“Then get her help from someone else.” I answer him simply, licking my lower lip and hoping he’ll reconsider whatever his plans are.
His eyes narrow slightly as he cocks his head, an asymmetric grin growing on his face. “She’s going to help me, too.” The way he says the words, so softly, with so much confidence and conviction, forces me to stare into his eyes, realizing there’s no way to get him to stop.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, crossing my arms and trying my damnedest to just stay calm.
“I just want to get her alone and talk to her.”
“Kidnapping-” The word is ripped from my throat before he cuts me off.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, his own hands balling into fists so tightly his knuckles turn white. The air is tense and thick between us. The sun setting makes the garage darker than it was only moments ago.
“You want me to help you kidnap her?” I ask him, not bothering to hide the disgust in my voice. The smile stays in place on his lips as he searches my eyes for something. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded photograph. It’s been creased twice, once down the middle and again at an angle off-center. He smooths it in his palm, finally looking away from me and answering, “I don’t need help there, John.” His voice is sad, as if he already regrets taking her.
He passes me the photo, flattening it against my chest with a hard thud and not letting go until I reach up to take the photo with my own hand.
“I just want you there to watch.”
Adrenaline pumps through me at his request, anger rising in me. “And what am I going to be watching?”
“I just want to talk to her. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to fix her.”
“Then get her help-”
“She’s a shrink now,” he says quickly. His eyes water slightly and he sniffs, looking away to take in a ragged breath. He licks his lower lip and looks back at me, willing me to understand. “She tried to kill herself,” he says in an even voice I don’t trust. “She grew up okay, you know?” He shakes his head once and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know she wasn’t okay. I didn’t know.” I don’t know if he’s talking to me or to himself. His face is scrunched up with genuine pain.
“Who is she?”
“She’s just a girl. I broke her, and I need to fix her.” The strength in his tone solidifies his plan. He wraps his hand around the thin railing to the steps and mutters under his breath so low I almost don’t hear him as he walks away, “And she’s going to fix me.”
“You won’t do this without me?” I yell at his back, more a command than a question. I’ll figure out something to keep him from doing this. I have to.
He turns to look over his shoulder, his face all raw pain and agony. He nods his head once. “I have to do this, but you need to be there. For me and her, John.” His eyes dart to the floor, then back to me. “I’m going tomorrow night,” he says and then turns back to leave, taking another step.
“I’ll go with you,” I tell him quickly. He only nods his head and keeps walking. I know he heard me, and I know where to find him when I finally get a grip on what the fuck is going on. I only have a few hours to figure something out. But I will.
It’s only when I hear the faint click of the front door to the shop that I look down at the photo. I run my fingers down the creases to flatten it as best I can and take in the sight of a beautiful woman.
Her pale skin is complemented by the dark locks of her hair. I’m not sure where she is in the photo; it could be anywhere. The background is merely a brick wall as she looks off into the distance.
I don’t know who she is, but she seems so familiar. The way she smiles, the look in her eyes, they strike something in me. A memory I don’t have access to.
Jay’s told me what happened when he was younger. The descriptions were so vivid I felt as if I was there. I run the tips of my fingers over her face, wondering if she’s really the girl he talked about all those years ago.
I glance up at the empty doorway reluctant to believe Jay and to trust he’s not going to hurt her. I can’t help him do this, but I need to be there for her. I need to protect her. That one thought rings through my blood. I need to be there to help her. I need to get her away from Jay.
Chapter 3
Robin
This sabbatical was a mistake. I’m only hours into it, but I’m already feeling like I need to do something. Anything. I just can’t sit here and not focus on work. It’s what I’ve done since I was a child. It makes dealing with everything so much easier.
I pull the blanket tighter around me and toss the paperback novel onto my nightstand. I tried reading the first page at least four times. My eyes would travel along the lines, but not a word would register. I just can’t focus. I can’t relax.
I flick the switch to the lamp, turning it off and rub my tired eyes. I can’t sleep either, but that’s nothing new. My back cracks as I lie back down and try to stretch out my neck. It’s sore and so are my shoulders, so I fluff the pillow and put my head back down only to be agitated by how hot the pillow is.
I’m just not comfortable. Not physically, not emotionally. And I don’t think I should be. I deserve this.
I turn onto my side and then back onto my stomach, hugging the pillow close to me. I thought tonight I’d be haunted by the last session I had with Marie. I thought it would be her eyes I’d see that kept me from slipping into a much-needed sleep and letting the exhaustion take over. Instead, it’s his eyes.
Red-rimmed and brimming with tears. They fall down his face and he doesn’t acknowledge them, he just stares at me, whispering that he’s sorry. He hadn’t told me he was sorry other than the first day. But weeks later, my strong protector stared at me and it was all he could say. My chest tightens, and I remember how the fear weighed against me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I try not to cry. He already feels guilty, but he shouldn’t. His father uses me to make the boy do things he doesn’t want to. It’s not fair to him. What’s worse is that I want him to protect me. How selfish I am. I’m sickened by it, but the fear of his father keeps me quiet as the days pass.
As I swallow the spiked lump in my throat, twisting my fingers around each other and ignoring the emotions rushing through my blood, my eyes dart to the boy’s arm. The bruises are already dark, and there’s a large scratch on his forearm. The blood is so bright. Such a vivid color. I’ll never forget.
“I’m sorry,” he says and his voice cracks and this time he wipes the tears away with the back of his hand as he sniffles. I’ve never seen him like this. I shake my head with my eyes closed, ignoring how my heart squeezes and my body goes cold. His father is going to come for me. He’s going to put me in the cage instead of the boy.