Shards of Us

by Caverly, KR

  "No," I say, shaking off the stupid lust I feel. I don't want Sebastian. I can't ever want him. Not after what he did. "Tell me."

  Sebastian smiles distantly, shakes his head. He's not wearing a tux anymore. Instead, he's dressed in a simple t-shirt and baggy shorts. They look odd on him, for some reason. They just… they don't feel right. "They're bad, bad men," he says, not taking his eyes off of mine. "That's all you need to know."

  "But you're friends with them," I press, wanting to catch him in the lie. "Right?" I'd seen enough crime shows to know that when bad men are after you, it's almost always because you were friends with them, then betrayed them.

  "Right," Sebastian says, watching me curiously.

  I sit up further. "You worked with them?"

  "Once upon a time I did, yes." I search his eyes to see if he's lying. He definitely doesn't seem to be, which surprises me, because there is no way he's telling the truth, right? My gaze drops down to his cheek, then latches on the scar he's always had beneath his eye. Realization hits me.

  "Do they involve that scar?" I ask, pointing at his cheek.

  For a second, Sebastian stiffens up. He looks almost unnerved by my question, or at least taken aback. I can't tell which. But then it's gone as quickly as it comes, and his face slips into an easy smile. "That's enough now, angel. We'll discuss this more later. Okay?"

  I take another bite of my eggs, but I don't respond.

  We sit there in silence for a while longer while I eat my breakfast. I listen to the steady sound of him breathing, watch the rise and fall of his chest, the way he doesn't take his eyes off me for a second as I eat. His gaze is searing, and I hate it, hate him. I keep eating, listening to the hum of the heater above me and letting everything else fade away.

  The room is dark, but peeps of morning light slip in under the door. If I listen hard enough, I can hear the chirp of birds above, too, and the steady patter of the night's rain falling down from their place in the trees. The whole place is peaceful, cut-off. I wonder where we are, why we're here, and if we'll ever get out. I wonder how Sebastian will know when these men will stop hunting him, or really who they are in the first place, if they're even real. I wonder why they want him, and more importantly, why they want me. I wonder what kind of connection Sebastian had to them. And then, I wonder where he got that scar from. I can tell, from the way he flinched when I mentioned it, that whatever it was, it wasn't pretty.

  I think about who Sebastian is--really is. If he's not lying, then clearly he got mixed up with some bad people, but what did he do? And why did he betray them? And if he is lying, what will he do to me? Kill me? Leave me here? Torture me? What? And then, I think about Ash, now dead because I wasn't there to help her.

  I push aside my plate it, my appetite evaporating. "Take it," I hiss.

  Sebastian takes it, but he looks concerned. Fuck him. "Are you okay, my angel?"

  "Stop calling me that," I say in a low voice.

  "Stop calling you what, angel?"

  My hands ball into a fast, and the anger starts pouring out of me. "Stop calling me that."

  I need to get out of here, I tell myself. I need to get out of here! Sebastian is not a good person. He's a fucking murderer. He killed those men. He kidnapped me. He let Ash die.

  I sit up, my stomach hurting. I can't take this. I need my old life back. I need to get beyond these walls. I need everything, but all I get is this--this prison--with the man who kidnapped me, the man who I used to think I loved.

  My alarm must be pretty obvious because the next thing I know Sebastian goes into protective mode, reaching a hand out and stroking my hair. I shove him off. "No, Sebastian. No."

  His forehead creases, and he looks genuinely worried. He's sure as hell a good faker. "Did I upset you?"

  I hate how kind he looks. How innocent he looks.

  A laugh bubbles out of me, one of those insane, throw-back-your-head kinds of laughs I've seen in movies. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I say, exasperated. "You locked me up here!"

  "That was to save you." His voice is still quiet, almost a growl.

  "I don't need to be saved."

  He looks into my eyes. His are fierce and intense, like they're latching onto mine and not letting go. "Yes," he says slowly, dragging out the word. "Yes, you do."

