by Sienna Blake
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Caden’s hands shake around me with rage. “If you did, if you only knew, you wouldn’t fucking ask. If you knew…”
My heart breaks with the realization and hot liquid squeezes out of my eyes. Oh, Caden, you were right. I didn’t know what I was asking for. Now that know I wish I didn’t. It’s too late. I can never go back to being ignorant. Never. Now we stand apart on two sides of a dividing line and neither of us can cross it. How do I pretend not to know that about you? I can’t. We can never be together again. It’s over.
A noise snaps me out of my thoughts and I flinch. What was that? It comes again from the entrance of the warehouse. Talking. Two male voices. Oh God. They’ve followed me in here. Footsteps clip across the concrete floor. Coming towards me.
I have to pull it together or I’m dead. I wipe my eyes as I glance across to the open sky through the warehouse and at the forest of crates between. It’s still too far away. If I make a run for it, I’ll get caught. I need to hide. Hide where? My eyes search around me. I see that one of the crates near me is open, the wooden panel removed from one side and lying flat on the floor. I can see the irregular shapes of more coffee bags inside.
“Come out, come out wherever you are.” Caden’s voice, so close, sends a wash of cold fear through me. Oh God. He’s coming for me.
I duck into the open crate and slip into the back, cringing as a bag rustles when I brush past it. I crouch behind a pile of bags near the back. The air is musty back here. My lungs are screaming at me for more oxygen, but I force myself to take small shallow breaths. I have to stay calm. I have to stay still long enough for them to check the warehouse and move on.
I lift my eyes above the bags. My breath hitches as a figure walks into the square view at the entrance to this crate. Oh God. It’s Caden. I would recognize his looming figure anywhere. My heart slams against my ribs when I notice the gun he is holding in his hands.
He turns his head to look inside the crate. I duck down further. Please don’t come in here, please. My insides are screaming and thrashing, run, my skin is prickling all over me, making me tremble. Even the hairs on my skin leap into the air in an attempt to escape.
I hear a footstep as Caden takes a step inside the crate, blocking my only way out. My throat squeezes. I’m cornered in here. Oh fuck. I’m cornered. Caden’s going to find me.
With a shaking hand I carefully reach behind me and slip the gun from my belt. I hear another footstep over the roar of blood in my veins. My fingers squeeze around the gun handle. Caden wouldn’t really hurt me would he? If he knew it was me back here? Would he?
A cold thought rips through my already broken heart like it was paper. Yes, he would. He has no other choice. Just like I have no choice either. If he finds me I’m going to have to shoot.
I’m sorry, Caden.
I hear the creak of wood as he takes another step closer. He’s coming. I can feel his presence looming towards me. It seems to get darker in this crate like his body is blocking out all the light. I clench my gun, aim just above the bags and wait for his head to appear.
I’ve never shot anyone before. Now I’m about to shoot Caden. Caden. The man I love. Oh God, how much of me will die with him? How much?
I hear another step. He’s just over the other side of this pile of coffee bags. He’s right there. Right there. My finger shakes as it curls around the trigger. Get ready. I catch his scent, his wood smoke, my home. My insides crumble. My vision blurs behind hot tears. I can’t do it. I can’t kill him. I can’t.
You must. It’s your life or his…
He takes another step. I can feel my mouth and face screwing up as I start to cry silently, my gun shaking along with my body. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know whether I can pull this trigger. I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know.
Another step. I break. I collapse around myself, burying my face in my hand, trying to hold all this clenching aching pain in. Fear leaks out of my pores because I know he has won. I’m not a killer. I can’t do it. He wins.
I prepare for death.
I hear another step and another. Something doesn’t sound right. Caden’s steps sound like they are getting further away. It can’t be possible. Caden should have found me. One more step and he would have found me. Why didn’t he find me?
