My body jerks and the old shivering returns. “Stop.” It’s a low growl from the back of my throat.
“I clean up after people. It’s what I do. Your dad and uncle left a mess and I have to clean it up so you can live. You understand that?” He keeps going.
“Stop … the car,” I wheeze the words out and reach for the door as bile pushes up my throat. Shit, I’m going to be sick. My torso convulses and I press my hand to my mouth.
I jerk forward as he quickly brings the car to a stop. A moment later the door opens. It’s already building into my mouth by the time he gets my seatbelt off. I lurch forward and fall onto all fours, heaving over the road. Tears mix with a cold sweat dampening my face, while I heave until all that’s left are weak, dry croaks.
“So much for no one noticing us,” I hear him sigh.
I’m too drained to be embarrassed and his don’t-give-a-fuck attitude really makes it easier not to care what he thinks of my puking on the side of the highway.
He presses a bottle to my lips. “Water.” A whisper, not meant to be kind. I rinse my mouth a couple of times but the burn of the bile remains in the back of my throat. I keep the rest of the water as I get back in the car. When he closes the door, I lean my forehead against the cold window.
He takes hold of my chin and turns my head until I’m looking at him. Murderous eyes bore into mine. “You asked and I don’t lie. I kill but I don’t lie, Cara. Careful what you ask me because you will always get the truth.”
I nod in his hand to show I understand. I don’t know if I’m scared shitless of him, or if I feel safer knowing what he does. All I know is I’m tired, and I feel old, so very old.
When he finally stops in front of a house, I can’t see much of it in the dark. I can make out that it’s big and old, but that’s it.
I follow Damian to the front door, but I make sure to keep a safe distance. He unlocks the door and then he disappears inside. I see a light go on somewhere inside and then I take a step closer. I peek inside and can only see a glimpse of what looks like a living room, a set of stairs going up and a small passage to the right.
I glance over my shoulder and peer into the darkness.
Can I trust this man not to hurt me? Should I rather make a run for it?
For a moment the urge to run is overwhelming, and I panic. I turn away from the front door and move as quick as I can. I race down the porch steps and almost miss the last one.
That’s about as far I make it. The quick movements and panic depletes my energy like starving leeches. I grab hold of the railing and take a few deep breaths, and then a hopeless sound escapes over my lips. I have no choice but to stay. I’m in too much pain to be on the run.
I glance back at the open door and I’m shocked when I see Damian leaning against the wall right at the foot of the stairs. His eyes are on me, as if he’s patiently waiting for me to decide whether I’m staying or running.
My shoulders slump wearily and I take the stairs slowly back up to the porch. I suck in another deep breath and then step into the house where I’ll either be able to lick my wounds, or where I’ll be killed.
My heart starts to race at the thought and I keep my face down. I’m so fucking tired. My chin starts to tremble with tears as the hopeless feeling suffocates me.
“Let me show you around and then you can go sleep,” Damian whispers.
The living room is large. The kitchen looks normal, and then we head upstairs. He’s patient as I take one stair at a time. Sweat beads on my forehead and my body starts to tremble from all the effort it’s taking to just stay on my feet. When I reach the top of the stairs my head starts to spin and I feel nauseous. I want to sleep and never wake up.
There are three bedrooms. Two have beds in them, nothing else. I don’t get to see the third room so I guess it’s his. There are also stairs leading up to an attic. He grumbles something about staying out of the attic.
There’s a full bathroom upstairs and a toilet downstairs. We share the bathroom. The house has an old and empty feel about it, but I couldn’t care less.
I use the last of my energy to walk to the bed and I sit down heavily. I could cry with relief.
“Cara.” I look at the faded blue bedspread. It reminds me of water. “Cara!” Damian says louder. I flinch at the volume of his voice and look up at him.
“Sorry,” I try to smile, but my lips feel weird.
He looks at the bed and then at me. “There are other covers in the closet down the hall. Change it if you don’t like these. There are some clothes in that cupboard,” he points to the one taking up most of the wall right behind me, “they might be a bit big. You lost weight. We’ll fix that.” He turns around but stops. “I have a question.” He waits, as if he’s waiting for my permission.
“Yeah?” I fold my hands together on my lap and interlace my fingers tightly.