Never in her life had she remembered being so overwhelmed with emotion. Her entire being emitted loathing, directed completely and totally toward one man, Anthony Rawlings. She hated him, his sadistic ploys, and nasty reminders. She picked up the note, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it against the wall. It created significantly less mess than the vase of flowers had months earlier.
Her mind tried desperately to compartmentalize the videos. She wanted to put them away, someplace she would never find them. Think of something else, she told herself, but it was too difficult. She climbed back into bed and smelled his aftershave. Turning over the pillow, the cool side smelled fresh. That, with the realization that he wouldn’t return until a week from Wednesday, gave her a sliver of peace. She tried to concentrate. What day is it now? Sunday. She felt her muscles relax. It is Sunday, his day to be home . . . but he is gone. Her eyes closed as tears began to slip onto her pillow. She drifted away to another place.
“Ms. Claire? Ms. Claire, you must wake.”
Claire tried to focus. She’d been somewhere in a dream. Now hearing Catherine’s voice, she rolled over and saw her standing at the edge of her bed.
“Catherine, what are you doing?”
“Ms. Claire, it is after one in the afternoon. You need to wake and eat. You have already missed breakfast and now lunch. I am worried about you.”
Opening her eyes caused pain. They felt puffy. However, Claire could see Catherine’s concerned expression and hear it in her tone. From the moment he left the room and she read the note, she’d been crying, even in her sleep. Her body ached, head ached, and heart ached. She felt more alone and isolated than she’d ever felt. “Thank you, Catherine, for your concern. But I believe I will stay in bed today. I’m not feeling well.” She tried to sound strong, but as the words came, so did more tears. They stung her swollen eyes. Claire wanted to concentrate on Catherine but her mind wouldn’t stop thinking of him and what he’d done. She didn’t want Catherine to see her in this condition. Claire rolled her face into her pillow, making her words muffled. “Please leave me alone.”
Catherine didn’t leave. Instead, she sat on the edge of Claire’s bed and tenderly stroked Claire’s hair as her head moved with the sobs. Catherine remained silent and comforted her until the sobs subsided and Claire caught her breath. “Ms. Claire, you will feel better if you shower and eat. Please let me help you.” Catherine’s concern and affection reminded Claire of her mother or grandmother. However, she knew that if they were here, they would be telling her to run, not shower.
Claire didn’t want to eat, shower, or even get out of bed. The only thing she wanted to do was to be out of his house. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was by car or death, she just wanted out. The feeling of helplessness sat heavily on her chest. She had tried to survive this ordeal. She had even convinced herself that she could handle whatever he sent her way. But this new situation was too much. He broke her. Since March she maintained her spirit despite the loss of her body. Yesterday he took that too. She turned to look Catherine in the eyes. “How have you been able to work for him all this time?”
Catherine stopped stroking Claire’s hair and gently took her hand. “Mr. Rawlings is a good man, Ms. Claire. He truly is.”
Claire shook her head. The tears and sobs resumed. “No! No, he isn’t. I have never met a more sadistic, cruel, bad man.” She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of the tears, the pounding in her head, and taste of her runny nose. Catherine handed Claire a tissue.
“Mr. Rawlings hides his feelings with certain behaviors. He is afraid to face his own emotions, and he uses this dark persona as a cover. It is not who he really is. I have known him a long time.”
Her words came between whimpers. “Catherine, I can’t. I can’t get up. I can’t face the staff. They all know. They have all seen me, seen him . . . I just can’t.”
“No, Ms. Claire. Only I have access to view the inside of your room.” Claire pulled her hand away from Catherine and rolled from her gaze. Catherine reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. “I only use that access to know when to send the staff inside or to check on your safety.” Claire continued to face away from Catherine. “And now I am concerned about you. Ms. Claire, please let me help you. It is a beautiful day outside.” Claire didn’t move. “Would you like your lunch in here or downstairs?”
Claire shook her head no. “I don’t want lunch. Thank you for your concern, but I am too . . . too . . .” She turned around to face Catherine. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”