and stared at my ex-wife, my laughing becoming a choke as blood bubbled up my throat. I spurted bright red splotches across her pink silk shirt as warmth flushed through my chest. Errant tears trickled down the sides of my face and leaving everything behind became scarily simple...easy.
The shattering of glass roused my dimmed senses as I tried to peel my heavy eyes open. Through the slow din of noise, I caught a faint sniffle and more glass splintering. My heart beats thudded slower and slower, I couldn’t feel much even though my head thumped over and over in excruciating pain. A wetness seeped under my back and another wave of panic assaulted me. Stella’s feet had stopped beside my head and they weren’t moving. For a moment time stood still as I squinted at blood stained stilettos. I shifted my view upwards, the pain almost unbearable. Her feet became knees, the knees became Stella. I raised my eyes a fraction more and considered hers; soulless and dead. They were beginning to swell, and I comprehended the broken nose she sported. I tried to suck in a breath, struggling, a gurgling noise invading my ears.
Oh God, did I do that? Did I hurt her?
I watched as she fumbled the phone to her ear, bloody fingers smearing the white plastic, distantly catching her trembling voice. “There’s been a break in, my husband’s been stabbed...”
She rambled on and I zoned out trying to make a mental checklist of where I was hurt apart from my chest and my head, my brain too foggy to concentrate. Stella bent over me, phone no longer at her ear, her eyes bright with malice as she pressed her hand over my chest. A sharp pain accompanied her sneer as she gripped the handle of the knife embedded in my torso, pushing slowly onto the metal so I could feel each centimetre of the blade inside me. My vision blurred. Closing my eyes, I dreamed that my nightmare was finally coming to an end. The uncertainty of life had never tasted so bittersweet on my tongue.
* * *
There was a silence I welcomed. Hoping to remain, I embraced the quiet. I felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, thankful for the darkness that had finally claimed me.
Frighteningly peaceful.
But a beauty shone in this dark I was desperately clinging to. Trying to grasp a single, lucid thought seemed pointless.
Serenity washed over me.
Then I heard it. One word...floating around in the obscure space; dangling in front of me, sneaking up behind me. Whispering.
“Fight...”
Just out of reach, teetering around the edges; teasing...flaunting, I couldn’t quite grasp it. I ached to find it, to hold on with all my might.
In the next breath, another husky whisper. Closer...closer still...
Brushing over the back of my hand, the warmth came; a tinge of heat. Yet, no sooner was it there, it was gone again. Like ashes on the wind. Scattering far and wide, out of reach.
Heavy with anticipation, my heart beats slowed. Methodical thuds within my chest counted time...one, two, three...On the fourth murmur, it reappeared and the beats in my chest ached. The tangible sounds, clearer; within reach.
Imaginary tips of fingers grazed along the outer edge. My mouth tasted the ashy residue; chalky, dry. Warmth seeped between flesh and bone, only then did I dare to reach out and grab, floundering to capture my escape.
I held on for dear life.
“FIGHT!”
My breath shuddered and jarred as the words screamed in my head.
“FIGHT!”
Blood rushed through my skull, deafening me. Pain seared across the entirety of my body, the agony burning. Screams punctuated the silence; blood curdling cries that pierced my very soul. Shrieks no longer kept at bay.
“FIGHT!”
Heat surrounded me, whispered words banished the din of the slow rumble. Comfort and safety flourished; enveloping me, reaching into me, pulling me into the now.
The void slipped.
My shouts were frantic, sobs wracked the frailty that was me; quieter than before, no less anguished and still loud enough to be recognised.
“Fight...”
Gentle, warm fingers threaded through mine and a familiar smell tickled at my nose. I was bathed in a love so immense it wrapped itself around my heart; swaddling, making me ache, helping me quiet. Reassuring. I was climbing down, breathing. The tenderness satiating the ever-ebbing panic. The benevolent hand gripped mine tighter and I returned the proffered sentiment. An affirmation. I was here.
“Don’t let go...I’m here.”
Laura
Fight. Don’t let go...
Lucca Rinaldi was meant to be in my life, of that I was damned sure. I begged not to have missed the opportunity. When I’d sat down next to his bed a while ago, my heart had pinched painfully at the sight of such a strong man reduced to bandages and tubes. How did this man deserve to be there? I didn’t subscribe to the bullshit, Lucca had no business laying with a fractured skull and a knife wound to his chest.
I’d asked for half an hour, feeling like an intruder, wanting to barge my way in nonetheless. I had to see for myself that his breaths still counted. Ryder had ushered me into the room as I’d approached him with Taylor, then left me alone. I wasn’t fooling myself that my presence would make a difference, but I’d had to see him. And when his fingers moved? I cried and held tighter, holding my breath like I had been for hours.
The door clicked behind me and someone entered, their footfalls quiet. My time with Lucca understandably short lived, his family needed to be here more. I was grateful they’d afforded me a few minutes alone with him. Ryder moved beside me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.
“You okay, Laura?” he asked, his voice timid and low.