I peer up over the bags, slowly. I see Caden step out from the crate and disappear from view as he moves further into the warehouse. I wipe my eyes to clear my vision. A warm numbing sinks down through my body as I stare at the empty space before me where Caden was just standing. What just happened? I can’t have been this lucky. I can’t. If he took one more step he would have had me. Why didn’t he grab me and drag me out?
Maybe it’s some sort of trick? I stay where I am and wait, trying to calm the beating of my heart.
Some minutes later I hear someone coming closer. I tense as I peer out from my hiding spot. Caden stalks into view, his gun still held at the ready. A feel a stab of fear mixed with an unwanted ache. He’s still my Caden. My beautiful strong Caden.
My heart clenches. No. He’s not mine anymore.
Caden pauses for a moment at the entrance to the crate and glances in. Right at me. I freeze, every cell turning to ice from the inside out. He turns his head and passes out of view. No. He wasn’t looking right at me. He didn’t even see me. I exhale, causing my body to wither.
“I don’t think she’s in here,” I hear the distant echo of Caden calling.
My eyes close in a brief prayer. I stay where I am, listening. I may just get out of here alive. I may, if I can just keep it together. The other man calls back. I can’t hear what he’s saying. I stare at the space beyond the crate, afraid to even blink, convinced that one of them will come back. The noises of the two men fade until there is only the beating of my heart in my ears.
I’m still a shaking ball of fear inside, but I have to move. I can’t stay here. I have to try for the water. I creep out from my hiding spot towards the entrance of the crate, placing each step carefully, avoiding a bag of coffee fallen across my path. I grip my gun in my hand, the hard steel bringing little relief.
I peer around the edge of the crate, first towards the warehouse entrance, then to the direction of the water. I see no one. I hear no one. A small surge of hope flitters in my insides, which are as cold as a winter storm. I may get out of here alive.
I pause when I see the open bag of coffee on the floor and the spill of powder. Should I take some? As evidence? Should I call the police and tell them about this place? I should. It’s the right thing to do.
Then I laugh into my mouth and it tastes bitter. Yeah right. Like the police would do anything. They’ve probably been paid off to ignore this place. I’ve got to look out for myself. No one else will do it.
I step from the crate, being careful to make no noise, and begin to creep across the warehouse towards the night sky. The stars are my guide. They promise freedom. But it’s so far away. So impossibly far. The crates around me loom up like giants and their shadows fall about like black holes waiting to trap me in their depths.
As I move I have to keep myself from screaming. Please let me get out of here, please. My insides tumble and I just want to let all this fear out, but I can’t, I can’t, I just have to keep going. The hair on my neck stands on end, my skin crawls and I feel like someone’s watching me, someone’s behind me, and I keep turning my head, but they move again behind me, always behind me. Oh God, please just let me get out of here.
My breathe shakes through my lips in a soft wheezing manic kind of laugh when I slip between the last row of crates and see the sky open up in front of me. I slap my hand over my mouth. Shit. Shut up girl. Are you mad? Someone might hear you.
I blink in case I am dreaming. There it is, the sky, the water, my escape. Right there, meters away.
This end of the warehouse has no wall at all and a crane is set into the flooring, taking up the center of the space. Through
the open space I can hear mechanical noises.
I aim left and keep moving through the crates until I hit the left side of the warehouse. I follow this wall until I press aside the edge. I peer around the wall. I can see the neighboring warehouse full of light and movement. A ship is anchored at the edge of the warehouse and the crane arm is unloading shipping containers off the ship. The container makes a resonating bang when it settles on the ground.
I look down. The water is about a meter or so below. If I hang from the edge and slip in, I should make the least amount of noise. If I time my entry with the next bang of the shipping container, no one, hopefully, will hear my splash. It should be dark enough where I am that no one can see me. I glance back up to the ship to watch for the crane.
