KILLIAN: The O'Donnell Mafia

by Zoey Parker

  The idea was laughable now. He may have been concerned for me, but it wasn’t a healthy brotherly concern. It was obsessive, murderous. He wanted to control me. Whether he learned the behavior from Dad or had uncovered it on his own, he was no better than a stalker.

  How had I ever felt safe in that house? How had I once trusted those two men more than anyone else in my life? How had I not seen that things were out of control? That not letting me move out or go to college or date who I wanted wasn’t normal? I’d been so blind, certain that they had my best interest at heart, that I’d closed the door to my own prison cell with a smile on my face.

  Well, I thought, not anymore. Not anymore and never again.

  Killian’s house was warm and inviting. He’d bought a few throw pillows for the couch and had a few essential oil diffusers spread throughout the room.

  “You’ve decorated.”

  He smiled. “I bought a few things. I thought I might let you do the rest.”

  My heart fluttered at the thought of decorating an apartment with Killian. The two of us walking through a store, hand in hand, picking out curtains and cutlery and bath mats… He and I deciding on a nursery theme, picking out a crib and a mobile…

  Suddenly, the thoughts turned to dust in my mind. They felt impossible. How could I ever have anything that good? How could the mess of my life ever be sorted into any semblance of order again?

  Killian noticed my darkened expression. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  I tried to smile, waving him away. “I think I just need a shower.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the back of the apartment.

  The bathroom was small but clean. Killian opened a cabinet and pulled out a fluffy towel. Then, he started the water, testing the water temperature with his hand.

  “All set,” he said. He smiled at me and walked towards the door, but I looped my finger through one of his belt loops.

  “Do you think maybe you need a shower, too?” I purred.

  His eyes widened, but then he studied me. “Are you sure that’s what you need right now?”

  I answered by stepping forward and undoing his pants, sticking my hand down the front of his boxers.

  He jumped, flinching at my boldness, but then reached behind him to close the bathroom door. Immediately, the air grew steamy. He opened his wallet and pulled out a condom, setting it on the bathroom sink, a wicked look in his eyes. Then, we were on one another.

  Clothes came off and flew all around the room, littering the floor. This time, there was no slow build-up. He wrapped my legs around his waist and pushed into me while I held onto the towel rack for support. I could feel the muscles in his arms flexing around my body, the sturdiness of his legs holding me up. More than that, I could feel the power of him inside of me, filling me, stretching me.

  The steam in the air coated our skin, leaving us slick and shiny. I tasted sweat as I kissed his chest, licked his neck, sucked on his earlobe. With every kiss, he seemed to grow more urgent.

  He held me with one arm as he ripped open the shower curtain and stepped into the water stream. He lowered my feet to the floor and pulled out of me, turning me around.

  Just as fast, he was back inside me. My hands were pressed to the white tiles, and my entire body rocked with the rhythm of his movements. He pounded away inside of me, his hands grabbing greedily at my hips. Suddenly his movements began to slow. He jerked a few times, and then stopped, leaning against me and breathing heavily.

  I reached around and grabbed his neck, pulling his mouth to mine, trying to hide my disappointment. I wasn’t disappointed for long. With my hands still pressed against the shower tiles, Killian knelt down, slid between my legs, and sat down on the floor of the tub facing me, his back against the wall.

  Before I could register what he was doing, his mouth was on me, sucking and pulling and probing. I moaned and leaned my forehead against the cool tiles, my breathing growing heavy.

  Just as I was beginning to peak, my muscles tensing in anticipation, he pulled away from me.

  I glared down at him, and he saw the look on my face and laughed. Then, he inserted a finger.

  I gasped and closed my eyes. I gasped again as he inserted another. And another. He pushed and pulled inside of me as I writhed around him, moans and screams coming out of my mouth in such quick succession that I couldn’t keep track of them. Finally, I peaked. My body shook and trembled until my muscles gave in and I sank to the floor, curled up in his lap.

  He laughed and kissed my forehead.

  “Now we’ve officially earned a shower,” he said.

  I nodded. “Yes, we’re so dirty.”

  He rolled his eyes at me, a smile on his lips.

  I’d never actually taken a shower with anyone else before, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable with Killian. He squirted shampoo into his hand and then into mine, and we stared at one another while we massaged it into our hair. We took turns rinsing the soap out in the water stream.

  While I bent backward, letting the water run through my hair, he trailed kisses up my abdomen and across my chest. I used his body wash, and I liked the idea that I would smell like him. The entire bathroom filled with the woodsy scent, and I breathed in greedy lungfuls.

  When we finished, he turned off the water and grabbed the towel from the towel rack, wrapping it around my shoulders. As he did, he kissed the back of my neck, and I felt warm. Not just from the water or the steamy shower, but from the inside. It was a glow that started in my heart and burned outward.