  "You don't--"

  But he doesn't let me finish. "Do you know why I know you need saving, angel?" he says, his voice rising, moving his face in closer to me. His lips are inches from mine, hot and heavy and so, so close. This close to him, I can feel his breath on my lips, the heat emanating from his body. "I know you need saving because you're like me!" Sebastian continues, his voice filling with rage. "We're both fucked up people. We're both shards of what we once were. We both need saving. We both need… we need… we need each other. We need each other to put back the shards of ourselves." He stops then, his voice rough and consuming, and every part of me feels numb with him this close to me. "These men… I can't let them hurt you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if they did, so I'm keeping you here to protect you from them." He drops his gaze, his hot breath right by my lips. "I love you, angel," he whispers, eyes burning into mine. "I've been broken so many times before. I just want to make you safe."

  In that instant, a part of me longs to believe him. A part of me sees how hurt he is, how much he cares about me, and wishes that the circumstances could be different, that none of this ever happened, that I could kiss him without it feeling so, so wrong. He is clearly a broken man, a man in love who doesn't know how to handle it, but at the same time, I won't let myself feel anything but disgust toward him.

  I hate him. I hate him and nothing can change that.

  So I shake my head, disbelieving, clenching my fists so hard. A tear threatens to fall from my eyes. "Who are you, Sebastian?" I whisper, my voice trembling all over.

  He stands up, looks away. He doesn't even meet my gaze. "I don't know, angel," he says at last. "I don't even know anymore."

  Then, he turns around and starts walking out of the room. His voice is sad as he calls back while unlocking the door, "I left lunch for you on the table and stocked up the bathroom with everything you'll need. Have a good night." And then he throws open the door, steps through, and slams it behind him, leaving me trapped in here once again.

  Chapter Seven

  Sebastian doesn’t return until dinnertime. I'd think he's pouting if I didn't know better, but I heard his car leave the house for a few hours, so I assume he's off to see if the men are coming.

  While he's gone, I spend my day looking for escape routes. Unfortunately, there are none. At all. The tiny window in the bathroom is blocked by prison bars, and the thick marble walls are so sturdy that even hitting them with a metal chair does nothing. I try the door, too, but it's also marble and totally solid, and without a wire of some sort I can't pick the lock. There is no way to break through the ceiling, and the solid marble floor is too hard to dig through.

  There is absolutely no way out, I realize to my absolute horror. The only way is unlocking the door with Sebastian's keys.

  Defeated, I slump back into my seat at the end of the table and eat the lunch he left me, feeling sick to my stomach the whole time.

  I wonder what my parents would say if they saw me now. Me. Their idiot daughter who fell for a man she didn’t even know, and is now here: locked up in someone else's safe house and possibly going to be killed or tortured herself.

  I am pathetic.

  No, I'm worse than pathetic. I wanted to love Sebastian so badly, wanted him to love me back, wanted to find happiness for once in my life that I just became too trusting, and then bam. This happened. And now I hate myself for it. I hate the world for not even giving me a little bit of happiness. I hate that the second I see a shred of goodness in my life, whenever I reach for it, I just fall deeper into this never-ending hole.

  My parents would be so disappointed. They were so successful when they were alive, loved by everyone as such grea
t sports agents, and look at me. I'm nobody. I can't even get a real job. I can't even have a real friend without it going bad. And now I'm paying for it. Without knowing what to do, I reach for the plate on the table and hurl it against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces, a few of which return to cut at my arm. When I see the blood, my legs go weak, and I just crumple up and cry some more.

  I feel so pathetic.

  So. fucking. pathetic.

  Sebastian returns a few hours later, after I've showered and cleaned myself up and covered up the dried tears. I sweep up the plate, fix my bed, and lie there for a while, looking up at the ceiling filled with various Ancient Greek-esque paintings, wondering if I'll ever get out of here.

  I'm still thinking that when I hear a click at the safe house door, and Sebastian steps inside. I sit up, watching him carefully, making sure he doesn't pull anything. The room is dark, but I can see the tired look in his eyes even from here, the way the dark circles are carved beneath him. He's been worrying, I realize. Worrying, for me.

