by W Winters
I struggle to calm myself and somehow I do. Maybe it’s because I don’t really believe him. I don’t believe it’s hopeless. My mother will find me, and she’ll make that man pay for what he’s done. Both to me and to this boy. I know she will.
“What’s your name?” I ask to keep him from leaving me as he turns. I lick my lips, tasting the salty tears and wiping my cheeks. I don’t want to cry. I want to get out of here.
“J-” he starts to answer me, but we both whip around and face the door as it opens, silencing us and making me instinctively back away.
I grab onto the boy’s arm and force myself behind him. I don’t know a thing about him and the look he gives me nearly makes me run from both him and the man stalking into the room, but I don’t get the chance. The boy grips my wrist with his other hand and pulls me closer to him, my front to his back and my back to the wall. He keeps himself deliberately positioned in between me and the man.
It’s only when I grab onto the boy, my small fingers digging into the rough denim of his jeans at his hip and my cheek pressed against his back, that he lets go of me.
* * *
The boy may scare me some, but the man terrifies me.
Chapter 5
That night
“I want to go home,” the girl whimpers. Her wide doe eyes dart from mine every time I look at her. We’re on opposite sides of the room, and that’s how it’s been since I came back. That’s all she keeps saying as she’s bundled up in the corner and crying.
She’s terrified, and has every right to be. But after what my father’s done to me, I don’t want to look at her. Partly out of shame. Partly out of hate. I was only gone for an hour, but an hour is enough.
He did it on purpose. Taking me the moment she woke up, and showing her how easily he can break me. He knew what he was doing, and it worked. And I did nothing to stop him. No fight in me… for her. And now, I can’t even look at her.
I can feel the bags under my eyes, the desperate need for sleep. But I can’t. Not with her here and not knowing what my father will do next. I force my dry throat to swallow, the pain still present and lean my head against the cold wall as I stare at the door. Sleep’s come easily to me this past week when I had nothing left to give, but I won’t let it take me now.
“Please, can you just tell him to let me go?” she asks weakly. I can see her lean forward slightly, hesitant and praying for mercy from me. But I can’t do anything for her. I’m so fucking helpless, and it only makes me angrier. Doesn’t she know I’m pathetic? My father made sure to show her as much.
“I just want to-”
“Stop it,” I tell her harshly and hate myself even more. I glare at her, ready to tell her how she needs to be quiet. How there’s no way out and that her crying is only going to piss me off, but then I see how glossy her eyes are, how her lips are turned down in a way that makes her seem even more vulnerable.
My heart beats in a weird way, like it’s skipping instead of beating. It hurts and my stomach churns with a sickness at who I am. Who I’ve become. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be this person.
“Jay,” she says and I look up at her. Her voice is soft. It doesn’t matter how angry she is with me or I with her, we’re all each other has.
I stare at her, waiting for her to say something, but the tears fall down her cheeks. They don’t even require her to blink.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. Her voice is hoarse and her shoulders crumple inward. My blood rings with adrenaline to move, to go to her and cradle her in her arms. But I don’t want her to touch me back.
“I said I’d look out for you, right?” I ask her. Offering her a small smile. It’s not genuine in the least, but I try. I mean it. I will look out for her. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I know she didn’t do a damn thing wrong. “I won’t let him hurt you,” I tell her.
“How could he not?” she asks in a murmur and her voice cracks at the end. “He’s a bad man,” she says and then licks the tears from her lips. “Bad men do bad things.” She wraps her arms around herself and then looks back at me with an expression I can’t place.
My skin heats, every inch of it feeling like it’s on fire. “I’m here,” I tell her simply.
“Hold me please,” she pleads with me, wiping the tears from her eyes and looking away. “I’m just scared and I need…” she shakes her head, not finishing her thought.
“You need to sleep,” I say, finishing it for her and she whips her eyes to mine. There’s nothing but fear in hers. Her body is stiff and she slowly looks at the door.
“I’m here,” I tell her softly and offer a hand out to her. I don’t know why I do, I shouldn’t. But she’s quick to crawl across the cement floor to me. She drags the blanket with her and glances at the door as she comes over to sit next to me. I keep my distance when her knee bumps into mine. I scoot away, keeping a gap between the two of us.
The look on her face is like I smacked her, and she immediately withdraws. “I don’t like to be touched,” I tell her with a tense jaw.
Her head lowers and she slowly pulls and tucks the blanket around her. She hesitantly offers a bit of it to me, which makes my lips tug up into a smirk and I shake my head.
I don’t want to be anything close to warm. The chill keeps me up at night. I nestle my back against the wall and stare straight ahead. She’s close, and hopefully feeling better, but there’s not much else I can do for now. I’ve already started calculating a way to sneak her out. If we both run, he can’t get us both. I just need a chance. How many times have I prayed for just that, only to go unheard?
But Robin isn’t tainted like me. Maybe fate will have mercy on her.
“Sorry,” she barely whispers the word and my eyes are drawn to her as she huddles under the blanket. She doesn’t look at me as I ask, “For what?”
“I didn’t mean to touch you, it’s just so cold,” she answers weakly.
