I winced at the urgency in his voice. The utmost dedication to his child while using me as collateral.
He’d already destroyed all my trust. Now, he destroyed all my hope.
Destroyed any hope that I was as important to him as Olive was. I was only valuable if I could be traded for what he truly wanted.
Once again, I wanted to hate.
I wanted to hate him and her and the man they called uncle.
But...no matter what he’d done to me—no matter the drugs he’d fed me and the bargains he begged for, I didn’t have the strength to hate.
Hate demanded such a lot. It needed energy and emotion and a deep, dark heat that burned. Mostly naked and shivering on the forest floor, I had no energy. I’d used up all my emotion. The only thing I felt was tired.
Tired and resigned and sad.
So, so sad.
I’d lost everything.
I thought I’d lost it the moment I couldn’t dance anymore.
But I’d been naïve.
A tattoo couldn’t fix this.
Scars couldn’t repair this.
This truly was the end.
I closed my eyes, willing the drugs to whisk me away.
But they didn’t. They kept me awake and at their mercy as Gil whispered, “O...I’m so fucking sorry.”
My eyelashes opened, filling my vision with his misery.
“I love you.” His lips turned down as he drank me in. His gaze travelled over my skin painted with his mark, my love left as his sacrifice. For the longest moment, he stared, pouring love and apology into me, and begging me to understand, all while knowing he’d lost me forever.
There was no coming back from this.
No way of repairing what was broken.
With the heaviest of nods and most reluctant acceptance, he blew Olive a kiss, gave me one last look, then turned and walked away.
He tripped as if exhausted. He stumbled as if wounded. He moved like a man who’d forfeited everything.
A cresting, debilitating wave of terror cracked my ribs, one by one. My lungs sipped air rather than inhaled it. Fear vised my skull with pressure. Grief mushroom clouded until it filled me.
I hadn’t had a panic attack since the first day I’d woken and found my body restricted by pins and pain.
I couldn’t afford to have one now.
Steadying my breathing, I kept my eyes locked on Gil as he slowly left us behind.
The crunch of his boots sounded as horrid as cannon fire.
The sniff of his sadness as damning as death.
As the night swallowed him, Jeffrey bent to speak to Olive, his voice just loud enough for my enjoyment too. “Daddy isn’t being a good boy these days.” He stroked her hair even as she squirmed to get away. “He’s not a very good painter anymore.” He tapped her on the nose. “You know what? I think we’ve had enough of boring old Popeye, don’t you?”
Olive gasped, clinging to Jeffrey’s arm. “He just needs some spinach—”
“No...he needs a harsher lesson.” He shook her off him, standing tall. He raised his hand, pointing the gun at Gil’s back.
Olive bounced on the spot, trying to grab his wrist. “No. Don’t—”
“Shush, he’ll hear you.” Jeffrey snatched her and wrapped his free hand around her mouth. “Be quiet, sweetheart.”
She moaned and mumbled behind his palm while he chuckled quietly, keeping his tone low so Gil would never know. “Let’s shoot him and say bye-bye.” He closed one eye, scoping out his prey. “Bye, pathetic nephew.”
It happened in slow motion.
I couldn’t believe he’d do it.
But then, it became real.
So unbelievably real.
No!
I opened my mouth to scream. To shout. To warn.
I jack-knifed as high as I could with rope and tiredness and yelled into the night. “Gil!”
But...just like before...it was too late.
The gunshot ripped my voice apart.
The bullet flashed through the dark.
Somewhere in the blackness, Gil grunted.
A vague shadow cartwheeled forward.
His arms flew backward.
Birds squawked.
Twigs snapped.
Death lodged in his spine.
Gil landed face first in the dirt.
“No!”
Oh, my God.
“No!” I rolled onto my stomach, trying to wriggle with my hands bound behind my back to get to him.
“Gil!”
I fought harder, the ropes slipping a little.