Then I notice that the ship has a name and a symbol painted on one side. I frown as I squint through the dark. Desmona, I think, is the ship’s name. And the symbol… Oh God. I recognize that symbol. That crest. That eagle with a shield and a wreath for a halo. Fear grips my body like an electric shock. It’s the same crest that I had marked on my skin. The Tyrell crest. That ship belongs to the Tyrells. So this property, these warehouses, these drugs…
Caden works for the Tyrells. He works for Jacob. No. No, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t.
Think about it. This is why Caden was following you before we met. This is how he knew who you were.
Why didn’t he turn me in to Jacob? Why does he act like he cares for me? Why? This doesn’t make sense. My insides struggle in growing frustration to make these pieces fit. They don’t fit.
Or maybe I just don’t want to see the truth.
I snap out of my thoughts when I see the crane moving another container from the ship. I have to move. I’m still in danger here. I tuck my gun in my pants and climb over the edge. My feet and calves slip into the water. It’s cold and slimy and it smells putrid. I try not to think about what may be floating in it.
I wait for the bang. Come on. My fingers are now aching as I hang from them. I don’t think I can hang on for much longer.
Bang.
I let go and slide into the water. It’s too deep for me to stand. I start to swim along the docks, away from the ship, pulling and pushing myself off from the posts. My wet clothes are heavy and restrict my movements. I empty my pockets letting my useless torch and mobile phone float down into the depths of this river. I unhook the gun from my belt and let that go. I kick off my sneakers and they too fall away before I start off again.
I just stay focused on keeping my head above water and breathing and moving as fast and as silently as I can. If I think about anything else it’ll become too much. I pass the boundary into another lot. I keep going. And another lot and another lot. I keep swimming. My breath is heaving, but I keep pushing. Just a little further. A little further and you’ll be safe.
At the end of the docks it becomes marshy land. Somewhere in the tangles of that marsh, I drag myself up out of the water and roll onto my back on the bank. God, I need. A minute. Breathe. Just breathe.
I want to close my eyes and fall asleep, but I can’t. I won’t let myself stop. Not until I am safe.
“Come on,” I whisper to myself. “You’ve survived worse. Get up.”
I push myself to sitting, every muscle groaning from the exertion, then to standing. I pull myself through the brushes that edge the river and stumble to the street dripping wet, exhausted and starving with no money and no way of getting anywhere. What the hell do I do now?
I look around me. The area is quiet and the houses along the other side of the street look dark. I’m not even sure where to get to the main road from here. My spirits lift a little when I spot a phone booth like a beacon up the street. Who can I call? It’s probably past midnight now. I can only think of one person who would help me and would definitely still be up at this hour.
I pick up the phone and ask the operator to connect me via collect-call to Dixie’s bar. There is silence on the other end as the operator places me on hold. I lean against the glass of the booth because I barely have enough energy to stand. Please accept the call, Dixie, please.
“Hello?” Dixie’s voice crackles through the earpiece. Thank God. My heart floods with relief.
“Dixie, it’s me. I need your help.”
In my semi-conscious state I hear a car pull up near my head. I roll my face towards the noise and open my eyes with a groan. I see a large black tire followed by the cherry red door panels of a car. I hear a door open.
“Honey? Honey?” Dixie’s voice fills my ears. If I had any energy left I would cry. “Oh my Lord.” I hear her shoes clopping around towards me. I groan again and sit up. My head spins.
Dixie falls down at my side and wraps the huge towel she was carrying around me. She holds me there in a tight hug and I let my head fall onto her shoulder. “Thank you, Dixie,” I whisper.
She pulls back, holding me by the shoulder, her eyes glossy with concern, “What happened to you?”
“I went for a swim.”
She snorts. “No kiddin’.” She watches me for a moment, obviously waiting to see if I will elaborate. I don’t. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere dry and warm.”
I nod and let her help me to my feet.
In the Jeep we are silent. Dixie keeps glancing over at me out of the corner of her eye. I brace myself for what I know is coming, and it does: “You gonna tell me what kinda trouble you’re in?”