I stare at her a moment, only because it doesn’t feel cold to me really. A little chilly, but then again, maybe she’s not used to this. I snort a humorless laugh, a huff really at the thought and that gets her attention.
When she looks up, her eyes dart to the rip in my shirt.
My father did that on purpose, too. She slowly reaches her hand up and I grab her wrist, my fingers wrapping easily around her as a small gasp comes from her lips. “Don’t,” I warn her, my heart beating wildly.
Her eyes look back down, past the tattered cotton and at the smattering of scars.
“What happened?” she asks me with sadness so evident in her voice.
I want to shove her off my lap, to leave her in this filthy cell. But I don’t. Instead I stay perfectly still until I can lower her arm back down. If I leave her, I have nothing.
She’ll judge me. Pity me. And use me.
But I need her. Without her, I have nothing.
My eyes drift to the cement floor. I should tell her that I don’t know how to really help her. But I can’t.
“I want to leave, Jay,” she says and her eyes beg me as well and I want to tell her I’ll find a way. But I’ll never lie to her.
“I do too,” I tell her the truth. I can give her a small bit of it.
If I can find a way, I’ll make sure she gets out of here.
I swear to it. I’ll do whatever it takes.
It’s the only thing I have to live for anymore.
Prologue
Robin
I can wait here longer than he can stand to stay away. I know that much.
A small grin pulls at my lips as I pick at the thread on the comforter. Always picking and waiting. There’s nothing else to do in this room.
My head lifts at the thought, drawing my eyes to the blinking red light. And he’s always watching. The sight of the camera makes my stomach churn, but only for a moment.
The sound of heavy boot steps walking down the stairs outside the closed door makes my heart race. I stare at the doorknob, willing it to turn and bri
ng him to me.
I’ve waited too long for him.
The sound of the door opening is foreboding. If anyone other than me was waiting for him, I’d assume they’d have terror in their hearts. But I know him. I understand it all. The pain, the guilt. I know firsthand what it’s like when the monster is gone and you only have your own thoughts to fight. Your memories and regrets. It’s all-consuming.
And there’s no one who can understand you. No one you trust, whose words you can believe are genuine and not just disguised pity.
But he knows me, and I know him. Far too well; our pain is shared.
His broad shoulders fill the doorway and his dark eyes meet mine instantly. He barely touches the door and it closes behind him with a loud click that’s only a hair softer than my wildly beating heart.
It’s hard to swallow, but I do. And I ignore the heat, the quickened breath. I push it all down as he walks toward me, closing the space with one heavy step at a time.
He stops in front of me, but doesn’t hesitate to cup my chin in his large hand and I lean into his comforting touch. I know to keep my own hands down though and I grip the comforter instead of him.
It’s a violent pain that rips through me, knowing how scarred he is. So much so, that I have to hold back everything. I’m afraid of my words, my touch. He’s so close to being broken beyond repair and I only want to save him, but I don’t know how.
We’re both damaged, but the tortured soul in front of me makes me feel everything. He makes me want to live and heal his tormented soul. But how can I, when I’m the one who broke him by running away?
“My little bird,” he whispers and it reminds me of when we were children. When we were trapped together.
He’s not the boy who protected me.
He’s not the boy whose eyes were filled with a darkness barely tempered with guilt.
He’s not the boy I betrayed the moment I had a chance.
He’s a man who’s taking what he wants.
* * *
And that’s me.
Chapter 1
Robin
One week before
“Doctor Everly?” a soft voice calls out, breaking me from my distant thoughts as another early spring chill whips through my thin jacket and sends goosebumps down my body. I slowly turn my head to Karen. Her cheeks are a little too pink from a combination of the harsh wind and a heavy-handed application of blush, and the tip of her nose is a bright red.
I grip my thin jacket closer, huddling in it as if it can protect me from the brutal weather. It’s too damn cold for spring, but I suppose I’d rather be cold and uncomfortable out here. Today especially.
I give Karen a tight smile, although I don’t know why. It’s not polite to smile out here, or is it? “How are you doing?” I ask her as she walks closer to me.
She nods her head, taking in a breath and looking past me at the pile of freshly upturned dirt. “It hurts still. It’s just so sad.” Karen’s only twenty-three, fresh out of college and new to this. I’m new to it too. Marie was the first patient I’ve had who killed herself.
Sad isn’t the right word for it. Devastating doesn’t even begin to describe what it feels like when a young girl in your care decides her life is no longer worth living.
I clear my throat and turn on the grass to face her. The thin heels of my shoes sink into the soft ground, and I have to balance myself carefully just to stand upright.
“It is,” I tell Karen, not sure what else to say.
“How do you handle…” her voice drifts off.
I don’t know how to answer her. My lips part and I shake my head, but no words come out.
“I’m so sorry, Robin,” she says and Karen’s voice is strong and genuine. She knows how much Marie meant to me. But it wasn’t enough.
I try to give her an appreciative smile, but I can’t. Instead, I clear my tight throat and nod once, looking back to where Marie’s buried.