But strong fingers plucked me from the earth. Harsh breath slithered over my nape, and brute strength whipped me around to face him. “Hello again.”
I had no time for him. I didn’t care about him. He was nothing. No one.
“Gil!”
Looking over my shoulder, I willed him to be okay.
But...he didn’t get up.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
“Daddy!” Olive tried to run past Jeffrey, only to be jerked to a stop by her jacket hood again.
“You two, fuck, you have some manners to learn.” Pulling a length of rope from his pocket, he managed to catch Olive’s flying fists and block his ears from her terrible screams as he tied her tight.
Slapping her cheek, he snarled, “Quiet. He’s dead. It’s over. I’m your father now.”
Olive just cried harder.
I had so many things I wanted to say.
So many curses to slur and promises to decree, but the awful, clinging sleep still hadn’t freed me entirely. I opened my mouth, but only tears fell.
He shot him.
He shot him!
“Gil...please wake up!”
Jeffrey slapped me, just as he’d slapped Olive. “You shut up, too.” Bending a little, he wedged his shoulder into my belly and hoisted me over his back. The air crushed out of my lungs. My ribcage bruised as he slung me like a carcass.
Jerking Olive forward, he looked back one last time at Gil’s corpse as he stole us away. “Say goodbye to that useless body painter. You won’t be seeing him again.”
Chapter Six
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
HE’S GONE.
Gone.
Gone.
I didn’t dare voice the other word. The more permanent word.
Dead.
He’s dead.
He might not be.
I saw him fall.
I watched the bullet.
But I didn’t see the wound.
Didn’t see the blood.
Too far away to feel his pulse or check his breath.
Gone or dead...they were both the same.
The GPS tracker dug into my hip as I swung over Jeffrey’s shoulder. The bones of his arm burrowed into me, compounding agony on top of agony. If Gil was alive, I was grateful. If he was dead, I was distraught.
But it didn’t matter because I’d never see him again.
The GPS coordinates wouldn’t save us as there was no one coming. The little blinking location on Gil’s phone was utterly pointless.
Gil might still be alive.
But...I was dead.
Olive was dead.
Every heartbeat on borrowed time.
Olive hadn’t stopped crying. I’d lost track of how long Jeffrey had dragged us through the dark. The paint on my skin tugged the fine hairs beneath. The bite in the air dressed me in chills. And Olive’s hiccups and distress sent empathy digging deep into my soul.
Her grief consumed the entire forest.
Her belief that her father was dead absolute.
I wanted to comfort her.
To tell her he might be okay. He might live. He might still come and save us.
But I had no air in my lungs from being hung upside down. I had no freedom from pounding temples or slithering tiredness that still threatened to drag me under.
Jeffrey snapped a curse, hauling Olive into a walk as she tripped mid-cry.
She’d just witnessed her father being shot, and he didn’t care at all.
Numbness spread over my stomach, doing its best to protect me from the pain of being carted like a kill. My ears strained for sounds of someone chasing us. Of Gil barrelling through the darkness, healthy and very much alive.
But there was nothing.
No one.
Just my terrified thoughts jumping from topic to topic.
Of freedom.
Of fighting.
Of forgiveness.
Gil hadn’t wanted to do this to me. He’d thought he could win by gambling two lives in order to save one.
But he’d lost.
Three lives in one.
His family...his true blood...his child.
A child that couldn’t stop sobbing.
Jeffrey snarled again, hushing Olive so that only the hoots of owls and scratchings of foxes serenaded us as we travelled the final way.
His footsteps slowed as we reached a small clearing. I tried to see around the upside-down view of his butt but could only make out a lumbering shape in the gloom.
Olive tripped again, only to be hauled to her feet thanks to the rope around her wrists and a harsh jerk from Jeffrey. A clink of keys sounded as he shoved them at her. “Run ahead and unlock, sweetheart. You know the rules now, don’t you?”