I rubbed at my chest with my free hand. “Yeah...”
“Ayden’s on his way back.” And that was my subtle cue to leave.
“He squeezed my hand.” How could I let go?
“That’s great.” It was all he said as he got down on his haunches and curled his arm around my shoulder, tugging me sideways into his body.
I refused to take my attention from Lucca. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“There’s no hurry. I’m sure Lucca would like to see you when he wakes up.”
I snort laughed, so unattractive, who cared? “He hardly knows me, Ryder.”
“Oh, but that’s gonna change.” He squeezed the top of my arm. “Mark my words.”
We sat in comparable silence for what felt like eons. I was no stranger to the way time had a habit of slowing to a crawl in situations like these, in reality it had only been a few minutes. No words between us, for they didn’t matter, just the comfort of two people waiting.
Lucca gripped my hand again, this time with more force. A low moan vibrated in his chest; a chest that was bandaged and tubed, and stained red. Ryder dropped his arm from me and leaned closer to the bed.
“Hey, buddy...” He reached down to touch Lucca’s arm “Time to wake up, dude.”
“St...Stella...Stella...”
Shock vibrated through me and I let go of his hand like he’d burnt my skin. Her name was barely audible, yet it echoed around the sterile room. This wasn’t my place, I’d been a fool to think my presence mattered. Ryder looked at me through bleary eyes and smiled weakly. I returned the sentiment, well, as much as I could muster while pain was lancing my insides. Tears blinded me as I stumbled from the chair and hastily left the room.
* * *
The grip of winter still hung in the air and followed right into February. Lucca was coming home in a few days. I felt confused but steadfast in the decision I’d made. He’d asked for me several times, relaying messages either through Taylor or Ryder. There were texts galore I couldn’t bring myself to return. He’d even called, I hadn’t answered, hoping he’d get the hint and that would be the end of that. He didn’t try calling again, still the texts kept coming. Some nights I lay sobbing in my bed, reading his words, thinking how life had gotten the upper hand on me another time. I sobbed for something for a man and a relationship that had never come to pass and felt stupid for doing so. The comprehension of how my heart could break so easily, eluded me.
Lucca: Please talk to me, Laura
Lucca: Can I see you, will you come?
Lucca: Is it strange how much I miss you?
Lucca: Why did you leave? I need you!
The last one particularly hurt, his plea confusing and desperate. The man had surely lost his marbles? The knock to his head doing a lot more damage than a fractured skull. I wrestled with myself every goddamned day. Taylor had been no solace either, had even shouted a few times, calling me selfish.
Nothing mattered.
Lucca was not mine to want, I was not his to need. His wife’s name from his lips a clear testament to where he belonged. In my life was not it.
I’d thrown myself into manual labour to quiet the demons fighting for control. Being exhausted come bedtime never seemed to help the sleeplessness that had plagued me since Lucca uttered his wife’s name and I’d fled his bedside. Stella’s ‘chat’ had initially unnerved me and I’d put it to the back of my head considering the situation with Lucca. Now, the nasty encounter was wheedling its way back to front and centre. Paranoia overtaking lucid thoughts.
How did she know who I was? Had she recognised me? If she had, who else would do the same? Who else would figure out who I was? I hadn’t told Taylor, not wanting to panic her, but she’d start getting suspicious soon enough. I’d hardly crossed over my porch the last few weeks. I admitted to myself I was frightened. I didn’t want to leave the small semblance of happiness I’d carved out in Beaufort.
I’d thought to seek out Stella and confront the woman, but no-one had seen hide nor hair of her since Lucca was admitted to hospital. She hadn’t even been in to visit her husband as far as I was aware. Whilst thankful she was nowhere to be found, I was uneasy over it too.
I brushed those thoughts away as I showered and dressed, thinking about the dreaded grocery task. Today was slightly warmer than it had been recently, I could get away with a long skirt with tights underneath for a change. I’d be warm enough while I tackled the arduous grocery list I’d written down. There was something about shopping online for perishables that I found unappealing. My fridge demanded fresh, so I was braving the outside.
The joy...
Beaufort didn’t have many shops, so I drove to the next town over, Perham’s population was larger than the village and the supermarket did fine. Inside was blessedly quiet and I gathered my listed items without much fanfare or polite conversation. I pushed my half full trolley out through the supermarket doors and headed toward my car. An uneasiness crawled over my skin, and I scanned the car park, looking for anything out of place, or anyone lurking, my senses tingling. Seeing nothing I continued to my car, pulling open the boot and hefting the shopping bags in before slamming it shut. The apprehension never dissipated, still I saw nothing untoward. I decided to put it down to my wayward thoughts this morning and a hefty dose of fear. I was going stir crazy.
Once I’d put back the trolley, I hot footed it back to my car, desperate to get home and within the safety of my own four walls. When I reached to open my car door, my attention was drawn to the windshield, a red item tucked under the wiper. I shivered when I reached for the offending whatever it was. There was a reason I didn’t do red; no clothes, no ornaments, nothing in my house...zilch. It wasn’t a colour I wanted to ever see again. Yet here I was, plucking a dead and withered red rose from the front of my car. Staring at it blankly I swore the thorny spikes were digging into my back, much like they had all those years ago.