“Are you okay?” she asks me cautiously, resting a hand on my arm, trying to comfort me. And I do what I shouldn’t. I lie.
“I’m okay,” I tell her softly, reaching up to squeeze her hand.
As I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a gust of wind flies by us and a bolt of lightning splits the sky into pieces, followed a few seconds later with the hard crack of thunder.
Karen looks up, and in an instant the light gray clouds darken and cue the storm to set in. It’s only the two of us left here and it looks like the weather won’t have us here any longer, leaving Marie all alone. I think deep inside that’s how she wanted it all along. She didn’t want a shrink to give her advice.
Who was I to help her? The guilt washes through me and the back of my eyes prick with unshed tears as I take in a shuddering breath, shoving my hands in my pockets and turning back to her grave.
As much as I’d like to believe I’ll let her rest now, I know I’ll be back. It’s selfish of me. She just wanted to be left alone. She needed that so her past could fade into the background. I know that now; I wish I knew it then.
“She’s in a better place,” Karen whispers and my gaze whips up to hers. She doesn’t have the decency to look me in the eyes and I have to wonder if she just said the words because she thinks they’re appropriate. Like it’s something meant to be said when talking of the dead, or maybe she really believes it.
Karen turns to walk toward her car as the sprinkling of rain starts to fall onto us. She looks back over her shoulder, waiting for me and I relent, joining her.
I’m sorry, Marie.
As the cold drops of rain turn to sheets and my hair dampens, my pace picks up. It doesn’t take long until we’re both jogging through the grass and then onto the pavement of the parking lot, our heels clicking and clacking on the pavement with the sound of the rain.
I barely hear her say goodbye and manage a wave behind me as I open my car door and sink into the driver seat.
I just wanted to help Marie. I could see so much of myself in her. We were almost the same age. She had the same look in her eyes. The same helplessness and lack of self-worth. I wanted to save her like my psychiatrist saved me.
But how could I? I’m not over my past. I should have known better. I should have referred her to someone more capable. Someone who had less emotional investment. I pushed too hard. It’s my fault.
The pattering of rain on the car roof is eerily rhythmic as I dig through my purse, shivering and shoving the wet hair out of my face. The keys jingle as I shove them into the ignition, turning on the car and filling the cabin with the sounds of the radio.
I’m not sure what song’s on but I don’t care because I’m quick to turn the radio off. To get back to the silence and the peace of the rainfall. I slump in my seat, staring at the temperature gauge. When I look up, I see Karen drive away in the rearview mirror. Watching her car drive out of sight, my eyes travel to my reflection.
I scoff at myself and wipe under my eyes. I look dreadful. My dirty blonde hair’s damp and disheveled, my makeup’s running. I lift the console and grab a few tissues to clean myself up before sluggishly removing my soaked jacket and tossing it in the backseat. The heater finally kicks on, and I still can’t bring myself to leave.
I look back into the mirror and see that I’m somewhat pulled together, but I can’t hide the bags under my eyes. I can’t force a false sense of contentment onto my face.
I close my eyes and take in another deep breath, filling my lungs and letting it out slowly. I need sleep. I need to eat. It’s been almost a week since I found out about Marie. A week of her no longer being here to call and check in on. Tears stream freely down my cheeks. I tried so hard not to cry; I learned a long time ago that crying doesn’t help, but being forced to leave her is making me helpless to my emotions.
That first night I almost cried, but instead I resorted to sleeping pills. A wave of nausea churns in my stomach at the thought of what I did. It was so easy to just take one after the other. Each one telling me it’d be ove
r soon. After downing half the bottle, I knew what I was doing. But the entire bottle was too much and it all came back up before I could finish it. Thank God for that. I’m not well, and I’m sure as hell not in a position to help others.
My hand rests against my forehead as I try to calm down, as I try to rid myself of the vision of Marie in my office, but other memories of my past persist there, waiting for this weakness.
I can’t linger any longer. Putting the car into reverse, I back out of my spot, turning and seeing Marie’s plot in the distance as I back up.
Grief is a process, but guilt is something entirely different. It’s becoming harder and harder to separate the two, and I know why.
She reminds me of him.
Of a boy, I knew long ago. The turn signal seems louder than ever as I wait at the exit to turn onto the highway. Click, click, click.
Each is a second of time that I’m here and they’re not. Click, click, click.
The cabin warms as I drive away, merging onto the highway.
Maybe all this has nothing to do with Marie.
Maybe it’s just the guilt that summons the vision of his light gray eyes from the depths of my memory.
Maybe it’s because I’m to blame for both of their deaths.
Chapter 2
John
The faint sounds of the radio disappear with a loud click as I shut it off. It’s an old ass black box, covered in oil and grime from the shop, but it still works. Without it, the garage is silent. I wipe my hands with the blue shop towel, picking under my short, thick nails and scrub against the rough callus on my left thumb.
I'm a blue-collar mechanic, and there’s not much more to me. Day in and day out, I work at my shop on the outskirts of town. The old oak trees and converted barn on the far side of the property are everything I need. I like my peace and quiet out here. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t get a bit lonely at times, but I don’t need companionship. I don’t need anyone.