by Ally Vance
Throwing them open, I take a deep breath of clean, fresh air before turning my attention towards the bed. I rush over to it and drag the mattress across the room to the open windows. Esme helps me lift it, and together, we manage to force it through the window frame, and it falls to the ground with a thud. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than being slowly cooked alive by the fire that’s now consuming Esme’s house.
“Do you trust me?” I question urgently, looking deep into her eyes.
She hesitates, but nods, “I trust you to save my life.”
Good enough. I lift her up and reaching out of the window with her in my arms, I look down to see where the mattress has landed.
“I’m here, Uncle,” Quinlan calls up. “Let her go. I've got her.”
Praying for a miracle, I release her. Esme drops with a high-pitched scream, and Quinlan groans, then shouts up, “I've got her. Come on!”
I glance once behind me, the fire has almost reached the window where I’m standing, and the heat is unbearable. I climb on the ledge and peer down into the darkness before closing my eyes and taking a leap of faith. Air rushes past me as I fall. I land safely on the mattress, but it’s not quite enough to cushion the impact from the concrete beneath. Getting slowly to my feet, the left side of my body throbs dully, and I know I’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow. Rain is still coming down in sheets, soaking my already wet clothes, but a little water is better than the fate that could’ve so easily been mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Esme
As I stand being slowly soaked by the rain, I realise it’s Quinlan I’m clutching onto while watching my home go up in flames.
“Take her back to my house,” Frollo orders his nephew.
“No!” I sob, trying to free myself from Quinlan’s arms when he starts to pull me over to the car.
“Oh, and don’t get any funny ideas,” Frollo threatens, and I look up in time to see Quinlan roll his eyes as he nods.
“Fine,” he bites out, before turning to me. “Come on.” I shake my head and refuse to move. “Look, I’m not going to do anything to hurt you, but we need to get out of here,” he says through gritted teeth and releases me.
“Like I’m going to believe that,” I scoff, “Because of you, I nearly burned to death in my own home, tied to my bed.”
“The fire wasn’t my fault. A candle fell over in the downstairs hallway, and the carpet caught alight.”
“I don’t care how it started. I don’t trust you, and I’m not going anywhere with either of you,” I reply stubbornly, standing my ground.
“Get her out of here. I don’t care how,” Frollo calls over, glaring at the two of us, and my mouth drops open, ready to protest.
I take a step back, putting some distance between myself and the two men who seem so desperate to make me theirs. I don’t want any part of this. I need to break this ridiculous hold they have over me, particularly Frollo. I ignore the pang twisting in my stomach at the thought of leaving. I've nothing left and nowhere else to go. Every last one of my belongings is inside the house currently burning in front of my eyes.
I spin on my heel and start to run, blocking out the shouts from Quinlan and Frollo that follow me, calling me back. I dart into the woods, and using the thicket of trees for cover, I run until I know they’re unable to see me, and I can no longer hear the crunching of leaves and twigs behind me as they follow in pursuit. I need to avoid them both long enough to escape from them for good. I consider going into town and finding the local police station to report them, but who’d believe the outsider, the newcomer and outcast, as opposed to the pastor and his nephew? I let out a heavy sigh. I know they’d never listen to me, and besides, what proof do I have?
The rain is falling steadily, and I can hear the patter of raindrops hitting the leaves. Every now and then, small droplets seep through the canopy above me, dripping onto my skin and clothes. My only regret is that I don't have any shoes. I didn’t exactly think this through; all I wanted was to put as much space between me and them as possible. This whole fleeing thing wouldn’t be so bad if only I had some proper footwear, but as it is, my feet are now freezing, my socks are muddy and ruined by the woodland floor, and I’m thoroughly damp and miserable.
I can hear the sirens behind me. No doubt, it’s the fire crew on their way to extinguish the flames engulfing my house. I seem to have evaded Quinlan, and knowing I can’t stay here in the wood all night, I trudge back through the trees, gauging the direction I need to move in as best I can. Shivers make my body tremble, and I wrap my arms around myself and rub my palms up and down my sides, trying my best to warm up.
