I’m trying to nurse myself with some coffee when Damian walks into the kitchen looking like a lion that’s ready to kill.
“I’m going to get Jean. She’ll be staying here until she has things sorted out. I’ll be back in an hour. Could you do me a favor and fix up the other guest room?”
I nod because I’ll spit the coffee out if I open my mouth.
She’s coming to stay.
Here!
With us.
Shit!
“What’s that?” he asks and I look at him blankly. I’m sure I didn’t say anything out loud.
“What’s what?”
He stalks over to me until the cup presses against my chest. His eyes are hard on my mouth. I drop my eyes to his neck when his thumb brushes over the bruise on my lower lip from where I bit into it last night.
“I…” I start to sputter against his hand and grasp the cup with both my hands. “I … the toothbrush slipped. It nicked my lip,” I lie. I’m terrible at telling lies.
He drops his hand to my chin and lifts my face to his, and he waits for me to look up. He knows I’m not telling the truth.
“Cara.” He leans in and I feel everything about him surround me – his strength, his stealth, his deadliness and his vulnerability, and I wish he didn’t have to go and get Jean. I can’t deal with another person in the house. It took me a month to get semi-comfortable with Damian.
“You can talk to me,” he says and his breath skims over my cheek, “about anything.”
I close my eyes and all the ‘anythings’ rush through my mind. The life I want. My freedom. A mundane career. A family. I want normal. I lift myself a few inches and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll remember, thank you,” I say and I bring the cold coffee to my mouth, hiding behind it.
He gives me a look I can’t quite place before he turns and leaves. I watch him walk out of the kitchen to go get Jean.
What if there’s no place for me here after she moves in? She will be a new person for him to save. The thought haunts me as I make sure the guest room is ready and then I retreat to my own.
I have lunch in the oven waiting for them. I draw my curtains for the first time so I can’t see when they come.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I walk to my cupboard and open the doors. I separate three sets of clothes from the rest and I put them aside on an empty shelf. Only when I’ve done it do I realize those are the sets I’ll be taking with me when I leave. A numb feeling spreads through my body.
I feel like a zombie as I leave the room and walk up to the attic. Damian said he had a new identity created for me. I’ll need it if I want to disappear.
I quickly look in the drawers and then I move over to a filing cabinet. I find a file with my full name printed on it. There’s a passport and I.D card in the file. I don’t even look at them as I grab them. I shove both documents into my pocket and race back to my room.
I place the documents under the pile of clothes I’ve set aside. I wait with a pounding heart for them to return. I can’t risk leaving and they end up finding me next to the road.
When I hear wheels spinning over the gravel, I place my hand over my heart and take deep breaths.
I can do this. I have to do this.
I turn my back to the door and stare at the cupboard, trying to think up excuses for why I’m staying in my room and not coming out. I can hear them moving around the house and talking. My eyes keep darting to the slightly open door. I wish I had the guts to close it all the way.
Eventually afternoon turns gray and night sets in. I stop thinking of excuses and start to reassure myself that I’m doing the right thing by leaving.
As soon as it’s dark I get into bed. I hear the door creak open wider and quickly snap my eyes closed.
“Cara.” His voice is a soft whisper. Whether it’s not to wake me, or not to disturb her, I don’t know. I’m hoping he’ll think I’m asleep. I hear the door creak some more and I breathe out. And then I hear him move and pins and needles flush my body hot and cold all at once. He’s not left like I thought he did!
The bed shifts under his weight and I stiffen, waiting, but he doesn’t touch me.
“I want to help you but I’ll leave it to you to come to me,” he whispers. His fingers are soft on my hair, barely there, and then he moves away.
This time I watch him leave and as he pulls the door slightly closed, tears sting my eyes.
I want to cry because I don’t know if I can live this life he lives.
I want to cry because I don’t know what the future has in store for me.
I want to cry because there will always be a death sentence hanging over my head and I don’t even know who wants me dead. It’s terrifying having a faceless enemy.
I’m so empty and filled with longing for the only place I feel safe.