by Ella Fields
“I don’t need your protection, Milo.” My tone changed, dragging out his real name, but I found no joy from it when he flinched. “You’re the one who got me into this mess. Leave me be. Despite what your wife said, I’m not a child.”
A wrinkle deepened his brow, his rough voice hinting at his frustration. “I know you’re not, but what I told you was no fucking joke. You think we’d upend someone’s life this way for no good reason?”
I crossed my arms. “Were you going to leave your wife before you set a date for our wedding?”
“Jem, come on.”
I ran the toe of my flip flop through the dirt. “Just answer the question.”
“I told you, after that first night, it all became real, but Shelley…”
“Shelley,” I echoed, as if saying her name would make this more real and less of a nightmare.
“It’s hard. We’ve been together since high school—”
“Wait, so you never even had that pregnancy scare in high school.”
He shook his head. “That happened to a friend.” My eyes tingled as he continued, “Shell’s been my best friend for most of my life, and I knew, I knew that I couldn’t keep you both, and I told her that. She’s …” He groaned, a hand slicing through his hair. “Complicated, and willing to put up with more than most other women are, so she doesn’t give in easily, if ever.”
“You have that right,” I said. “So it was her you slept with.” I didn’t want to know, but I had to. “You slept with her more than once, didn’t you? You would have, she’s your wife.”
He said nothing, and that said it all.
Inhaling a burning breath, I turned the tears off. “This is so messed up. You know that, right?”
“I’m going to fix it. It’ll be just you and me, I swear. But first—”
I laughed, dry and shallow, shaking my head as I muttered, “Such an asshole.”
“Jem, please listen. We’re not the monsters here.” He threw a quick glance at the house behind me, then lowered his voice. “I’ve spoken with my superior, and he’s agreed we need to get you into protective custody. Until then, you’re coming back to the house with me.”
“The house you paid for or taxpayers?”
He cursed. “Does it matter?”
“Considering I lived there for months, yeah, it kind of does. No wonder you wouldn’t let me pay the mortgage.” I laughed bitterly. “Oh, wait, should I thank you for not just taking my money anyway?”
“Curb the sass, Jem, and get in the fucking truck.” When I made no effort to move and merely raised my brows, he came forward. “Fine. I’ll fucking take you myself.”
My fists slammed into his granite back as he tossed me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. I screamed, kicking and punching as he threw open the back door and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
Then I screamed louder.
The sound of a gunshot sliced through the air, pelting the dirt near Milo’s sneakers, and rendered everything silent. Even the wildlife.
“Fucking hell.” Milo almost dropped me as he released me, eyes huge as Dad marched over with a loaded shotgun.
I stumbled back toward the house. “I don’t know what kind of hellhole you crawled out of, son, but I never trusted your slimy ass.” Dad fired again when Milo made to walk around the truck, then froze, arms rising into the air. “You touch her again, and I’ll blow your hands clean off.”
“I’m going,” Milo said, his chest heaving as he backed toward the truck door. “But Jem, please. For just a second, forget about everything else and think about this. You know I’m not lying to you.” He climbed in and shut the door, motioning with his hand for me to call him.
“The hell is he talking about?” Dad asked, gun still aimed at the truck as Milo threw a three-point turn in front of the garage.
I inhaled through my nose and set one truth free. “He’s just a cheating scumbag.”
Dad shot at the truck, knocking out the right taillight. Milo swerved for a second before righting the truck and speeding off down the hill to the road. “Well, hopefully that’ll get the asshole a ticket before he gets it fixed.”
Dad’s laughter trailed behind him as he squeezed my shoulder and went back inside.
Two days passed before my phone pinged with a text from Milo, saying there was an envelope waiting for me at the grocer just outside the city limits. The one the few residents of Glenning, and the surrounding rural towns, used when they didn’t want to venture into the concrete jungle.
I ignored it, shoved my phone aside, and tried to continue reading. When that failed, I cleaned the house, wiping dust from places my dad either didn’t see or chose to ignore and then vacuuming.
By late afternoon, my hair was sweat soaked, and I needed a shower.
Afterward, I slipped on a peach-colored cotton dress that I hadn’t worn since high school and tossed my hair into a ponytail. A glance in the mirror displayed thinner arms and legs, the bones of my cheeks stark, and my eyes big against the harsher planes of my face.
I hadn’t been eating well, but that was hard to do when my stomach had been in a constant knot for the past two months.
In the mirror, my phone haunted me as my eyes snagged on it.
I was safe, I kept repeating to myself. I was home, and it was hard to imagine such ugly things would reach me here.
My eyes shut against the memory of blue and red flashing lights. The cop car that’d pulled up in front of our house. My dad’s colleague and friend, Bill, delivering the news about my mother, who’d died just a couple of miles from our driveway.
That child.
Curbing a frustrated scream, I grabbed my phone, purse, and keys, then told Dad I was heading into town.
Even though it was due to close soon, the little brown shop was bustling, waves of heat still crawling over the gravel lot.
I parked between a truck and a Beetle and climbed out, wiping sweat from my brow.
The sun was setting, orange and purple painting the sky, and still, there was no reprieve.