  "Angel," he says. He's still wearing his dark suit and bowtie, and his dark hair is cropped back and freshly cleaned, like he just came from sort of business meeting or something.

  I don't respond as he approaches. Don't say hello or anything. I only glare at him, hoping he'll leave, but he doesn't. He walks all the way up to me, his blue eyes softer than ever, focused on me. He stops when he reaches my bed, breathing slowly in and out, looking down at me. I can feel his warmth wrapping me up, can feel his body right in front of mine. "How are you?" he says quietly after a few minutes.

  My muscles tense up.

  That's it. That's all he says. He stands over me in bed, his breath by my lips, asking me how I am. I open my mouth to laugh at him, but his voice sounds so genuine, so full of concern, that I don't have the heart to do it.

  I don't understand why he cares, but curiosity gets the best of me, so I decide to answer him. "Not well," I say, looking at my hands, and it's the truth.

  He shifts closer to me, resting his body on the edge of the bed. His eyes are still focused on mine, so warm and caring and worried it makes my heart hurt. His side is now inches from my face, the heat from his body pulsing through the air. I sit up and edge away from him, just to be safe.

  "I wish it didn't have to be like this, you know," Sebastian breathes, watching me sadly, as if he hates himself for making me distrust him so much. "I wish this wasn't my only choice."

  I don't say anything at that. I only look at him, searching his eyes to see if he's lying. Strangely, it doesn't feel like he is. I hate myself immediately for thinking it, though. I mean, he's just trying to trick me, right? He's just trying to gain my trust so he can screw me over later, isn't he? And as much as I want to believe that's the case, I know, deep down, that it isn't. I know Sebastian well enough to tell he is telling the truth.

  Sebastian reaches out a hand then, still looking at me, his fingers dangling by my hair. I flinch immediately, and he sighs. "May I, angel?" he asks softly, his voice filled with concern. I start to tell him no, to tell him to get the hell out of here, but the words refuse to come. My throat is too choked up, my voice too hurt from my screaming. So, I take a breath, and I nod.

  Sebastian looks at me knowing, then hesitates as he moves his fingers throughout my long hair, expertly touching me, guiding his way across my skin. Something about the way he rubs my hair is so calming, and it makes me want nothing more than to close my eyes and fall asleep to it, to him touching me.

  "Why are you doing this?" I ask at last. My voice is so quiet, so strained, it's like it isn't even there. "If you really are just trying to protect me from those men, why do you have to lock me up? Why don't you trust me enough to stay by your side?"

  He sighs at my question, but doesn't say anything. He just continues to run his fingers through my hair, with his breath on my lips, his side touching mine. I listen to the hum of the heater around me, to the distant chirping of birds just outside this safe house. I let myself relax with Sebastian this close to me, let myself breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. I know I shouldn't feel safe with him. I know I shouldn't trust him. But for whatever reason, I… I do. Or at least, I don't have the energy to fight him off right now.

  "I wish I knew the answer to that," Sebastian says at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I've learned that trust has nothing to do with it. People you love get hurt all the time, no matter what you do, no matter how much you plan. And I've lost so many people, angel. I've lost so much that I'm fucking sick and tired of seeing those I care about get hurt. I don't want that to happen to you too," he whispers. "So I'm just trying to keep you safe, through the only way I have left."

  There's a pause as soon as he says it, and I listen to the beat of my heart, to the longing in his voice. Sebastian doesn't move any closer to me, doesn't try to pull anything, which takes me off guard. He isn't even looking at me anymore. His eyes are focused on the door to the safe house, like they're the gateway into another dimension only he knows about. He just keeps running his hand through my hair, giving me my distance, sighing sadly. "I'll let you out as soon as you're safe, angel," he says after a while. "I promise you that much."

  Then he opens and closes his eyes and starts to stand up. The bed groans from the shift in weight, as Sebastian pulls off of it. He stands up and starts to brush his suit off, looking at me the whole time with those sad blue eyes of his. "I'm sorry," he whispers, shifting his jaw so he's looking directly at me. "I hope you know that I'm sorry."

