by Lannah Smith
A thin trickle of blood suddenly ran down the side of her cheek. Upon seeing that, Christopher’s stomach lurched and he bent over with a groan, vomit rolling up his throat as he tried to swallow it down.
His pulse boiled and his face drained cleaned away as memories surfaced in his brain.
Engine roaring. Rubber skidding over gravel. Bright deafening lights. Headlights too close to them.
Swerving. Spinning. Tumbling.
His father’s alarm. His mother’s scream. His fear.
A sickening crunch of metal. Pain. Lights that faded. A car speeding away. Silence. Then blood.
Lots of blood.
April’s hand went to the back of his neck, cupping it.
“Are you alright?”
Someone had hit the car that they were in. They were on their way home after having dinner to celebrate his mother’s birthday. The roads were dark and deserted. It was always the case since they lived on the edge of the city, near the forest that bordered the neighborhood.
Then a vehicle appeared out of nowhere, hitting them broadside.
The car tumbled a couple of times before it stopped, flipped over.
And Christopher, upside down and still strapped in place in his car seat by his seatbelt, wailed and cried as he watched his parents’ upside down and contorted bodies bleed out.
No one found them until hours later.
No one came until hours later when they were already dead.
“Breathe,” Christopher heard her speak to him.
He took in a breath not because she told him but because he needed it. But if felt shallow. His chest felt empty like he couldn’t ever fill it with enough air to breathe anymore.
“Just deep breathe, Christopher.”
He opened his eyes. Crouched in front of him, April stared at him with concern in her eyes, keeping her hand at his neck.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
He pushed her hand off and shoved his head between his knees. Trying to calm down. Hoping she’d go away.
“Is it... is it the blood?”
She didn’t wait for the answer that he couldn’t give. Her hand left him and the next thing he heard was the sound of fabric ripping
“I got it off,” he heard her say. “I got it all off, Christopher. There’s no more blood. Look.”
Lifting his head, he opened his eyes again and looked at her. The blood was gone from her face. And a part of the hem of her dress had been ripped off, making the skirt visibly shorter.
Did she wipe the blood off with it? he thought, blinking the rest of the tears away.
She grinned at him. “It’s just a small cut,” she told him. “Head wounds are like that. They bleed a lot but they’re really not serious.”
And how did she know that?
“I was really surprised when that stone came out of nowhere,” her grin disappeared and her face became thoughtful. “Why were you crying?”
Her hand immediately came down on his shoulder to stop him from running away again. She had easily read his intentions this time.
“Is it about your parents?”
Christopher felt the flash of anger at her for appearing in front of him again. He bit his lip, something he knew he did to control it. It could get ugly and violent and it came out twice.
The first was when his third psychiatrist made him tell him what happened in the car for the fourth time. Christopher had nearly blinded him with a pencil if his grandmother hadn’t caught his hand in time.
The second was when his grandfather was trying to force him to go to school. Christopher had pushed him off the stairs in blind rage. Luckily, his grandfather had great reflexes and managed to get a hold of the railings.
Oblivious to the warring emotions inside of Christopher, April told him in a matter-of-fact voice, “I don’t have a mother too, you know.”
He didn’t why but that information made some of the tension left his shoulders.
“She died. Two years ago. So, I know how you feel.” She looked away and shrugged. “Well, some of it anyway.”
His anger dissolved.
“So,” she went on, placing an elbow on her knee and putting her chin on the palm of her hand, “since you hit me with that rock, you owe me. I know you didn’t mean it but please. Will you take me to the meadow with the yellow flowers?”
Christopher couldn’t believe how manipulative she was. He just broke down in front of her but she acted like it didn’t happen. She wasn’t giving him mercy.
Was the Lockes really as heartless as his grandparents always say?
He stood up.
She looked at him expectantly.
He began to walk north of them and she followed with a little squeal that almost made him bad except for the fact that she was worse than him. It took them five minutes to get there. And when they did, April looked quite confused.
“Isn’t this my house?” she gestured to the fence wall in bewilderment. “Again?”
He stared at her for a second.
Then he started running back to the woods.
“Hey!” she shouted, enraged. “Christopher! Come back here!”
