Redemption: Savage Duet: Part One

by Nicolina Martin

  I don’t get him.

  Is there a way to get through to him? To reach past the darkness that must exist inside such a man? To maybe make him leave us alone and realize there’s nothing to win, only losses to us all. I shudder. It’s not very likely, and the only thing that would happen is I would get sucked into that abyss too.

  If I’m not already there? Maybe I’ve been there for a very long time?

  Twisting and turning, I finally have to lift my baby back into her own bed because she’s groaning and starting to protest.

  And I can’t sleep.

  I end up tangled in my sheets and blankets and have to start over again, smoothing them out. And then it doesn’t take long before I’ve wrapped myself into a messy bundle again. My whole body screams at me. He’s out there. He’s sleeping only a few feet away, right on the other side of that door!

  This is a nightmare.

  I get up and start pacing the tiny chamber, immediately feeling bodily needs I have forgotten about the whole evening. My stomach groans and whines in protest from having been denied for so many hours, my tongue feels like sandpaper and I desperately need to pee. I’m at a loss as to what to do. I turn on the little lamp on the side table and the room is bathed in a warm yellow light. I look around me for a can, or a bowl to use, but there’s nothing in here but pillows, blankets, and books. Cozy things. Useless things. Items made for another life. Panic rises within when I even think of having to get past him.

  What if he doesn’t wake? What if he’s so tired he’ll sleep even if you tiptoe past him?

  My pulse races at the thought, but I’m not sure enough to take the chance of bringing Cece and try to get out, though. I just want to go to the bathroom. I carefully push at the door, opening the crack a little wider, and it immediately hits something unyielding. I swallow hard and close my eyes. Shit! I listen but hear nothing but my own heart beats. Finally I have to say something.

  “Christian?” I whisper.

  “Yeah,” he whispers back from the other side of the door.

  I bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling. “I need to use the bathroom.” At first there’s nothing, then I hear a floorboard crack.

  “Hang on a sec.” Something heavy scrapes the floor again and then the door opens wide, Christian’s tall silhouette filling it completely.

  I fight hard not to recoil. “I need to go,” I whisper.

  He regards me for a moment. “Sure.”

  I glance behind me. She’s sleeping peacefully. I swallow hard. It feels as if every time I see her it could be the last time. The air in the outer room is colder than in my bedroom and I shiver as I walk hastily across the chilly floor. I try to close the bathroom door behind me, but his arm sneaks in and stops it.

  “I’m not peeing with you watching,” I snarl.

  His eyes gleam in the dark. “And what would you do to stop me?”

  Every ounce of fight leaves me, and I slump back against the wall. He’s towering over me in the tiny bathroom, but I can’t even lift my arms to defend myself.

  “Jeez. Relax, Ker. I just need to make sure there aren’t any sharp objects in here.” He starts rummaging through the cabinet and when he finds a pair of scissors he takes a step back and crosses his arms over his naked chest. “I take it you won’t be trying to leave through there.” He nods at the window. “I’m not gonna check on you, but I will take my daughter if I find you’ve left.” His voice is quiet and soft, but the threat is as hard as the sharpened metal in one of his knives.

  I can’t help the tear that rolls down my cheek. “I just need to pee,” I whisper.

  When his hand comes up and wipes the wetness off my cheek, I close my eyes and steel myself not to jerk back. It’s not like I have anywhere to go with my back against the hard paneling. His fingers are warm against my cold skin, and unexpectedly soft. The memory from when I thought he was a man, and not a monster tears through me, twists in my chest like a red-hot rod. So many times that I’ve wished things had been different.

  What is it you want?

  I think I already know. I think I know what I must do.

  I don’t look again until I hear the sound of the door closing.

  I just need some time alone first.

  Christian

  She looks surprisingly relaxed, peaceful even, when I open the door to her bedroom after having shoved the couch to the side. Looking closer at her appearance, though, I see that her sluggish moves are zombie-like and her eyes are expressionless. It makes a shudder run through me.

