by Dori Lavelle
I leaned forward and inhaled the tangy sea air, my lungs expanding with life. If I wanted to live, I had to stop thinking negative thoughts. I had to stop thinking about the HIV and focus on survival. HIV was not necessarily a death sentence, at least not these days. Many people lived with the virus for years—like Alvin.
Of course, my whole life would change. I would look at myself differently, and many people would judge me. At least I had enough money to afford medical care.
Getting off the yacht of horrors had to be my priority. Everything else could wait. Whatever came my way, I would find a way to handle it… somehow.
I turned away from the railing, leaning my back against it. Alvin was nowhere to be seen. He must’ve gone below deck. Why would he do that? He hardly ever left me alone, and especially not out here.
I had to do something while he was out of sight, anything to assist in my escape.
I remembered a box I’d seen earlier, near Jim’s chair. Maybe there was something in there I could use, something I could sneak back into my chamber.
Pretending I was going for another walk around deck, I moved close enough to the bridge so I had a view of the box. Looking left and right for Alvin, I bit the bullet and hurried to the entrance of the bridge.
Jim turned to look at me and then at the box, which sat only a few inches away from my feet. I sucked in a slow breath, trying to squash the panic building inside my heart.
Would Jim alert Alvin? I had a feeling he knew what I was up to, but he looked the other way again and continued doing his job.
My heart lurched when I noticed a black smartphone on top of the stack of newspapers inside the box, next to a flare gun. My phone. I never thought I’d see it again. I thought Alvin might have thrown it into the sea. Why hadn’t he hidden it? Was he actually that careless? Or had Jim put it there for me to find?
Who cared how it got there? If the battery wasn’t dead, it could be my rescue.
I had to act fast before Alvin returned. I could already hear his footsteps, or was I imagining it?
I hobbled to the box and snatched the phone. Jim gave me another glance but didn’t do anything. Clearly he had no intention of ratting me out. At this point I didn’t even care if he told on me. I wouldn’t miss this chance. Hopefully by the time he told Alvin, I would have reached someone back home.
My depression cleared slightly, allowing me to think straight for the first time in days.
My heart thumped as I scuttled away, pushing the thin phone into my panties, the only place I could hide it. I walked with my body folded forward so it wasn’t visible through my pants.
Sweat trickled down my temple, and fear gripped every cell of my body, but for the first time since my last escape attempt, I felt a different sensation—anticipation. I might be able to contact the outside world. Maybe somebody would help me before my luck ran out. The problem was, I didn’t know my exact location. Finding the yacht on the Caribbean would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. But surely the cops had resources that allowed them to do the impossible.
Still, I was conflicted about having Alvin arrested. Sometimes I wanted him to get locked up for what he’d done to me, but then I dwelled on his mental illness. He did what he felt was the right thing. He could only find healing in punishing the person he saw as responsible for his pain.
I couldn’t waste time thinking about what would happen to him once this war was over. My safety was my priority. Of course, I’d have to get as far away from him as possible, maybe move out of the country and start over someplace else, a place where no one knew me.
I’d always wanted to live in Italy. I’d own a bike instead of a car and explore the villages and hills of Chianti. I’d relax in the thermal springs of Saturnia, eat porchetta, and watch the setting Tuscan sun with a glass of Montepulciano in my hands.
As long as I resided in the US and Alvin was alive, I would be in danger. Even if he was imprisoned, he might try to break out and hunt me down. He had spent thirteen years planning my demise; he wouldn’t give up until he killed me.
When Alvin came back on deck, he didn’t glance my way. He was on the phone. After a minute he hung up and stood there, frowning in the direction of the water below.
How did it look inside his mind? How dark was it in there? What kinds of plans did he have left for me? How deep was Miles buried?
My gaze flickered to Jim. Our eyes met, but there was no criticism or warning in his eyes. Maybe he cared after all.
After about five minutes, Alvin finally came to get me and took me back to the chamber. I walked carefully to prevent the phone from slipping out of my underwear. Hopefully, by the time he realized it was missing, I would have reached someone. And hopefully I’d still be alive when help arrived.
The walk to the chamber felt like forever. I couldn’t wait for him to leave me alone.
When we arrived, he left me for about five minutes, then returned with a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, and the usual pitcher of water. He left again.
Before I removed the phone from my underwear, I glanced around, looking for cameras inside the chamber. Nothing suspicious.
I didn’t use the phone immediately in case he came to get the plate early. Instead I hid it under the mattress and ate quickly. I hardly tasted the food, my whole attention on the phone.
Alvin came for the plate fifteen minutes later, and then he left me alone again.
I pulled out the phone, switched it on. As the screen came to life, I allowed myself to cry.
***
I paced the room, praying for enough bars to connect to my cellular service. Nothing. It didn’t matter where I stood, or how high I lifted the phone above me. I almost gave up after five minutes of trying and failing. But then I remembered Alvin mentioning he had satellite access to the Internet. I went to the settings and checked—sure enough, I was able to connect to a Wi-Fi signal. And he had even left the network unprotected.
