by Dori Lavelle
“Shhh… Stay here,” Owen said finally. “Don’t come out unless I come for you.” His words were firm, edged with ice. “I’ll be right back.” He rose from the mattress and stepped to the door. Before he could open it, it crashed against him, knocking him back with such force he hit the ground, along with the oil lamp. When he tried to get up, Alvin bludgeoned him in the head with the butt of his gun. He crumpled back down, eyes closed.
A scream poured out of me, even as I tried to hold it back by placing my hand over my mouth. The sound slipped right between my fingers. I wanted to go to Owen, to see if he was okay, but Alvin stood before me. His eyes held me in place.
“Time’s up. You’ve fucked with me way too many times.”
“Alvin, no, please.” I bent down on all fours and attempted to crawl away from him. The hut was too small for me to get far. One of his hands caught my shoulder in a vice, and the other pointed the gun to my head, pressing it into my temple.
“Fuck you, little bitch. You thought you could outrun me? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
I wanted to speak, to say something, anything to stop him from hurting me, but I couldn’t. I doubted words would work on him anyway.
“You’re coming with me.” He yanked me off the ground.
On our way out the door, his boot landed on Owen’s head. I kept my scream tucked inside my throat. If I let it out, he might decide to repay me by shooting Owen.
Outside, before I got a chance to see the damage Alvin had done, he planted a hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me forward. My face crashed into the ground. Pain split my head. The metallic tang on my tongue was unmistakable. I breathed in dust as I lifted my head a few inches, looking for some way, any way, to escape.
Around me, people ran. I craned my head to the side and wished I hadn’t. The hut that Jeordi, Ingrid, and Anna used as their bedroom burst into flames before my eyes.
The sob inside my throat ached as though it were a rock I had been forced to swallow.
When I caught sight of a man sprawled face down on the ground next to the dying fire, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I could not see his face, but it didn’t matter who he was. I had caused yet another death. I was poisonous to be around.
I pulled myself up on my hands and knees again and crawled away blindly. Alvin’s boot landed in the middle of my back. The ground beneath my chest knocked the wind from my lungs. Before I could refill them and recover from the pain in my head and chest, he wrapped my braided hair around his hand and hauled me behind him.
Yesterday evening, when I’d had a moment to breathe, to hear myself think, to hope a little, Ingrid had helped me wash my hair. She’d worked part-time as a hair stylist in Germany.
The feeling of warm water on my scalp; the gentle, refreshing sting of peppermint shampoo; and the soft touch of Ingrid’s fingers had felt so good. Afterward she had pulled my hair into a thick braid. I had enjoyed every second of being pampered. But like every good moment in my life since Alvin had revealed himself, it had come and gone too soon, like a whisper, a breath. Like many others before it, it had been fragile, unreliable, soon forgotten.
Now Alvin held onto my braid as though it were a rope that connected us. The good feelings from the memory were gone.
He hauled me past the fire, past the person on the ground.
Anguish rocked my body. We had promised not to bring Jeordi and his family trouble. We’d brought them more than that. We’d brought them death.
Someone shouted, but while my mind tried to determine who the voice belonged to, a gunshot cut it off. Did Alvin kill the person yelling? Maybe the best thing for me to do was quit fighting and allow myself to be taken away before I caused anyone more pain. Alvin was determined to walk away with his prize, and would kill anyone who dared stand in the way.
In the early morning, the sky was fully awake, its brightness mocking me, the foolish woman who thought she was fast enough to run from a man as angry, as determined, as sick as Alvin Jones. A man with nothing to lose.
The ground beneath me was bumpy like a turtle’s shell. The friction between it and my body tore, broke, and ripped open wounds that were finally on the verge of healing. The person who had inflicted them had returned to ensure the pain remained. Like everything else, it seemed, the ground was yet another of Alvin’s weapons. Just like my hair.
The movement of my body on the ground disturbed clouds of dust that rose and fell in slow motion, drifting into my mouth and nose, turning my screams into coughs and sneezing fits.
A sharp, naked rock sliced through the thin fabric of my wrap dress and tore into the flesh on my back, hurting me as Alvin wanted it to, a committed soldier of the angel of death. The sudden pain was white-hot and mind-numbing. I could not see the blood oozing out of the cut, but I imagined it leaving my body and marking the soil on Jeordi’s land, an eternal reminder of the bad decisions I’d made that led to my painful death.
He squeezed my braid and picked up pace. I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming again. All my screams so far had fallen on deaf ears.
Quit, my little voice said. It’s over. You won’t survive this.
It was right. I was better off dead than alive.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We reached the trail between the cannabis plants, the one Owen and I had traveled with Jeordi.
Alvin was talking, his words floating on the wind and then falling to the ground, where they were swallowed by the thud of his footfalls.
I caught some of the words before they fell, the ones I was meant to hear—the ones his tongue had sharpened so they sliced through my heart with ease.
“Fuckin’ slut… stupid bitch… fool… pay with blood…”
Sentences didn’t matter. The intended message reached me loud and clear. I’d heard enough. Squeezing my eyes shut, I listened to the pounding of my heart instead, the rush of fear in my ears, the distant sounds of voices, the sea, birds singing. Until I heard louder voices—too loud to ignore.