  He gave me a large T-shirt and a pair of his boxers to wear to bed, and I curled into him, my back pressed against his bare chest. Despite everything that had happened all day, the good and the bad, for the moment, I felt perfectly at peace.

  ###

  Killian

  When I woke up, it took me a few seconds to realize the bed was shaking. I looked around, my eyes trying to adjust when I saw her. Heather was lying next to me, but she wasn’t asleep. Her entire body was vibrating. Her arms were raising and lowering unnaturally, and her legs were kicking beneath the covers. I reached over and tried to grab her face, but her head was jostling back and forth.

  A seizure. I’d never seen anyone have a seizure before, but it was clear enough to me what was happening. Her body flopped on the bed, and I felt helpless. I held her face between my hands, tried to stabilize her neck and ensure she didn’t hit her head. I hated that I didn’t know more about her. Was this common? Has she had seizures before? Should I call an ambulance?

  It went on for a few more seconds, then she stilled. Immediately I checked her pulse; it was fine, but she didn’t wake up. I got out of bed, threw on some pants, and scooped her up.

  She opened her eyes as we were driving to the emergency room, but she seemed disoriented, fuzzy.

  “Heather? Heather?” I repeated calmly, trying to rouse her into a conversation.

  She didn’t answer but just looked out the window, her eyes half-open and glassy. I prayed she was fine.

  I pulled into the hospital lot and found the closest space to the ER. I ran through the doors carrying Heather, her limbs hanging limply over my arms, her head on my shoulder. The receptionist saw me run in and immediately began directing me down a hallway. I placed Heather on a gurney, and two orderlies wheeled her away.

  The receptionist needed a lot of information I didn’t have. She kept asking me questions about her medical history, her family’s medical history, any allergies to medication. Every question made me feel more and more useless.

  “Where is she? Is she alright? I just want to see her.”

  The receptionist smiled, and I could immediately tell she heard this same thing one hundred times a day. “I know, sir. I just need some information from you.”

  “I don’t have any more information. I’ve told you everything I know. She is pregnant, and she had a seizure.” I knew I was getting short with her and, if I knew anything about healthcare professionals, ge
tting snippy was no way to get what you wanted. I tried to lower my voice and turn on my charm. “I’m just concerned about her. I don’t have any more information, and I want to make sure she is okay.”

  Just then a squat nurse with bright red cheeks turned the corner. “Are you Killian?” she asked, her voice monotone.

  I nodded. “Yes, yes.”

  “Heather is asking for you.”

  She was in a small room, barely bigger than a storage closet, and her face looked pale and lifeless compared to her flaming red hair. Still, she looked better than she had before. Her eyes were open, and she was alert. She smiled when I walked in.

  “Oh my God. How are you?” I asked, rushing to her side and kneeling next to the bed.

  “I’m fine,” she said, smiling awkwardly.

  I smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. “You did not look fine half an hour ago. Has that ever happened before?”

  She shook her head. “No, never. But the doctor said it isn’t totally uncommon for seizures to pop up for the first time during pregnancy.”

  “So, it’s normal?” I asked, my voice dubious.

  “Not normal, necessarily. But not entirely unheard of.”

  “Okay,” I said, though it came out more like a question. “So… do they know why it happened?”

  “The doctor thinks it was stress-related.”

  “Stress? What stress? Your life isn’t stressful?” I said, feigning confusion.

  She laughed and rubbed her stomach. “They checked on the baby and everything is fine as of now.”

  “As of now? Is there still a risk?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, and I hated how small she looked in her hospital frock beneath the fluorescent lights. “They don’t know. My blood pressure was a little high, and they want me to remain on bed rest for a while until things go back to normal.”

  “Okay. We can do that,” I said, already thinking of food to buy at the grocery store and movies I could rent for us to watch while she rested. “So, the doctor thinks this was just a one-time thing?”

  “We can’t be sure it won’t happen again. The only thing I can do is try to keep my stress down and rest.”

  “But you’ll be okay, right? This isn’t going to hurt you?”

  She shrugged, and a pit bloomed in my stomach.

  “Heather. If this pregnancy is a health risk…”

  “Then what?” she asked, her eyes narrowed up at me, suspicious.

  I knew what I was about to say would upset her, but looking down at her, how fragile and pale and tired she looked, I couldn’t let it go unsaid.

  “I just want you to know that I would never blame you for terminating the pregnancy if it posed a risk to your health. I know how you feel about the baby and I fully support you, but I also want to make sure you are safe and healthy. Just keep it in your mind as an option.”

  Her mouth fell open as I spoke, but she quickly closed it and looked away, staring unseeing up at the TV in the corner of the room. It was playing a rerun of the ten o’clock news, and the meteorologist was warning of rain over the next few days.

