Soft sobs shiver through her, and I allow myself to wonder how she feels. I don’t move, waiting for her to sleep. A long time ago, I might have told her a story.
It all seems childish and foolish now.
Her small hand touches me in the darkness, and I stare at the wall.
Somewhere, something mattered. I just can’t remember what it was.
The smell of coffee wakes me. I’m alone in the bed, and I slowly turn to face the door for the first time. Roland sits in the chair across from me, and when our eyes meet, he drops to his knees at my bedside.
“Will you eat?” he asks softly.
I struggle to sit up enough to take the mug from him. I cup it in both hands and sip, allowing the soothing warmth to travel through my body as my eyes close.
He watches me silently for a few moments before running his index finger down my arm. “I’m sorry I was too late,” he whispers, his voice thick. “I’m so sorry, Lara.”
His head drops onto the bed, and tears sting my eyes.
I don’t want to cry.
I don’t want him to think I blame him. He looks up, his eyes wet, and a knot forms in my throat. I blink and two salty drops fall.
He rises to slide his arms around me and presses his lips to my head. “I’m so sorry you were hurt. I’m so sorry I didn’t save you.”
My body shudders fighting tears, fighting ribbons of memory.
Heroes don’t last long around here…
The voice echoes in my ears, and I know he would have failed if he’d tried.
Just like Mark.
My insides crumble, and I start to lose control. With all the failing strength left inside me, I push that door closed again. I can’t face that memory. Not yet.
I won’t come back from that pain.
We’re quiet as he holds me. He’s faint cigarette smoke mixed with warm coffee. After a few moments, he stands and takes a tissue from my dressing table. He touches his eyes and crumples it in his fist then he turns away from me.
“I was much younger than you when it happened to me.”
My eyes fly to him, but he doesn’t look at me. He looks past the mirror to some distant memory.
“I didn’t dream of killing him. I dreamed of permanently disfiguring him.”
I don’t know how to answer.
“I thought that punishment would fit the crime,” he continues. “But it was never possible, and eventually he moved on to another one.”
He returns and touches my face. “I never thought it would happen to you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it from happening again.”
My coffee is on the verge of coming back up.
It could happen again?
Fear grips my throat. For all I know, he could still be here, waiting. It doesn’t matter what he’s taken. He can come back for more…
I know he will.
“This came for you.” Roland holds out a letter, and I recognize Freddie’s handwriting.
I’d all but forgotten my old plan, my old safety net, and I watch as Roland places it on the bed beside me.
“It feels impossible, but you’ll get through this,” he says. “Now I’ll get breakfast. Be right back.”
The door shuts, and I place my cup on the small table, grimacing as I move. My entire body feels covered in bruises. The place between my thighs feels torn and damaged. Even my ass…
A shudder moves through me.
Push the darkness away.
I reposition myself and lift the letter to tear it open.
My Dearest Angel,
I know how you eschew modern technology, so I decided to write you a letter. I hope it pleases you, although my handwriting leaves much to be desired and I have no idea if this will make it to you before I do.
Please forgive my poor communications. I’m afraid this business has kept me far busier than I anticipated.
Let me reassure you, you are constantly in my thoughts, and I count the hours until I see you again, which will actually be sooner than you think.
Sadly, as a result of my business concerns, my return from Paris can’t be permanent. In fact, I will have to fly back within a day of my arrival in New Orleans.
However, Annemarie says her preparations are complete, and we are both eager for you to join us here, especially in view of what I read on the web of your debut.
I can’t begin to tell you how crushed I am to have missed it, but I hope I’ll be able to see it at least once before you and your sister join us here in Paris.
Please consider what I’ve written as I must have your answer when I see you again. I should be back at the theater the second week of November, and I hope you’ll say the prospect of joining me in my beautiful city fills you with as much joy as it does me.
Your devoted friend,
Freddie
I stare at the letter a long time before lowering it to the bed.
It’s still here.
Our way out.
Yet all I feel is hopelessness and misery.
I look up as Roland returns to the room and watch him place the stale bread and a few pieces of fruit on my table—and a surprise.
“You managed a piece of ham.” My voice is hoarse, and it sounds different to me.
He glances up and smiles, then carries it to the bed. “Had to move fast. I hope it warms your insides.”
He slices it and hands me a piece. The savory meat gives my mind something to settle on apart from my wretched state of affairs.
“Back soon?” He nods to the letter, and I pass it to him with my free hand.
His eyes quickly scan the thick ivory paper, and as he reads, his expression changes. He stands and goes to my dressing table, sets down the dish he’s holding and turns to me.
“You’ve got to get up. If his date’s an estimate, he could be here as soon as tonight.”
I blink. “I don’t understand.”
“Get up,” he orders, jerking back my blankets and pulling my legs around. “You have to clean up and start moving.”
My feet touch the cold floor and tears jump into my eyes. I try to lift them back into the bed, but he catches me and pulls me to my feet. I start to cry.
“Come on, Lara,” he urges, giving me a little shake. “This is the best news you could get. It’s a way out, and tomorrow’s the tenth!”
I close my eyes and drop my shaking head. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t feel anything. I only want to die.”
Roland catches my chin and lifts my face to look at his. His lips are drawn tight and his dark brow furrows. “You have to find it. Grab what’s inside you and force it to stand up.”
Tears flood my eyes as I look at him, but he doesn’t soften. He clenches his jaw and gives me a harder shake. “Do it!”
I suck in a halting breath and grasp his arms. His hands are still clenched on my shoulders, but I take a step back and turn toward my dressing table. The reflection in the glass gives me a start. My eyes are red and my skin is pale. Even my hair seems dull.
He steps behind me to look at my reflection over my shoulder. “Clean yourself up and be the star you are.”
“But…” My voice falters. I can’t say his name. “I lost him.”
My whisper breaks as my shoulders collapse and the tears run from my eyes. He pulls me against his chest, holding me tight as I break, as the waves of pain I can no longer hold back radiate through my chest.
Mark…
I lost him.