  “I need to go to the bathroom.” Her voice is thick with tears.

  Well, of course.

  I sit on the couch, leaning my forearms on my thighs, staring at the wall that separates us as if it would tell me what she thinks and feels. My shoulder aches from the strain. It’s quiet and still inside. Outside the storm rages on. The cabin seems to be well built, though. It doesn’t even rattle.

  She takes her time. There are long silent pauses between the sounds of water flushing. Still I don’t hesitate even a moment. She’s in there. She won’t be risking her daughter’s well-being. Our daughter’s. Finally, I hear the tell-tale squeak of the hinges and the soft whispers of her naked feet against the carpeted floor. I glance at her. I don’t want to frighten her, but I don’t know how not to. I notice she has a limp.

  Like me.

  She looks dead tired.

  Like me.

  The room is dusky, only lit by the little light that shines through the kitchen doorway, but I still see the pained gleam in her eyes. I’m surprised when she crouches before me, her gaze searching. I don’t know for what. Something I’m sure I can’t give her anyway.

  “If I give myself to you… if I let you have… this—” She swallows hard and gestures to her chest. “Is that what you want? Will you leave us alone then?”

  My heart makes a leap that feels totally unhealthy. Up my throat and then hitting my stomach like a rock. Fuck, Ker… Like I predicted. What I can’t give her anyway. I don’t know if that should surprise me, or not, but I realize I’m not the tiniest bit interested in her whoring herself out. That’s not what I’ve been looking for.

  “Ker—” My voice doesn’t quite carry the words. “Don’t offer your body to me. That’s just fucking sick.”

  “But…” Her eyes fill with tears and her chin trembles. “What do you want, then? How can I—” She gets up and takes a step back. “What do you want to leave us alone? Money?” She doesn’t scream, but her whisper is terse and her posture stiff.

  “Go back to sleep, Ker,” I say, tired to the bone.

  “I—I can’t… Not with you in the house.”

  “So stay awake.”

  Silence builds between us until she suddenly bursts into tears. Her shoulders shake as she turns her back to me and starts toward the bedroom. I feel like I should say something to make it better, but what she wants I can’t offer. In fact, I’m not sure I could get away even if I wanted to leave. It’s too fucking windy out there, straight out dangerous.

  The door closes behind her with a soft click. She looked so small, so sad and worn. I have to fight myself to not go after her and crush her to my chest.

  Chapter 26

  Kerry

  I still can’t sleep. Instead I cry. How can there be so many tears? Where do they all come from?

  I’m awake when the scream pierces the room. She isn’t awake, really, she’s just dreaming. I pick her up and tuck her in next to me. Her squirming little body stills almost immediately. I jerk when the couch is moved again and the door flies open the moment after.

  “What the fuck’s going on? What are you doing?”

  I glare at the black silhouette in the doorway. “Nothing’s going on,” I snarl. “Go away.” I pull Cece a little closer and make sure the blanket covers both of us up to our noses.

  “Why did she scream?” The room is dark, but I can sense his suspicion. As he takes a step inside the room my heart rate picks up.

&nb
sp; “She always does that. Nothing happened. She’s sleeping.” My voice is raw and my throat dry, barely carrying the words I whisper in the dark.

  “Why does she do that? You mean she just screams… for no reason?”

  I roll my eyes. “Christian, she’s a baby. They do that. Now get the hell out of my room.”

  Just as I say it, I realize I feel a little safer than before. I’ve done everything. I’ve hurt him—badly—I’m still alive. I even offered myself to him. The look of disgust he gave me, as if he rejected the offer from a whore, lingers as if a layer of dirt covers me. I still can’t figure out what he wants, but I don’t feel an imminent threat to our lives anymore. I hug Cece tighter, taking comfort in her slowly rising and sinking chest.