Breaking through the boundary of the woods, I step out onto the pavement and realise I've emerged a little farther down the street from my house. I can see the fire engine and Frollo’s car still sitting at the curb. I watch while the fire crew work to put out the fire and Frollo speaks to one of them. I can’t see Quinlan, though, so I’m guessing he’s either gone home or is still looking for me. I glance nervously over my shoulder into the trees, but I don’t see any movement, and I can’t hear anything apart from the firemen shouting by my house and the sound of the hoses surging water on the flaming building. Even though I’ve only been living here a few weeks, my heart tugs painfully at the loss of my home. I don’t know how long I stand watching, but eventually, the fire is extinguished, and the fire crew begin packing up their equipment. The flashing lights on top of the truck illuminate both the road and the smouldering remains of my house, and a tear rolls down my cheek.
The street-lamps flicker and come to life with a burst of light, momentarily blinding me and I blink rapidly in the sudden brightness. Just as my eyes are finally adjusting, I hear a sound behind me, and turning to stare into the darkness, my heart stutters in my chest when my gaze locks with Quinlan’s. Even in the low light, I can see the anger mixed with lust burning in his eyes, and the same conflict is evident in the expression on his face.
His head is bowed slightly in my direction, and a prickle of fear trickles like ice through my blood. I shiver, but this time it’s not with cold; it’s a weird and unnerving mixture of terror and anticipation. In that long moment I stare at him, transfixed, I’m hit with the unwavering promise in his eyes that I’ll never escape him. I can run, but I’ll never be truly free of the unrelenting pull and disturbingly dark allure of Quinlan Matthews and Pastor Frollo.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Quinlan
I can just about make her out from my position a few feet behind her. She's standing on the pavement just beyond the tree line. My heart pounds in my chest from the chase. The hunt has set my blood pumping, and I can practically feel it rush around my body.
As I squint through the darkness, the streetlights come to life, and I blink rapidly to readjust to the sudden illumination. My vision blurs, and the colours are duller than usual; it’s as though someone has turned the world I’m seeing into a faded, out of focus watercolour. I hate when this happens, but considering the thumping in my head from the blow I took earlier, it’s not surprising I’m suffering the side-effects now.
For as long as I can remember, I've had trouble seeing clearly. When I was young I was diagnosed as visually impaired, but thankfully, not to the degree where I’m legally blind, although it’s gradually becoming a distinct possibility for me. No amount of treatment or medication can repair the eyes I was born with. It’s something I’ve learned to live with. However, my eyesight being more impaired than usual at the moment really sucks.
I lean against a tree, supporting myself while I try to see through the fog in front of my eyes. I underestimated my uncle and just how far he’d be willing to go for Esme, but I don’t think he intended to cause me any real harm. Shaking my head, I close my eyes to rest them for a few moments. When I finally open them again, most of the haze has lifted, but she's gone. I scan around frantically, squinting into the darkened gardens across the road, and take a step forwards onto solid ground.
Glancing
towards Esme’s house, I see the blaze has been extinguished, and I spy my uncle leaning against his car, watching the fire crew finish their work. No doubt feeling my eyes on him, he turns towards the trees and sees me lurking. Waving his hand, he beckons to me, and reluctantly, I make my way over to him.
When I reach him I raise my eyebrow quizzically, and he shakes his head.“She ran. But I knew I wasn’t going to be able catch up to her. I thought you’d have had more success than me. When did you lose her?”
“Maybe five minutes ago,” I hesitate, “My vision’s much worse than usual. I think I may have a concussion by the way. So thanks for that,” I finish sarcastically.
He has the grace to look guilty. “Sorry. I’m not sure what came over me.”
I let out a derisive snort. “Yes you do. It’s the same thing, or rather, it’s the same someone who’s also affecting all my decisions. The question is what are we going to do next?”