I swallow hard. She deserves some sort of explanation but… what do I tell her without putting her in danger, too? “I… can’t. I’m sorry.”
She lets out a long huff. “You know, you can’t go about life just relying on your own self. People care about you and want to help.”
I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I’m so tired. I don’t want to fight. I’ve run out of lies. “I’m not keeping it from you ‘cause I want to be some kind of martyr. If I thought you could help I would tell you, but you can’t… no one can.”
“Try me.”
“Please, Dix, just let it go. I don’t want to put you in any kind of danger.”
“Shit. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
I nod.
She is quiet the rest of the drive back to her apartment above the bar. It’s past one, so the bar is closed. Jeff is waiting up for us upstairs, pacing in the living room when I enter. He gives me a worried look and a quick hug when he sees me.
“You look like a drowned rat.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He smiles a little. “You make a cute drowned rat, though.”
I don’t have the energy to punch him, so I settle for sticking out my tongue.
“Alright, buster,” Dixie says coming in behind me. “Why don’t you heat up some leftover dinner for her and I’ll get her settled.” Jeff salutes her and walks into another room, I assume the kitchen.
“I can’t stay.”
“Why the hell not?” She places her hands on her hips as she turns to face me.
“I just need to shower then I have to leave.”
She stares at me and I can see that brain of hers whirring. Finally she says, “You’re not coming back, are you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the prickle of tears. No, I’m not coming back. I can’t. I shake my head. I feel her hand on my shoulder and I open my eyes.
“You said your car is gone. How you gonna get out of here?”
“I’ll find a used car lot tomorrow. Buy something cheap.”
“Well ain’t nothing gonna be open till the morning, honey. So you might as well stay till then, okay? You need at least a few hours’ sleep.”
“She can sleep in my bed with me,” Jeff yells from the kitchen.
“You’ll be sleeping on the street if you don’t watch yourself,” Dixie yells back. No more noise comes from the kitchen. She turns back to me. “The couch is plenty comfy, or I’m sure Jeff won’t mind if you took his bed and he can take the couch for the night.”
“I’m not going to kick any
one out of their bed.”
“So couch it is.” She nods with a smug smile. I exhale when I realize how I was just manipulated into staying. “You got enough money to keep you going?”
Shit. Most of my cash is in my apartment and the rest is under that slip of carpet in my car. I can’t go back to my apartment. It’s too risky. Cade knows where that is. So… I have nothing. No cash. No clothes. Nothing. I swallow.
“Don’t I owe you your last paycheck?” she says. “From memory it’s about $300. You have a shower and I’ll get that money for you.”
She turns away. I grab at her and envelop her in a hug. My throat is all stuck together, so I can’t speak to say thank you. I hope she can feel it. She pats my arm before pointing me in the direction of her bathroom.
I feel a hundred times better after a shower and some leftover stew. Dixie lends me some of her old clothes: faded grey tracksuit bottoms that are loose on my hips and legs and a bright pink off-the-shoulder workout shirt that shows off too much stomach. She also gives me an old backpack to use.
Jeff has class in the morning, so he has gone back to bed. It’s just Dixie and me in the living room. It’s a mishmash of different furniture and colors, but it feels cozy and homey. She gives me a spare pillow and blanket for the couch.
“I’ll probably be gone before you wake up,” I say. I can barely look at her.
“Shit, hon. I’m gonna miss you. So will the boys.”
“I’ll miss you, too. When you tell Jeff and Robert that I’ve gone – maybe in a few days – tell them I said goodbye?”
“I will. Here.” She shoves an envelope in my hand. Inside, I count over $600.
I frown. “I thought you said my paycheck was only $300.”
She pouts. “Call the rest of it a goodbye present.”
“I can’t accept−”
“Oh, hush now.” She waves a manicured hand at me. “Yes, you can. I own that damn bar, I can do what I want with the money. Oh, honey…” She hugs me tight and it squeezes a tear out of me.