He didn’t go back. He didn’t look back either.
Sprinting past the trees and ignoring her angry shouts, he made his way home.
But this time, he had a smile on his face.
Christopher rose from the bed, leaving April’s side, but he didn’t leave her room. Rather, he placed himself on the chair near the curtained windows.
And he watched her sleep.
All night.
Vowing to protect her.
Chapter 14
My throat ached when I woke up.
I blinked at the ceiling, feeling disoriented and hungry that I couldn’t remember where I was.
Then I remembered. Every bit of it.
And when I let out a sigh to vent my frustration about waking up again, my sigh sounded hoarse and my throat felt raw.
I continued to stare up at the ceiling, hardly daring to blink again. Now that I was awake, every time I closed my eyes, red flashed behind my eyelids. Crimson red. Reminding me that Dan was dead because of me.
Tears hit my eyes and blinking them away, I turned my head.
Then I stopped breathing. Completely.
Christopher was sleeping in the chair beside my bed where that doctor sat. He had his head against the high back of the chair, his forearms on the armrests, hands dangling and his long legs were stretched out in front of him.
I stared at him. His hair was a mess and he needed a shave. He’d changed out of his dress shirt and was wearing a white shirt and sweats. He looked exhausted. Did he sleep in that chair the whole time?
My aching throat burned with the effort of fighting back the tears and a scream.
He was stupid, damn stupid if he thought this could change anything.
I looked away from Christopher, blinking at the ceiling, clenching my jaw.
I’d been drawn to him the first time I met him. The hollowed expression on his face told me he was haunted by pain. So much pain. And I knew why. Until now, it was the greatest tragedy the city had ever experienced.
The death of the Lawrence heir and his beloved wife. And looking at him, I had felt a certain kinship since I lost my mother too. And I still felt it. Deep. Cutting through my bones. So I understood what he felt.
Naively, I tried to make friends with him. A part of it was because I felt sad for him. But mostly because he amused me. The way he always ran away whenever he saw me. The way he stared at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Or the way he got grumpy with me but still looked after me and took care of me.
I’d been foolish.
I shouldn’t have found him, shouldn’t have gone to the forest.
If I could turn back time, I would definitely not have talked to him. Definitely would not have befriended him.
It was all for the better.
For both of us.
I lifted myself up and braced myse
lf when the world spun around me again. Long sleep coupled by hunger made me feel lightheaded but those didn’t stop me from climbing out of the bed.
I had to leave.
I had to leave this place.
And those thoughts gave me the energy to get up.
He was still asleep. I stared at him for a couple of seconds before sliding my gaze to the curtains. Then, one step at a time, I moved towards the closest window and pulled the curtains apart.
The sight that greeted me once I did was the sea.
My eyes widened in shock as I processed the sight in front of me.
I was in what seemed to a house on top of a jutted cliff. Why the hell was I on a house on top of a freaking jutted cliff? How did he get me here? And where exactly was this place?
“You’re awake.”
I stilled. I’d been so caught up in my misery that I didn’t notice that he’d awaken.
I heard the sound of footfalls. Then warmth hit my back.
“I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry,” he said softly behind me. “You haven’t eaten in days. Come back to bed. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
My hands clenched around the fabrics of the curtains. I stared at the sea, concentrating on not hyperventilating
“I told you to take me back,” I muttered in a low, scratchy voice.
“And I said I wouldn’t.”
I closed my eyes tight. “You’re holding me against my will?”
“If that’s how you see it, then I am.”
“Then what makes you different from my father?”
Suddenly, his hand shot out to bang the glass of the window next to my head. Fortunately, I managed not to flinch.
“I am not your father,” he growled down at me. “I would never hurt you, April.”
I slowly turned around and glared up at him. “But I don’t want to be here.”
“I’m keeping you safe and protected.”
“But I don’t want to be here,” I repeated.
I watched his jaw get hard, a muscle shifted up his cheek. Then he lowered his head until it was inches away from mine.
“I can let you go.”
Hope blossomed inside my heart. But I couldn’t let my guard down. Not yet.
“Really?” I asked him in doubtful tone.
He nodded.