“Let’s get home first. We’ll discuss it then. I don’t think I’ll be much longer. Go wait in the car, and this time, don’t drive off with it, especially if you think you’ve got a concussion,” he scolds as he unlocks his vehicle.
I roll my eyes at him, and walking around to the front passenger side, I open the door and slide in. My aching body sags in the seat. Every part of me feels like I've been put through a damn wringer. I chuckle under my breath. Considering everything that’s happened in the past few days and hours, I've virtually been to hell and back, I muse.
By the time Frollo clambers into the driver’s side of the car with a tired sigh, I’m doing everything I can to stave off sleep. I’m not stupid; I know sleeping when I possibly have concussion would be foolish. Should I go to the hospital? Probably. I’m not going to, though. They’ll just tell me not to sleep, keep an eye on my symptoms, and take a painkiller if I’m in pain. This isn’t the first concussion I've ever had, so I know the drill.
The short drive back home is filled with a heavy unspoken silence that hangs between us in a thick fog of tension. Both of us too tuned in to our own thoughts to speak to one another, we sit there stewing on them the whole journey. The radio plays quietly in the background. The rock station surrounds us with faint drumbeats and guitar riffs, and I focus on the sound and rhythm, zoning in on something other than my thoughts.
Within a short while, Uncle Frollo pulls up onto his driveway and switches the engine off. We sit there without saying a word for several moments before he turns to look at me, a serious expression on his face.
“We’ve got to find her quickly. It's unlikely anyone around here would believe her if she told them what we did, but we can’t run the risk that someone might decide to investigate further. We need to fix this and make sure nothing can implicate us. Tomorrow, after we’ve both had some rest, we need to repair the door to the church clock tower, and then either you or I need to speak to Lillian. We need to do some damage control because if Lillian or Esme decides to talk, we’re fucked,” he says, his tone sounding worried.
His concern is evident, and my stomach twists with nerves. “Any ideas as to where Esme might go?”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s what worries me. I've no idea where to begin searching. How about you?”
“No. She never spoke about anything like that. She never mentioned any places she'd been in the past or where she came from. I had the impression she'd been compelled to leave the last place she lived, but she never elaborated on the reason for that. She's spoken about exploring the woods a few times, but she knows we’d search there, and at this time of night, they’d be too cold and damp,” I tell him, reaching up to rub the back of my neck in frustration.
“Well, one of us should comb through the woods anyway, just in case. They aren’t that extensive, so it won’t take a huge amount of time,” he says thoughtfully.
A tap on the driver’s side window makes us jump in surprise, and both of us laugh, easing the tension and making things feel almost normal between us.
Frollo presses a button on the door and the window slowly lowers with a small squeak. I frown when I see that it’s Lillian, and her expression twists with a scowl when she sees me sitting in the car.
“I saw you dragging that girl into the house, Quinlan. She better be okay,” she threatens, having checked the back seat, presumably for Esme, and seen it’s empty.
“She's fine. It was a misunderstanding,” I reassure her. “There was a fire in her house, but she wasn’t hurt, and your house is safe too. She's gone to stay with a friend,” I lie quickly, hoping to cover up the distinct lack of Esme’s presence.
Lillian’s expression softens, and she nods at me, apparently satisfied by my answer, before turning to my uncle. “Can you drive me home now, please?”
“Sure,” he answers. “Did you call your dad?”
Lillian’s back straightens, and her response is terse. “I told you, I don’t need to tell him my whereabouts every time I leave the house.”
“I’m going to go and lie down,” I tell them, unclipping the seatbelt and getting out of the car. “Night, Lillian.”
“Night,” she replies.
Leaving the passenger door open for her, I step away from the car. As she moves towards me, she passes in front of the headlights, which illuminate her more clearly, and I can see the baby bump protruding from her small frame. I’m hit by a sudden, powerful wave of desire when an image of Esme pregnant flashes across my mind.