Two voices. One belonged to Alvin—harsh, cold, and venomous. The other… God, the other belonged to Miles.
An argument ensued.
“You’ve hurt her enough,” Miles demanded. “You’ve done enough damage. It has to stop.”
My heart swelled and tears flooded my eyes and throat. Miles had come to save me.
“Fuck off, you good-for-nothing scum.”
“I’d be glad to, if you let her go. I swear, I won’t let you hurt her.”
As the argument simmered, my body was yanked from side to side. I felt like a piece of rope in a tug of war.
“What do you think I am? A coward, like you? Hurting her is just the beginning. I’ll carry out my plan. I’ll pound her ass one last time, kill her, and cut her body to pieces.”
Visions of my body being decapitated flashed through my mind. Something flickered, then burst to life inside my gut. Fire.
I couldn’t let him do that to me.
I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live long enough to see the sunset. I wanted to see Owen again. My desire to live was an adrenaline rush to every nerve in my body. It afforded me the strength to kick harder, scream louder, grab at his hands on my hair, and dig my nails into his flesh. I picked up rocks and broken sticks to slice his skin with.
I fought him until he let go, dropped me to the ground, and slammed his boot into my head with a loud grunt. The world turned from a mix of blue, green, and brown to black. To nothing.
We were still on Jeordi’s farm when I came to, fuzzy and confused, my head feeling like a construction site, the hammer-like blows still throbbing in my temples. I couldn’t have been out for long.
A soft groan rose up my throat when I blinked, but I swallowed it. He couldn’t know I was awake.
I needed to manage the pain and nausea before I could endure any more torture.
While I focused on being still, gazing up at the sky with blurry eyes, something bunched up under me as it was dragged along with my body.
I made sure not to make any drastic movements as I slid my hand under my lower back and pulled at the rough fabric.
It was the burlap sack Owen had dropped after Jeordi had surprised us.
I formed a fist around it, pretending that holding on to something familiar would keep me sane. The sack reminded me of Owen as I drifted further and further away from him.
Please let him be okay. Don’t let him die.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We had left Jeordi’s farm and were back on Alvin’s land, his territory, the scene of the crime. The place he had meant to be my final destination in the first place.
He had no idea I was no longer unconscious. Even though my scalp felt as though it were being peeled from my skull, I did my best to stay still. When he glanced down at me, my eyes were closed. Being still, pretending he had the power, helped me preserve my safety. Sooner or later he would find out, and the result would be devastating.
For now, I needed to gather my energy, or whatever was left of it. He no longer spoke—not to me, and not to Miles.
I opened my eyes and gazed up at the sky. It no longer looked as ominous as it had before.
This time, as I watched the few fluffy clouds floating across it, I thought of the people who loved me. My mother and the few friends I had. They all looked up at the same sky, wondering where I was, whether I was okay. They were thinking of me, praying for my return, loving me from a distance, giving me strength. I tried to draw comfort from that, fooling myself into believing I was not alone.
I needed their strength, whether to fight Alvin later, or to face death.
I closed my eyes again, ignoring the numbness in my back, and thought of my younger self. I watched her eyes: afraid, desperate, and anxious. The pain from the past returned—the pain of rejection, the need to belong. I remembered the days she had woken up dreading to go to school, because she didn’t want to be that girl, the one everybody overlooked.
The good always came with a price. My price had been too high, and had only served to double my feelings from back then. They came in so many different forms, but the worst, the deepest cut, was of betrayal.
The sound of something ripping pulled me out of my thoughts. I opened my eyes in time to see my wrap dress floating off with the wind, giving up on me. I wore nothing now but a pair of Ingrid’s cotton panties, brown with a cream trim. With one hand, I held on to the piece of fragile fabric, hanging on to what was left of my dignity.
A sad smile formed on my lips as I imagined seeing myself from the outside, the way the world would see me in a couple of hours. I saw myself on the covers of magazines and newspapers. In my mind’s eye, I read the articles.
Chloe Parker, owner of the magazine Sage, has found a tragic end. Her naked body was discovered in the jungles of Jamaica, where she had apparently been tortured, raped, and then murdered by Miles Durant, the man she had recently married.
Why did I even care what people would think? I would be dead. But those closest to me would get the heat. My mother would be devastated, and my friends would be ashamed to hear about the terrible decisions that had derailed my life. Maybe they would pretend they didn’t know me, turn their backs on the memories we’d shared.
My foot hit something hard and sharp. Another wound inflicted. My pain was white and red. White like my wedding dress, a stark reminder of what I had lost, a promise of the forever that had expired.
But there would be no roses, no throwing of the bouquet, no champagne. Only red. The red of my approaching death—dark, frightening, and final.
Red and white, two sides of the same coin of life. Two sides of the same fence. Good and evil, beauty and ugliness. Darkness and light. That was all I had left. I could focus on the light and turn my back on everything else. But that would be a dangerous game to play; once shattered, it could have devastating consequences. Perhaps it was best to turn my back to the light, to welcome the darkness that called for me. That way, I would be ready for the agony that would mark the end of my life.