Excitement and fear had me gasping for air. My fingers shook as I tried to get online.
I went to my work email account, which was flooded with both personal and work-related messages. The most recent was from my assistant, Jolene. Without bothering to read it, I simply clicked on it and hit “reply.” My fingers were frantic as they typed. Sweat dripped onto the phone, along with my tears of joy.
Jolene,
I’m in danger. I do not know exactly where I am, but I’m somewhere in the Caribbean, on a yacht called the Vendetta. Miles has kidnapped me and is threatening to kill me. Please try as soon as possible to contact the police or Coast Guard or anyone who could help me. I really need your help and I need you to act fast, before it’s too late. The yacht is white with the name in black and gold writing. Please help me, Jolene.
I didn’t bother to sign my name. Every second was a matter of life and death.
I’d planned to send another email to my mother or Kirsten, but before I got the chance, I heard his footsteps. My heart crashed and I scrambled to hide the phone again, pushing it under the mattress.
The door flew open and there he stood, in all his evil glory. Did he know? He looked at me for a long time, eyes narrowed, and then simply turned and left again. My whole body sank with relief.
He clearly suspected something, but didn’t seem to know exactly what was going on. And even if he did, I had already sent an email. He might still decide to kill me before help came, though. I prayed Jolene would see the email in time, that it was office hours back home.
I laid down my body and closed my eyes, pushing one of my hands under the mattress to grip my lifeline, afraid to let it go. But after a while, I let my hand slip out. It would be a bad idea for Alvin to show up while I slept, and find me holding on to the phone.
I fell into a fitful sleep, where the horrors of my past met those of my present.
Chapter Nineteen
Alvin stopped convulsing. His eyes closed. I wiped away my tears and bent to check his pulse. I didn’t feel anything. I could h
ave been checking in the wrong place. How was I to know? I had never been in the presence of a dying person before. But it seemed like he was dead.
It started to rain. Drops of water drenched his clothes and hair, washing away some of the blood.
I jumped back in fright and turned to look at Stacy. She held his gun in her hands.
“What are you doing?” I put my arms around myself, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking.
“This… It’s not loaded.” She spoke softly, but through the rush of the rain, every broken word reached me.
“No… no, it can’t be.” My body stiffened in shock. Alvin’s threat had been an empty one? I had killed an innocent person?
The next few minutes passed with Melanie crying and begging us to go to the cops, and Stacy trying to keep us all calm. She kept repeating the self-defense argument.
“He threatened to kill you, Kelly. You didn’t know he was bluffing.”
“I shouldn’t have reacted without thinking.” I bent forward, my stomach cramping. “I should have waited.” I should have kept my fears in check, tried to reason with him.
Stacy placed a hand on my back. “Kelly, you did not know that the gun was not loaded.” Stacy said the words slowly. “He could have killed us.”
I stood up and shook my head. “But he didn’t. I killed him.” I looked at all my friends with terrified eyes. “I’m going to prison.” My whole life would be tainted by scandal.
Stacy took me by the shoulders. “You’re not going to prison. Do you hear me? Only the four of us know about this.”
“Are you crazy?” Melanie shouted and started to walk away. “I did nothing wrong. I don’t want a part of this.”
Stacy grabbed her arm. “Don’t be stupid. Kelly is our friend. We have to help her. If you were in her place, we would do the same for you.”
Stacy had her own reasons for wanting to keep things quiet. Her father was running for mayor. The news of his daughter being anywhere near a crime could damage his chances.
After much resistance, Stacy managed to convince the others to stay and help. She was always the ring leader. Anything she said was law.
Since we had to think and act fast, Stacy came up with the idea that we get him off the road. She gave us instructions to pull his body into the nearby woods.
Alvin was heavy, and his blood was thick and dark, smearing across my fingers before the rain washed it away.
We carried him deeper into the woods until we found a ditch. We had no choice but to dump him in there and hope no one connected us to his murder, connected me to the murder. I was the criminal.
After we dropped the body into the ditch, all of us sprang into action, throwing dirt on top. The rain washed away the earth almost faster than we could dump it on Alvin’s body. But we did the best we could. And then we went back to the car, soaked through and shivering. The rain was already washing Alvin’s blood from the road.
We stopped at a nearby motel, and Melanie removed a clean blanket from the trunk and wrapped it around herself to cover the blood. Then she went inside to book a room with her credit card.
Instead of going to the cinema as we’d planned, we spent an hour taking turns in the shower, and trying to come up with a story in case the cops came knocking. We would all be leaving town soon for college, but that didn’t make us untouchable. Whether the cops came or didn’t, my life had changed completely. I would have to live with the crime for the rest of my life. In the span of a few weeks, I had not only caused the HIV scandal—I had become a murderer.
Despair settled over me like a dark, heavy mist when I woke from the dream that had taken me back to the past. I sat up and drew my knees to my chest, trembling.
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I remembered the phone and reached for it. I switched it on, having turned it off before falling asleep to conserve the battery.
Jolene had responded.