“Your favourite, Jessie. All for you.” Thick thorns pierced my flesh as he crushed me to the floor, his thigh pushing my legs apart, his breath scalding on my neck...
My knees gave out, air rushed from my lungs as I slumped down the side of my car, the wheel arch was too small to climb into and disappear. This wasn’t happening. There was no way the sick fuck knew where I was. I put the roses on my porch down to a wrong delivery and dumped the things in my trash the next day, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Couldn’t ignore Stella, she knew, and I’d bet the last coin in my purse he absolutely knew where I was.
I flexed my fist, the dry petals crumbling in my palm, the rotten thorn piercing my thumb. I winced as a bubble of blood rose to the surface and trickled down the side of my hand. The pain was effective - pain meant I could still feel, I was still alive.
Cold concrete seeped through my skirt and tights as I sat. I was having trouble connecting my thoughts, joining the dots, stringing together a plan of action. I couldn’t sit there all day. Digging my phone from my coat pocket with numb fingers, I was surprised to note I’d been sitting against my car for over half an hour.
What the hell must I look like?
I threw the ruined flower to the ground and stood on wobbly legs. I wasn’t sure I could drive but I wanted to get into the car where I’d feel less exposed, safer than sitting on the ground in the car park. I yanked open my door and shuffled my stone-cold arse into the driver’s seat.
My mind finally caught up with me. Where should I go? What if he followed me? He probably already knew where I lived, pointless worrying about going home. I thought to call Taylor but nixed the idea, I was sick and tired of running to my sister when I freaked out. Because that’s what I was doing – freaking out.
I grabbed at the steering wheel, knuckles white and let the rage take over. With no way to keep a lid on it, threatening like a volcano ready to explode. I let out an almighty scream and took a mini fit right there in the front seat of my car, not caring who saw me. I punched and pulled at the steering wheel, cursing the injustice of it all.
He would not win!
I was so tired of this. Fuck it, let him find me, let him be seen. Maybe the time had come to take some payback. The thought terrified me but lit a fuse in me, I refused to run. I calmed as quick as I’d lost it. A temper tantrum wasn’t going to do me any favours. Jamming the keys in the ignition I started up the car and headed back to Beaufort. An uneasy calm stole over me with every mile I travelled toward home. I was ready to stop being a coward, ready to act.
* * *
Taylor insisted on us having dinner together. I faked annoyance, hiding I was truly grateful for her company. Nerves were still jittery, but I was confident in keeping those suppressed while my sister visited. We ate lasagne, which she always devoured, and we drank wine. The evening had been comfortable, both of us happy to spend some time with each other, her company had been sparse the last few weeks, between Lucca in hospital and her relationship with Ryder.
“Why haven’t you been?” she asked around a mouthful of garlic bread.
“Oh, come on, Taylor. Don’t start this shit again.”
“He wants to see you.” She pointed her pasta laden fork at me.
“What t
he fuck for?”
Taylor glared at me, mouth half open, fork suspended mid-air. I watched her slowly blink, once...twice...before she clattered her fork to her plate, pushing it away from her.
Oh, Lord. Here we go.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” I picked up my glass and took a gulp of wine before levelling my own stare in her direction. “I’m tired of hearing it, okay? I don’t know him and vice versa. I’m not gonna get in the way of whatever is going on between him and his wife.”
She waved a hand across the table. “Pffttt...that bitch? Trust me, he needs a signature and it’s done.”
“He’s still married, Taylor,” I reminded her.
“Paper! On fucking paper, Laura. He’s as good as divorced her nasty arse!” Taylor’s voice was loud and accusing. She never shouted, which meant I’d pissed her off.
“Why are you pushing this?”
“He’s a nice guy. Could use someone like you in his life.”
Someone like me? A used up, scarred, shell of a woman, who jumped at her own shadow? My sister was delusional. What could I possibly have that Lucca Rinaldi would find appealing?
“Oh, fuck you!” I got up from the table none too gently. “I’m not a rebound, Taylor, so fuck you.” I let my anger seep into my words, remembering what Lucca told me all those weeks ago. “I’m worth more.” I clattered half empty plates into the sink and gritted my teeth as my sister sat quietly. I needed this conversation like a hole in the head. “I’m sorry,” I said, hating I’d raised my voice at her.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know,” I acknowledged. “It doesn’t mean that’s not how it would be.”
She meant well, but Lucca was the wrong tree to bark up. I had to fess up, even if only to get her to drop her infatuation with Lucca and I together.
“I already had the warning from the wife, I don’t need to be in the middle of whatever’s going on between them.”
She stood up and moved, wrapping her arms around me, kissing my head. “I get it, I do.” I hugged my sister back, taking the comfort, she offered. “But you can’t avoid this.”