She sniffed loudly. The keys stopped singing as her fist clutched them, and she shot forward away from Jeffrey’s abuse. The rope wrapped around her wrists slithered after her in the bracken like a venomous snake.
She moved as if she knew this place well. As if this was her home, all while Gil had done his best to save her. Jeffrey chuckled as he jostled me higher, carrying me to where Olive sniffed and struggled to unzip a large tent.
Bending his knees, my captor groaned as he slid me from his shoulder and plonked me onto the forest floor. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The release of pressure from my ribcage was too much, and my lungs no longer knew how to operate.
My head pounded as blood whooshed from my ears and back into my legs. Grey and black spots danced over my vision as I shook my head, doing my best to clear the remaining fogginess.
Whatever this place was, I couldn’t afford to stay a victim. Jeffrey had shot Gil after telling him he’d keep us alive for better motivation. He’d ended his retirement pay-out by shooting him, so why would he need to keep us breathing?
We were merely a nuisance now and not an incentive.
Time was running out.
Jeffrey checked the rope around my wrists and ankles, re-tightened the knots Gil had done around my wrists, undid the ones around my legs, and hauled me to my feet.
He grunted as I wobbled. “For fuck’s sake, I’ve carried you for long enough. Walk the final distance.” Shoving me forward, he chuckled as I plummeted to my knees. With my hands tied and balance still compromised, I face-planted into a rotten pile of leaves and muck.
“Don’t know what he saw in you.” He nudged me with his boot as I pushed up and did my best to stand. His gentle kick was enough to land me in the dirt again. “Come on, Bambi, don’t have all day.”
I threw him a glower over my shoulder. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“This. Whatever you’re doing. Let us go.”
I fought for the child of the woman who’d ruined Gil’s life. A child of her creation. But Olive was Gil’s, not Tallup’s.
And this bastard shot him.
My heart squeezed, allowing the word ‘death’ to sink past my fortress. I didn’t have time to grieve.
Sticking my chin up, I forced myself to picture Gil alive. I stood, working out the tightness in my muscles as my body came alive after being hung like drying meat, and focused on freeing myself and Olive.
Jeffrey grinned. “Didn’t learn your lesson from last time, huh? You’re still using that dangerous little word.” His face shot close to mine. “Us.”
“Fine. Release Olive and me.”
“Nope.” He laughed. “Why would I do a stupid thing like that?”
“You shot Gil. What other use do you have with us if he’s not around to pay your demands?”
“Oh, I have other ideas.” He tapped his nose with airs and graces of a secret. “He did a good job padding my retirement. He kept his mouth shut and his wallet open. It’ll be sad not to have such a lucrative nephew, but...” His hand shot out, arching my chin up with his knuckle, bringing the whiff of old cigarettes. “You two can fetch me a pretty penny in other ways.”
I wanted to spit in his face. “We’re not for sale.”
“Sweetheart, everything is for sale.” He smirked coldly. “Gilbert knew that lesson very well.”
My teeth clenched together, hate rolling over me like a wave.
Jeffrey pulled me through the tent’s entrance, revealing it wasn’t a tent but an awning attached to a caravan. A three-seater couch sat beneath an outdoor heater along with a coffee table, TV, and two plastic boxes of household supplies. A threadbare rug covered most of the bracken and twigs, creating the illusion that this was a cheery cabin in some safe woodland. The caravan door hung open, spilling light into the awning.
“Gil was born to whores and became a whore. Their shelf life isn’t the longest—just like any merchandise.” Jeffrey looked me up and down, licking his lips. “He was at the end of his use-by-date. But you...you’re just getting started. I’ll probably sample you before I sell you. Write a review for prospective buyers—that’ll be a laugh. Are you worth one star or five?” He snickered to himself, dragging me up the caravan steps.
Olive whimpered as we entered the cramped space. She huddled against a window, wedged between a long table with bench seats on either side. She pulled her legs up, scrunching them against her chest. She hugged herself tight, while her chin rested on her knees.