  “I just care about you, Heather,” I said, running my hand down her arm.

  She smiled up at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes. After a few seconds, she shifted, so I was no longer touching her.

  Chapter Nine

  Heather

  I tried to convince myself that Killian was just being protective. That he said what he said because he cares about me. But I couldn’t. His words played over and over again in my head as we sat together in the hospital room, the word ‘abortion’ sticking out as if it were a slur. It floated across my brain, typed in boldface, red font, all caps.

  It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that someone had mentioned it, the other time being my own father. I know Killian hadn’t said it the way my father had, forceful and cruel, but that didn’t matter. What I needed more than anything else was someone to be on my side. Someone to support me and trust that I could make my own decisions. The last thing I needed was another man telling me what to do, telling me how to take care of myself.

  The silence between us grew heavy, and I wondered if Killian could feel it. I wondered if he carried the weight of it the way I did. He must have because when it became nearly too much to bear, he offered to leave, give me time to rest. I didn’t stop him.

  He kissed my forehead before he went, twisting a strand of my hair between his fingers, and I let him, though it didn’t bring the same flutter to my chest. It didn’t fan a flame inside of me. I felt cold, distant. Like I was encased in a block of ice, and he was standing outside trying to melt me with a matchstick.

  The remote for the TV was broken, so I had to wait for a nurse to come in before the channel could be changed or the volume could be adjusted. The lights were dimmed, but they still had a fluorescent flicker that made my skin look papery and see-through. The doctor recommended I stay overnight for observation, but I couldn’t sit in the tiny, sterile room another minute. I insisted I felt fine and that I’d go home and immediately rest. They tried to dissuade me, but I insisted.

  The clothes I came in were folded on a chair in the corner, and upon unfolding them, I realized I’d been wearing Killian’s clothes. A giant T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. I grudgingly slipped them on because anything was better than the open-backed hospital gown.

  Rolling the sleeves and tying a knot in the hem of the shirt made it fit a little better, but the boxer shorts were a total loss. No way I was going to be able to convince anyone I enjoyed walking around in blue and red plaid shorts with a slit down the crotch.

  The burner phone still had a charge, though the battery was critical, and I was able to order a taxi. When the car got there—a bright yellow minivan with a missing hubcap—I realized I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. Going home definitely wasn’t an option, and I didn’t want to see Killian. Not now, anyway.

  I checked my wallet and pulled out my debit card, an emergency credit card, and $125.00. Even if Dad had canceled all of my cards, which I highly doubted, I would be able to stay in a cheap motel for a few days on the cash alone.

  I asked the driver—a balding middle-aged man with a tattoo of a snake wrapped around his neck—to take me to the nearest motel. If he was weirded out by my clothes or the fact that I was coming out of a hospital and headed to a motel by myself, he didn’t show it. I made myself feel better by thinking that he must drive much stranger people than me on a daily basis.

  I relaxed into the small back seat and watched the blur of the houses rush by the window, wondering who lived inside each one. Thinking that each one held different people with different lives and different thoughts made me feel small. Eventually, I closed my eyes, tired of seeing anything at all.

  ###

  Killian

  The towel from our shower was still on the floor of the bathroom, and the side of the bed where Heather had been laying was still mussed, as I hadn’t been in any mindset to make the bed before rushing her to the emergency room. Signs of her presence filled the space, but it still felt like a dream. The whole night had been too much to handle; a rollercoaster of anger and pleasure and terror. I could only imagine what it had been like for Heather.

  Mentioning the abortion was supposed to be a sign of my concern for her, of how much I cared for her, but I feared she hadn’t taken it that way. Sitting in the hospital room with her afterward, I’d stayed silent, thinking for some reason she’d apologize to me. For what, I don’t know. Maybe for not understanding my meaning? For not being appreciative of how much I cared about her?

  But back at my apartment, it all felt petty and unimportant. I should have explained myself right then. I should have apologized for mentioning an abortion. I should have hugged her and told her I had just been scared, but that I knew she could have this baby and everything would be fine. Heather didn’t need more doubt and fear. She needed reassurance, someone she could depend on, and I’d royally
missed that mark.

  As soon as I got home, I wanted to go back to the hospital, but I knew she needed time. She needed to rest and relax. I kicked my jeans and boots off and climbed into bed, but I couldn’t sleep. The events of the night kept running through my head on a loop. The few times I did manage to drift off, I’d jolt awake, thinking I felt Heather shaking next to me, my arms stretched out towards the empty side of the bed trying to hold her together.

  Finally, after a few sleepless hours, the sun came up, and I put my same dirty jeans back on, brushed my teeth, and left for the hospital. The drive there felt unending. I walked through the automatic doors right as visiting hours began, but I waited at the front desk for a receptionist for ten minutes.