Then he said, “But I’d have to kill your father first.”
His words knocked all the breath right out of me.
Eyes studying me closely, Christopher’s face softened and a grin appeared on his face.
“It was just a joke, April.”
A lie.
He wasn’t joking.
“It’s not a funny joke,” I retorted acidly.
Still grinning, he straightened away from me. “Come back to bed.”
“Where are we?”
“I told you. We’re at my house.”
“Where exactly are we?”
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because you might call your father to come and rescue you,” he quipped lightly. “And then I’d have to kill him.”
He was being callous. Easily talking about killing like he was ordering dessert in a restaurant.
“Or would you like to do the honors, April?”
“Stop talking about killing him,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Did you see yourself in the fucking mirror?”
I snapped my mouth shut, my body going rigid.
Christopher’s face was filled with anger, no, so much fury that if there was still space behind me I would have definitely taken a step back. I’d never seen him this angry and I’ve done a lot of things to make him angry.
But never this.
Never this furious and with so much murderous intent.
Suddenly, he took my arm and shoved me in front of the mirror on the vanity. I dropped my gaze to the carpet. I already knew without looking what I’d see. And I couldn’t bear it.
“Every time I see you, every fucking time, it burns a fucking hole through me,” he whispered.
“Then close your eyes,” I suggested.
He didn’t respond to that. Lifting my gaze, I looked at his reflection in the mirror. Then I pulled in breath sharply.
His lips were tipped up in amusement.
And he was staring at me with the gentlest expression on his face.
I was quiet for a moment, trying to put squelch these feelings that sprung up inside of me.
His eyes were warm with affection.
I didn’t want warmth. Nor did I need affection.
“Eight years,” he muttered, still staring at me. “But you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
Panic slowly crept up my system.
“Even with all those...” his eyes flashed as his jaw clenched. “You still take my breath away, April.”
“Maybe because I look like a horror freak show,” I mumbled, trying to step away from him.
But the hand around my arm wouldn’t let me. “And you can still make me laugh at the most inappropriate times.”
“Christopher—.”
“You should have come to me.”
I turned my head to look at him.
His eyes held my gaze when he said, “You should have come to me, April. I could have protected you.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
“You obviously didn’t think so when you ran away.”
Fear replaced the panic in my system.
My eyes slid to the side. While I was looking away, he leaned in closer. His hand cupped the side of my neck then his neck bent, his head coming down, his lips pressing against my head.
I froze.
No one had ever kissed me like this. No one had shown this much affection to me. Not one. Not since my mother died. Not even Dan who I had been with for eight years.
His lips pressed against my head for a long time that it felt like an eternity had passed before he lifted his head. Fortunately, I managed to get out of the trance that he put me under and pushed away from him. He watched me retreat with a blank expression on his face.
“Do you want to eat breakfast here or downstairs?” he asked after a while.
“I’d rather you leave me alone,” I demanded.
He acted like he didn’t hear me. Walking past me, he opened the rest of the curtains, revealing more of the view of the sea and letting more natural light stream into the room.
“You haven’t had the tour of the place,” he was saying as he moved. “It’s a beautiful house. You’ll love it.”
Like hell I would.
“How far are we from the main roads?”
Once again, he ignored my words. “You should take a bath while I make us something to eat.” Giving me a cursory glance, he went on, “Or do you want me to help you with your bath?”
Seething, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
He chuckled. “The clothes in here are all yours.” He pointed at the closets inside the room. “Just tell me if you need anything else.”
“I need you to take me home.”
“Go take a bath,” he made his way to the door and opened it, “if you haven’t bathed by the time I come back in an hour, I’ll take that as permission for me to bathe you myself.”
Now he must be freaking kidding me.
Stiffly, with every bit of the fury I was feeling, I snarled, “I don’t want a bath!”
“You don’t want it but you need it, April. Because honestly, you smell like crap, April.”
The door closed instantly behind him when I threw a brush his way.
As soon as he was gone, I sat heavily on the stool in front of the vanity, the anger dissolving from me.
I couldn’t breathe.
My head was pounding and something in my chest was threatening to explode as I stewed over his highhandedness.