Colouring books scattered the narrow table, revealing vibrant doodles and designs outside of the printed mandalas. She was Gil’s daughter all right: she had his talent with colour.
I gave her a smile. A smile that I hoped said I was there for her and I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. A smile that most likely said the same things her face did: that we were screwed and all on our own.
She gave me a watery smile back, tears still falling silently down her cheeks.
Jeffrey pushed me until I slammed into a bench seat opposite Olive. My bound wrists throbbed as they smashed against the table. Pencils jumped at the impact.
Jeffrey rolled his eyes as if I couldn’t do anything right. Closing the caravan door, he locked it, then marched to the kitchen and fridge in the middle of the tiny home. Ripping open the door, he pulled out a beer. Twisting off the cap, he drank the entire thing in one go.
I supposed shooting his nephew and kidnapping was thirsty work.
Gil.
He’s dead.
My heart skipped a beat.
You don’t know that.
He tied me up and left me to die.
Stop it.
My hands balled as I focused on Olive.
Her eyes skated away from mine, wet and full of sadness. I studied her cute button nose and petite forehead—two features that came from Tallup. I traced the thick unruly dark hair and cutting cheekbones—two inheritances that came from Gil.
She was a beautiful child.
Dainty and delicate, long-legged and sweet.
She looked as if she’d been born to these woods. As if she’d had a fawn for a father and a fairy for a mother.
Her eyes met mine again.
Grey.
Not green. Not blue. Not brown.
Grey.
Gil doesn’t have grey eyes.
Didn’t have grey eyes.
Stop that.
He’s alive.
My stomach clenched as I fought off black thoughts, recognising the identical stare of the woman who’d been our teacher.
Years existed between that t
ime and this yet, watching Olive, I saw similarities. The quick movements as Olive swiped at her damp cheeks. The intelligent gaze as she glanced at Jeffrey.
She had a lot of Gil running in her blood, but she also had a lot of her mother.
My heart fissured with hurt.
The pang of jealousy didn’t make sense.
The rush of confusion and pain was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
The GPS tracker in my underwear pinched against my side, giving false promise that someone would find us before unspeakable things happened, but all I could do was stare at the sweetest girl born from assault on a teenage boy.
A boy who’d given up all his dreams to love and protect her.
Another tiptoe of tiredness hit me.
I didn’t want to think or worry or hurt anymore.
I wanted to sleep.
And then wake from this nightmare.
Olive sucked in a shaky breath, her tears still flowing. Looking at her uncle, she whispered brokenly, “Ca-Can we go back?”
Jeffrey tossed the empty beer bottle into the sink. “Go back where?”
“To see Daddy. He was hurt.” Her fists curled. “You hurt him.”
With a threatening swoop, Jeffrey squeezed onto the bench beside Olive and crowded her against the wall. Her shoulder bumped the lacy tieback on the cream curtains. She didn’t whimper when he gathered her into his side and wrapped a reptilian arm around her fragile shoulders. She had courage. She’d lived with this monster a while.
“I didn’t hurt him,” Jeffrey muttered. “He hurt himself by not being a good boy and following the rules.” He tapped her on the nose. “Unlike you, sweetheart. You’re very obedient, aren’t you?”
I squirmed on my side of the table, my body writhing in denial of this grotesque human being tormenting a young girl. “Don’t touch her.”
Jeffrey chuckled, cuddling Olive closer to spite me. “You, meanwhile, have a lot to learn.”
Olive’s cheek squished against his chest, her eyes closed while evermore tears fell. I didn’t know how such a young girl could be so brave and quiet.
It hurt me to see her so manhandled and alone.
Ignoring Jeffrey, I spoke to the little girl who desperately needed a friend. “Olive...I’m Olin. Our names are so similar. So...that means I like you straight away.”
The Living Canvas Page 7