  ***

  Sebastian leaves again the next day, this time for almost twelve hours. I don't do anything all day but lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, replaying our last conversation again and again in my head. As much as I wish it weren't true, a part of me is starting to believe Sebastian. A part of me realizes that he really does care about me, that in the end, he's just a broken man in love, a man who wants to protect me, wants to love me, but doesn't know how to show it. He's been hurt before; he's been hurt so much, that he doesn't want to take any chances on my safety.

  And I know I can't ever really be with him, can't ever really like him after he locked me up like this, but I still find myself feeling for him. I still find myself understanding him, or at least trying to, as much as I wish I wouldn't.

  I lie in bed all day, just thinking, just hoping, just longing for a way out.

  I don't move when I hear Sebastian's car pull up a few hours later. Or when the door flings open. Or when I hear his angry cursing. I don't move when he races right up to me, his eyes filled with need and hunger. I don't move as he wraps his arms around me and lifts me out of bed, then places me gently onto the ground beside him.

  Immediately, I step back. My body starts shaking. I know full well not to trust him. I keep my back pressed to the bed, ready to run in case he tries anything. "What are you doing?" I whisper cautiously, waiting for his reaction.

  Sebastian's eyes stay on mine as he whispers, "Something I should have done long ago." His voice is filled with need.

  I stop.

  Need… for me.

  He takes a step closer, not looking away. Heat radiates from his body and wraps around me, like I'm engulfed by flames, and as much as I should want to back away, to get the hell out of here, I can't. I just stand there, looking into his eyes, not knowing what to say. I'm rooted in the spot. Rooted… and a part of me would rather be nowhere else.

  "I need you to do something for me," he says in a low voice, his eyes searching mine, and in my mind I'm back in the hotel room, with his lips by my ear as he whispers his stories to me. "Do you think you can do that?"

  "What do you want?" I say quietly. I know fighting him is no use. I know I'm his prisoner, I know he's controlling me, and I know protests will help nothing.

  He takes a deep breath, not once taking his eyes off of mine. "I need you to dance for me, angel."

  I freeze. My eyes focus on his to see if he's lying. "Huh?"

  "Dance for me,"
he repeats, not hesitating for a second.

  I start protest. The doctors said I could never dance again, not without risking hurting my leg for good, and I'm sure as hell not dancing for Sebastian of all people. "No, I can't--"

  "I know you used to dance," he says. His voice is urgent, demanding. "And so I'm asking you, to dance for me just this once."

  I open my mouth to argue some more, but then I see the need in Sebastian's face and I know I can't say no. "Okay," I say softly. I hate myself so much for agreeing to it, but somehow, I don't want to fight this. I want to dance--I want to find a way to escape this place, even if it's only for a few seconds.

  "Good," he says, then holds up a CD player. "Which song?"

  "Swan Lake." I don't take my eyes off of his as his hands move to turn on the song. There's a click, and then the quiet melody fills the air.

  "Dance for me, my angel," Sebastian whispers again, and I look into his eyes, and I feel the tears glistening in mine, but I do, I do, I do. I move into the middle of the dark room under Sebastian's watchful gaze, and I dance. The song is slow and gradual, full of longing and need for escape, and I suspend my right hand over my head, close my eyes, and let everything else fade away. My legs arch forward, then swing in a circle, and then I'm spinning, feeling nothing but the air wrapping around my body and the beautiful, beautiful peace of it all. I lean my head back, then drift forward to Sebastian, my movements graceful and easy. Everything hums as I dance, and all of the pain and the fear and the tears from before seem to fade away.

  The tempo picks up, growing deeper and darker, and I find myself dancing faster, faster, faster. My body follows such simple movements, my legs propelling me forward and making me spin in a circle, my arms arched on either side of my body. I feel so relaxed when I'm dancing, and even in the dark room under Sebastian's watchful gaze, dancing frees me. Dancing makes me whole again.

  Finally, in between a spin, I look up to meet Sebastian's stare--just for a second. His blue eyes are filled with something deep and broken, trained on me, and suddenly all I want is to be near him again.