I head towards the house, breathing hard as I try to calm the visceral physical response to the thought of how Esme would look carrying my child in her body. I’m going to find her, I’m going to get her back, and when I do, I’ll fill her with cum until my child is growing in her belly…maybe even more than one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Esme
I wait in my unsuspecting neighbour’s front garden, hidden behind the fence dividing our properties. Tears fill my eyes, but I’m not sure if it’s from the smoke and heat, or the state of my home. I blew all my savings on the now smouldering remains. The damage appears to be fixable. Thankfully, it didn’t burn right to the ground, but the interior is in ruins, and I’m sure all of my possessions have been destroyed. I've nowhere else to go, and even if I did, I’d have no way of getting there.
Once everyone’s gone, and the street is quiet, I emerge from behind the fence and stare at what’s left of my home. Biting my lip, I turn and face my neighbour’s house. Maybe they’ll be kind-hearted enough to let me stay the night, considering my circumstances. I’m sure they must have heard the sirens and seen the fire blazing. I try to come up with an alternative plan, but I fall short of finding a better idea.
Inhaling deeply and swallowing my nerves, I head towards my neighbour’s house, but before I've taken more than a step, I’m blinded by a set of headlights as a car drives down the street. Squinting in the harsh light, I continue making my way to my neighbour’s front door. My hands are balled into fists at my side, and I’m shaking with a mixture of nerves and the chill of the night now seeping through my clothing.
The car pulls up at the curb, just as I’m about to knock on the door, and I glance at it over my shoulder. My stomach drops when I recognise the vehicle idling in the street. As I watch in fear from the shadows of the neighbour’s porch, a young woman climbs awkwardly out of the passenger seat, and when she straightens up, I realise she's heavily pregnant.
“Thank you, Pastor Frollo,” I hear her soft voice trill, and my whole body tenses at hearing his name.
I feel an urge to face him, but I squash it down. I’m thankful for the porch obscuring me from his line of sight. With or without a witness present, I’m sure he’d try to charm me into going back to his house, and the foolish girl that I am, I’d probably listen. For some inexplicable reason, I can’t seem to shake the effect he has on me.
I force myself to remain in place, refusing to move in case he sees me. Light footsteps approach, and I let out a sigh of relief when the car pulls away. The young woman stops
when she sees me standing beside her front door, practically plastered to one side of her porch. Her eyes narrow and then widen as her mouth drops open.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, gaping at me.
“My name’s Esme and I live next door. As you can see, there’s been a really bad fire tonight, and now I don’t have anywhere to go. I’d try and get a room in town, but I don’t think anyone would take me at this time of night, especially considering I’m soaking wet. I was, um, wondering if maybe I could stay with you for the night,” I ask hesitantly.“I can arrange something else in the morning,” I add, nervously wringing my hands together.
“I’m Lillian. Come in, I’m sure my...my dad wouldn’t mind.”
“Thank you so much,” I tell her, my voice thick with emotion, “I wasn’t sure what else to do.”
She fumbles in her pocket and pulls out a key. Opening the door, she steps inside and indicates for me to follow. Walking in, I shut the door behind me before trailing after her through the house.
“Wait here,” Lillian instructs, and in the bright light, I’m struck by how young she is.
She disappears into a room, leaving me standing in the hallway. After a few minutes, she returns.
“Let’s go upstairs. You can have my dad’s room. He doesn’t use it anymore, so it’s more like a guest room now, I guess,” Lillian offers, and her warm smile falters for a split second.
“Why doesn’t he use it anymore?”
Lillian gives me a sideways glance and leads me through the house. “He fell down the stairs and is now partially paralysed. He can’t walk anymore, so he uses a wheelchair. We had to convert the living room…” she trails off. “I have some clothes you can borrow if you like, and you can use our shower.”
“Yes please! I’m desperate to get out of these wet things,” I reply gratefully, already looking forward to being warm and dry.
I notice she doesn’t seem to like talking about her dad, and I guess I can understand that. The fall and his injuries must have had quite an impact on the family.