Inside, Honey, the woman who owned the shop with her husband, smiled from ear to ear when she saw me, then glanced at the register, plucking a white package from beside it.
“You tell your daddy he still owes Earl a case of beer.” She eyed me, waiting until I smiled before releasing her hold on the envelope. Its light weight poked holes into my hand, and I knew. It would give me the details about what happened next.
Just as well.
I grabbed some gum and slapped a five down on the counter. “Will do, Hon. Thanks.”
Before I could leave, she called out, “That man who dropped it off, he yours?”
Needles lunged for my chest, but I chased them away with a carefree smile. “No.”
I waved goodbye as she tsked, and said, “Damn shame.”
What a shame, indeed, to realize he never really was mine. To realize that the life I’d been living for the past year, none of it, was meant to be mine.
Hunger arrived as I was about to turn out onto the road that’d take me back home, and I turned the opposite way, hitting the drive-through before it left me again.
Chewing on my second cheeseburger and staring out the dust-grimed windshield to the highway beyond, I thought about texting Milo back. To let him know that I’d gotten his precious envelope.
That I wasn’t a child.
Chucking the crumpled wrapper onto the passenger seat where said envelope lay, I decided against it and turned the ignition over.
I was sure either he or one of his cronies would check in with Honey.
The thought of leaving my life, as false and fucked up as it’d been lately, made my hands clench tight around the steering wheel in defiance.
How long would it be for? What would they tell my dad? Would he be safe if I left? What about Hope, Jace, and the boys?
If they’d gone this long without gathering enough intel on Thomas, who’s to say they ever would? I’d be holed up forever,
I concluded as I thought of Thomas.
Conniving, careful, calculating Thomas.
Then again, holed up forever was better than dead.
Who knew, perhaps some time away from all this would do me some good. It could help me figure out how to start fresh.
As soon as the thought hit, the bridge where I was supposed to meet Thomas loomed ahead. My headlights glowed a dull orange until I flicked on the high beams, then I screamed.
A familiar black car was parked across it, blocking entry to the road beyond. I slammed on the brakes, the tires skidding, then immediately put the car into reverse, attempting to back up and turn around, when I screamed again.
Another car had pulled up behind me, right before the bridge. I didn’t even remember seeing someone following me.
There was no way out.
The screaming of my heart drowned out the screams that left my mouth as I fumbled, reaching across the passenger seat for the glove compartment where I’d stored a handgun just three days ago.
Once in my hand, I turned and aimed at the person opening the door. The tall figure, swathed in darkness, knocked it from my hands in one quick sweep, then hauled me from the vehicle as if I hadn’t just eaten my body weight in cheeseburgers and fries.
There was no time for begging, only doing. And so I wriggled, my legs kicking as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and lifted me from the ground.
The sight of Thomas leaning against his car, wearing his usual suit and blank expression, sent a fresh wave of strength careening through me, and I used it to drop my head down, then quickly slammed it back into my kidnapper’s face.
He cursed, grunting as he dropped me, and I tripped around Thomas’ car, leaping over the rocks by the creek before running into the forest.
Quiet.
Nothing but deathly quiet. Nothing but me and the sound of my feet snapping over twigs and scuffing over rocks, and my labored breathing as I pushed myself harder, farther into the unfamiliar terrain.
Then another sound.
His voice, echoing through the trees as though he had all the time in the world. As though he was walking languidly, lazily strolling behind me, uncaring of the fact I could get away. “You may as well stop, Jemima. We both know it’s useless.”
I would’ve scoffed if I didn’t have better things to do. Like trying to stay alive.
I felt him getting closer.
Impossible, I thought.
Too busy tossing a glance into the gloom behind me, I tripped over a fallen, hollowed out tree trunk.
This wouldn’t be how it ended.
My ankle panged in protest, and I forced myself onto my hands and knees. The sound of leaves and twigs crunching filtered into my panicked brain, and my stomach heaved.
Before I could stand, a hand wrapped around my elbow, wrenching me from the damp, mildew-scented earth. In a blur of frantic movement, I acted on instinct, raising my knee to his crotch as I spun, then stumbled away when his hand fell loose.
Again, I ran.
I ran, ignoring the pain in my ankle, the fear that had me wanting to bang my head against one of the ancient trees to wake up from this nightmare, and I ran from the pain in my heart.
I ignored it all and smiled when I saw the headlights of a lone passing car through the curtain of trees and foliage.
I could make it. I could run home or at least run along the road until someone passed.
Air escaped me in a rush, and a shriek left me as a sharp bite penetrated my skin.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, reaching around to pluck what looked like a dart from the back of my arm. With my heart trembling, even as it slowed, I staggered back into a tree trunk, warmth spreading from the stinging prick, steadily oozing into every limb of my body.
Losing control of my legs, I fell to my ass. Hard. Yet I couldn’t feel it.
I couldn’t feel a thing as I stared up at the sky, searching for the moon, for one last source of light.
I found it, clung to it as my breathing slowed and my vision frayed.
“I told you it was useless.”
The moon disappeared, his calm words following me into the dark.