Chapter Twenty
Jolene was the kind of person who got things done and kept a cool head during stressful situations—both reasons why I had hired her. While reading her email, my hands shook so much I dropped the phone twice.
Dear Chloe,
Your email shocked me. I had a feeling something was very wrong when I couldn’t reach you.
We’re all so worried. Try to hang in there. I have alerted the police, and they’re working on your rescue. If it’s at all possible, please send me more details on your location. It was hard to explain to the cops exactly where you are. But they have a copy of the email you sent me. They’re looking into your disappearance as I write this.
Owen Firmin has also been trying to get in touch with you. He has been calling the office every day since you left town. He seemed worried and frantic about your disappearance. Try to get in touch with him if you can.
For now, be strong. Help is on the way. We all miss you.
Jolene
The email was enough for now. Something to hold on to, to draw strength from.
My fingers flew across the tiny keyboard as I typed my response.
Jolene,
Thank you so much for acting quickly. Please tell my mother and my friend, Kirsten, that I’m alive and well, but I’m being held captive by Miles. Also tell my mother that Alvin Jones is alive. Miles and Alvin are one and the same person. She will know what you’re talking about. Tell her to take the news to the cops. Please hurry, before he kills me.
I wanted to switch off the phone, but I was so tempted to see what other emails I had received. I glanced at the door. I’d scan through them fast before Alvin showed up.
Several emails from my mother and Kirsten, worried, as I’d suspected. Kirsten mentioned she had gone to the police several times, but they’d had nothing to help them in the search for me.
Chloe, where are you? I’m out of my mind with worry. Is it the stalker? Even though you told me you are not getting any more cards, I can’t help thinking he or she found you. I hope you and Miles are safe.
The useless cops refuse to believe you’re in danger. But my heart tells me you are. I just know it. It’s not like you to go away for days and not contact anyone. I’m going to find a way to convince the cops.
Please give me a sign of life if you read this email. I love you.
Kirsten
It wasn’t surprising that she thought both Miles and I were in danger, though I almost laughed at the idea. I’d respond to her after reading my mom’s latest email.
Honey, you’re not responding to my emails or calls. I’m dying with worry. If you are in any kind of danger, please try and get to the nearest police station. Get in touch with me if you can. Kirsten and I are begging the cops for help. I love you so much and need you to be safe. Please be safe, baby.
Mom
I moved to respond to the two emails, but then I noticed my battery was draining fast. I couldn’t risk the phone dying. I switched it off and pushed it back under the mattress. Jolene would contact Mom and Kirsten.
As I lay on my back, gazing up at the ceiling I now knew so well, I thought of Owen. Why was he so worried about me?
I couldn’t help remembering how much I had despised him, and how in a weird way we had found a connection. The fact that he worried about me meant he had been serious about starting over as friends. It touched me deeply, but I knew when it came down to it, there was no way he would turn his back on Miles. He would choose Miles over me any day. He only knew Miles to be a kind person. He saw the boy who had stood up for him in college, given him self-confidence. He had no idea that beneath all the goodness Miles had displayed, there was a dangerous monster. Or did he know all about Alvin?
Asking questions wouldn’t help. All that mattered was that the police knew what was going on, and they would get to me. I was racked with guilt, but at least there were still people who cared.
Chapter Twenty-One
A rainstorm threw a fit outside the yacht. Raindrops lashed against the window panes as the wind howled. Waves crashed against the sides of the boat, roc
king it back and forth.
It was studio day, and as Alvin led me below deck, I wished the wild storm would swallow me up and make me disappear. I imagined the storm knocking over the yacht and causing it to sink, setting me free.
The torture would be raised up a notch today. I felt it deep in my core. Alvin had come crashing into my chamber and ordered me to take my clothes off, to walk naked to the studio. He, on the other hand, remained fully dressed in khaki shorts and a black t-shirt. He also wore one of his ridiculous masks.
He had waited for my wounds to heal so he could tear them open again, and awaken the scars.
By letting a few days pass, he’d fooled me into thinking the studio part of my punishment was over, that there would be no more rapes, no more filming. That I’d escape before he humiliated me again in front of the camera. And then as I got comfortable, he turned the tables on me.
As soon as we arrived in the studio, he locked the door and removed his clothes.
“Ready for action?” he asked, standing naked before me, his penis erect.
“Don’t touch me.” I backed away from him until my leg touched the couch.
“These games you play are getting boring.” His eyes smoldered with rage as he took a few steps toward me. “You’ve been on this yacht for a while now. One would think you would have learned. I gave you so many chances to understand who’s in control. When will you get it into your stubborn head that your body belongs to me?” His hand grabbed me at the nape of the neck. Despite my protests, he tossed me on the bed, head first.
When I tried to resist him, he caught my wrists with a death grip that made my bones ache.
No way out. He’d take what he wanted.
When he pinned me down and attempted to penetrate me, my rage rose to the surface, giving me surprising strength. I yanked one of my hands from his vice and aimed my elbow at his face, enjoying the sound of the thud when it hit his nose.