The thoughts that swirled around my mind came to a halt again when Alvin stopped walking and dropped me to the ground.
I closed my eyes quickly, feeling his eyes on me. Then I heard him turn away, followed by the sound of flowing water. Curiosity forced me to open my eyes a fraction. Alvin was turned away from me as he urinated in the bushes.
I turned my head to the other side of the dirt trail. I considered getting to my feet and running for my life, but at that moment, I detected a movement in the brush. A scream froze inside my throat when I saw them—three snakes, a few inches apart from each other.
One of them looked exactly like the snake Owen and I had seen, while the other two were smaller and reddish in color. I had even more reason to stay still now. If I moved or made a sound, the snakes might strike.
My whole body tightened except for my hands, which were trembling, the burlap sack falling from my grip to the ground. My pulse shot up when one of the reddish snakes uncoiled itself and slithered in my direction. The other two disappeared into the darkness of the bushes. As fear and panic raged through me, I grappled for air.
In a moment, maybe Alvin would get what he wanted, though not in the way he had planned. Would it be better to die from a snake bite than to be tortured and killed by Alvin?
Through the rushing in my ears, I heard Alvin zip up his pants and buckle his belt.
Then the snake suddenly disappeared from my sight, as though it had slid underneath me. It took me a moment to realize it had disappeared inside the sack.
Ingrid’s words came to me. She had told me that something good could come out of a bad situation. Shoving my way past my fear of reptiles, I saw my something good. This was an opportunity. Before I could think, before fear could paralyze me again, I gripped the bag and drew the strings closed.
As Alvin grabbed my hair again and resumed hauling me along, I held tight to the bag, holding it as far away from my body as I possibly could. I focused on the moment when I would unleash the snake on Alvin.
I would be killing Miles as well, but there was no way to separate the two. In order to save myself, I would have no choice but to kill them both.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My head slammed against the ground again. He’d let me go.
He didn’t need to say a word for me to know we had reached our final destination. The chill that vibrated from deep within my body signaled danger.
He didn’t turn around immediately, but stood there, gazing into the distance, in the direction of the sea.
A flicker of hope touched my spine. What if Miles was back and he was afraid to turn around, to see the damage his other persona had done? What if he was afraid to look me in the eyes and see the pain?
No—I could not rely on hope. It also didn’t matter whether it was Miles or Alvin standing before me now.
I had to stick to my plan, to use the only weapon available to me.
The bag writhed as the snake tried to set itself free. I wanted to let it go, but something caused me to hesitate.
If I opened the bag, I had to be ready to die as well. The snake could end up biting me instead of my target.
Giving myself a little time to think, I placed the bag underneath the shade of one of the bushes, far enough that Alvin would not be able to see it at first.
I must have hesitated too long, because Alvin was turning toward me. His eyes landed on me. This time I did not pretend to be unconscious.
“That’s what I thought.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I knew you were awake.” He rolled his neck. “I’m tired, Kelly. I’m done playing games.”
I didn’t respond, just watched his empty eyes, studied his face.
The cuts and bruises, and the dirt on his face and hair proved the chase had not been easy on him either. He looked like a caveman. A glimmer of satisfaction flowed through me.
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and pointed a dirty finger at me. “I can’t wait to finish this and get back to m
y yacht for a bath and a good meal.” He smacked his lips “That’s something you’ll never have again. This island is where you’re going to die.”
I sat up, my back turned to the bush that concealed my secret weapon. I lifted my chin in defiance and held his gaze. “You can try to murder me, but I won’t make it easy.” I took a shaky breath. My hands curled into fists by my sides. “And just so you know, yesterday I talked to a proxy back in Boca Raton. I told him what you did to me, and about every murder you committed. I instructed him to hand all the information I have on you to the cops and the press. If you finish me, you will be finished too.”
To my surprise, something shifted inside his eyes. They started to sparkle, and then his shoulders slumped forward. His hands dropped to his sides, his fingers twitching. His lips trembled as though he wanted to tell me something.
Then Miles appeared.
“Forgive me, Chloe.” He brought his palms together. “I’m sorry for everything... for letting you get hurt. I can’t go to prison. I can’t.”
My hand clawed into the soft patch of soil next to me, my nails digging in, gripping the dirt. It was the only thing I could do. The conflict inside me was tearing me apart. I still wanted to protect Miles… but there was only one way out of my situation. The best thing I could do for Miles was prepare him.
“I’ve paid for my crimes. I’ve paid for the mistakes I made in childhood, and then some. I don't owe you or anybody anything. Not anymore.” My speech was meant for Alvin. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I spoke. “If the only way for me to set myself free is to kill you, that’s what I’ll do.”
Miles’s face crumpled. Pain flared in his eyes.
I couldn’t let my walls crumble now. I couldn’t let him in. Faced with a life-and-death situation, I had to leave our shared past behind. I had to pretend the good moments, the memories, and the love had never existed.
“I understand.” Miles raked a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re right. I probably deserve it for not protecting you from that part of myself.”