I startled awake, a loud inhale scraping my lungs as I blinked into darkness.
My head felt like it weighed a ton as I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t move.
And it wasn’t only because of whatever drug swam through my body.
Blood ceased to flow, my lurching stomach dragging my heart into its roiling depths as I discovered why.
My wrists and ankles were bound to a chair that seemed like one I’d sat in at the dentist.
The scent of Lysol and bleach coated the air I struggled to breathe as I drew in heaving gasps. Panic sliced sharp and deep, and I shut my eyes, trying to calm my frantic heart.
Opening them, I tried to raise my head again, getting a quick look at the fastenings around my wrist, but nothing else. My head fell, my body too weak to do anything but lay there and give in.
An overhead light flickered on, a dull orange that assaulted my retinas and caused my heart rate to soar even higher. Which almost scared me more than the man who’d turned it on.
“Good, you were starting to worry me. You shouldn’t have been out for that long.”
Waxy film covered my mind and the events that’d transpired, that led to me lying here, unable to move, while a monster stood over me with furrowed brows.
“Worry?” I asked, the word husky. I swallowed, trying to rid the cotton-like residue coating my dry mouth.
Thomas nodded, reaching behind him to pull a stool over. The screech and drag of its wheels hinted the floor was hard. Wood or concrete. A puff of air escaped the cushioned seat as he lowered onto it and scooted close. “You shouldn’t have been out any longer than an hour or two. The sedative was mild.” He looked over his shoulder, into the shadows, pondering something. “Perhaps you have a lower tolerance, being that you’ve never been under much toxic influence in your life.”
I ignored the obvious, that he’d dissected personal facets of my life, that his poison ran deeper than I could’ve anticipated, and focused on what mattered. “Are you going to kill me?” Was it better to know or to wonder? I clearly needed to know. “Is that why you were watching me, looking into me?”
“I figured they’d found out about that.” Thomas twisted his lips in thought, then sighed. “You only have yourself to blame for being here, really.”
“It’s my fault?” I laughed out, the sound aggravating my sore throat.
Another nod. “Among other things, you took an interest in me. Others usually know what I am without knowing a thing and leave me well enough alone. Not you, though.” His eyes gleamed, blue drowning out the white. “You don’t know what that does to a man like me. A tiny smile, a tiny touch, one tiny kiss, a slew of questions, and it was only a matter of time before we ended up where we are now.”
I’d known. I’d known since I’d first spoken to him that he was different, and I tried to tell him as much, but my lips pressed together in stubborn self-preservation.
God, it was a wonder I wasn’t screaming. His words, my surroundings that were still hazy in the corners all struggled to map together. In the shadows, I briefly made out what looked to be an old fireplace and boxes stacked in a corner against the wall.
Thomas kept prattling on, either ignoring my turmoil or relishing in it. “Now, let’s play a little game, shall we?”
The latter.
He reached behind him for something, and silver glinted beneath the weak light of the lamp that swayed above our heads. Tools. Weapons, maybe. I didn’t need to see them all to know they weren’t Halloween decorations.
“No, n-no.” I shut my eyes, my thighs clenching together as the urge to pee barreled out of nowhere. “Thomas, please. Let me go. I’ll—”
“Hush, Little Dove. You’re in perfectly capable hands here.” A ruffling met my ears, my eyes opening against the fear that longed to keep them shut. To shut everything off and
disappear.
He flipped through what looked like pieces of paper on a clipboard. “Back to the matter at hand. The game is called true or false.” He untucked a pencil from the top of the clipboard. “Quite basic. Let’s begin.”
“Begin?” I slur-shouted. “I never did anything. I didn’t even know you were such a-a monster.”
The pencil made a scratching noise. “That answers that question then. Next.”
My hands clenched, sweat clammy and sticking to the inside of my palms. “Untie me, please.”
“Not until we’re done.”
“Done?” I tried not to screech and failed.
With clinical detachment, he surveyed my body, then brought his eyes back to the clipboard. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re fine. I’ve had Murry fetch you some water and fruit to help you recover from your run in the woods.”
Fruit? “What the fuck is going on?”
He sighed, the clipboard coming to rest on his knee. “I’m a patient man, Little Dove. But that patience only extends so far, especially after the past twenty-four hours.” He leaned forward, his voice whisper soft but drenched in warning, “Start asking the questions that I know are blazing trails of fear through your beautiful brain, or things could start getting more difficult for you.”
I didn’t know how that was possible, but one look from the glowing menace in his eyes to the wall filled with glittering instruments had me swallowing and nodding. “Fine.”
There was little else I could do anyway.
He waited.
Shit.
“I was told you’re …” I sniffed, licking my dry lips as he raised a brow, waiting. “That you’ve murdered people.”
The pencil scratched the paper again as he surmised, “I’m guessing that was a recent discovery on your part.”
“Yes,” I said.
“True.” Another scratch, which I guessed was him crossing out things on a list.
The way he freely admitted it had ice frosting my lungs.
I had to get out of there.
“I need to pee,” I whined, my thighs bunching for emphasis. “Badly.”
His nose scrunched with annoyance. “Your timing couldn’t be worse, honestly.”
