“It will be a life where you’re alive. I can only promise to keep you alive.” A muscle starts to jump on the side of his jaw, right above his beard. I hear him inhale. I hear a bird call somewhere. I hear ticking of a clock. I hear a lot, but I only see that ticking muscle. It looks like a bomb that’s ready to blow at any second.
I nod and it makes me more aware of his fingers on the back of my neck. I have two choices; one, I stay with him, this killer, and only the Lord knows what will happen. Or two, I take my chances out there and I know they will find me again. I will die this time because he won’t come for me again. This is my only chance at staying alive.
It sucks when your life depends on a total stranger. I drag in a deep breath and my lungs are instantly filled with his manly scent. I take hold of his arm to steady myself. My legs feel weak. When I pull his hand away from my neck, I try to smile, but I don’t think I’m very successful.
“I guess you’re stuck with me then.” I don’t sound very convincing. I sound fucking petrified.
As I walk back to the room, I grasp what happened in the kitchen … that was the closest Damian ever got to me, and it was only to warn me to not fuck with him. I wonder for the first time what happened to turn him into stone.
Damian~
I watch her leave the kitchen and then I finish my bottle of water. I take two frozen meals from the freezer so they can defrost.
When I go upstairs I hear the shower running. That’s a good sign. It’s one less thing I have to tell her to do. As I pass by the bathroom I notice the door’s not closed all the way. She doesn’t close any doors behind her. Must be because they kept her in the container. She’ll have to deal with her shit sometime, but that’s not my problem.
I get the first aid kit and then go wait in her room for her. Soon she’ll be able to do this for herself too.
I stand by the window when I hear the bathroom door creak. I hear her stop by the door and I can feel her eyes on me, but when I turn around they drop to the floor.
“How do you feel?” I ask. I walk to her and look over her bruises. They’re starting to fade. The burn on her cheek might leave a scar, which is a pity.
I watch her cheeks grow pink under my inspection.
“Confused, miserable, frightened, ashamed … pretty much like a coward,” she rambles honestly to my surprise. Her shoulders slump and then she whispers, “Okay.” She clears her throat and then louder, “I’m okay.”
“Good.” I take hold of her elbow, making sure my touch is light. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t like being touched, which suits me just fine. “How’s the pain?” I steer her to the bed and then wait for her to sit.
She hesitates at first and then she lets the word out with a harsh breath, “Better.” She sits down but squirms uncomfortably, and I know it’s because of me. I’ll have to watch the memory cards we got from the house to see what happened to her, so I’ll know how to handle her.
She’s so different from the other women I’ve saved. Usually they cling, and they need comfort, but she’s the total opposite. Maybe she has some fight left in her.
“Remove the sweater.” I keep my voice neutral. It seems to put her at ease if I’m as cold as possible with her.
I open the first aid kit. “From tomorrow I want you to do this yourself until your wounds are healed.”
I watch as she takes hold of the sweater. Her fingers dig into the material and her knuckles go white.
“I,” she clears her throat again and then she hugs herself, “I can manage. You don’t need to do it.”
Her whole body is tense and she’s hunkering into herself, as if she’s trying to make herself a smaller target.
“Okay,” I say and then I leave. When I reach the door I glance back at her. “You’re safe, Cara.” I say it because I know she needs to hear it.
I close the door behind me and then I stare at it. She’s starting to feel. Now the real hard part starts. She’s either going to deal with what happened to her or she’s going to freak out. Only time will tell how strong she is.
The door is yanked open and her eyes widen when she sees that I’m still standing here. “I … I,” she takes a step back and mumbles, “don’t close it.”
Yeah, I was right about the container thing. It’s a good thing that the house is big, because it’s going to be a while before she’s okay with small spaces again … if ever.
Cara~
Another morning comes, and it’s gray and miserable. The wind howls around the house and it makes it feel so big and empty.
Maybe I was just too freaked out those first two weeks to take in anything, but now I’m starting to see, I’m starting to hear and I’m starting to feel way too much. I’m too alive for all the pain inside of me. It gives the pain something to feed on, something to destroy.
The clothes I found in the cupboard are too big for me, but I wear them gratefully. It’s something, right?