  He glares at me, then his gaze wanders the room, as if searching for something suspicious-looking. Finding nothing of interest, he closes the door again and shoves the couch into place. I sigh with relief.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll think of something.

  Christian

  Last evening has taken its toll. I hurt everywhere, even though it helped that I found some Advil in Ker’s medicine chest. I hold on to them as if my life depends on it. Between my wounded knee and the pounding ache in my shoulder it certainly feels that way.

  My brain is working overtime, processing the last day—and night. More has happened in only a few hours than it normally does in a year. Things that mean something, that is. I suddenly have a beautiful little daughter. Well, I knew she existed, but I didn’t know. She’s fantastic. I would very much like to get to know the little kid. I want to protect her… and I think I can teach her a thing or two. Things she needs to know in order to survive. Things I’m sure her mother can’t possibly know. Wouldn’t want to know, no matter how tough she plays.

  I want Cecilia safe, and happy, and I want to be around making sure she is. But I have a strong feeling Kerry won’t consider herself safe—or happy—with me around. It’s an impossible equation and I don’t have a solution. I usually know perfectly well what I’m doing and having no sense of direction makes my head spin. It’s complicated.

  When the fuck did my life get complicated?

  But I know when. I know exactly when.

  ‘The name’s Kerry Jackson. She knows things she shouldn’t. Find her and take her out. Do what it is you do best, Christiano.’

  I keep turning and twisting under the blanket, the couch uncomfortable and too short. Kerry Jackson is sleeping a mere few feet from me, and that fact alone nags at my conscience, making me relive all of our previous encounters over and over again. All of them. Over and over. It isn’t pleasant. All the things I’ve refused to think of for so long finally catch up with me. When I tried to kill her.

  When I lost everything.

  No wonder I can’t sleep.

  While she is tucked away safely behind the bedroom door, I take the opportunity to boil two eggs and serve myself a few slices off of ham that I find in her fridge. I also wash my ruined shirt that will never look the same again, but it will have to do until we get back to civilization.

  We.

  I.

  I don’t know.

  I can’t fucking sleep.

  She offered herself to me. As if she sees herself like nothing but a piece of meat. I don’t get her. I thought she didn’t want to touch me. I can’t help the twitch of want, the voice at the back of my mind urging me to take the opportunity. I twist and turn and end up entangled in the blanket. I feel filthy.

  Sleep has almost, almost claimed my tired body when an agonizing scream pierces the night, loud enough to drown out the whining and groaning from the storm outside. What the fuck! I’m up and shoving the couch to the side in a fraction of a second. She’s up to something. I feel it. How the fuck can she get out of the house from in there?

  My cheeks heat up as I push the couch back into place after yet another fucked up encounter. ‘Babies do that.’ Right. My shoulder aches and I tremble from exhaustion as I fall back onto my temporary bed. I feel stupid. I don’t like feeling stupid. The feeling that I have fucked up beyond what’s salvageable keeps eating at my heart, making me nauseous, making me feel something I haven’t felt since after I tried to do Kerry in—remorse. I’m a monster. I’m nothing but a fucking monster.

  What the fuck am I doing here?

  Kerry

  There’s a knock on our door, I’m back in San Francisco for some reason, Dad’s alive but I have Cece too. When I open the door there’s a crying, tormented Christian outside. I try to shut it again, but he stops me and begs me not to shut him out. Cecilia comes running, she’s little still, but she can speak and she calls him daddy. When I turn around, I see my father with a gun in his hand. I turn back to Christian and he has a smoking hole in his chest. Sorry, he whispers before he falls.

  And Cece screams. For her father. For what I can’t give her.

  She wakes with her normal chatter. I can barely lift my head from the pillow. I remember dreaming, so I must have finally slept a little. I think I dreamt of him.

  “Momma, baba, ‘fut.”

  “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” She nods.

  Stumbling out of bed, I realize I’ve slept in jeans, T-shirt, sweater, socks… all of it. I’m sticky and dirty. I haven’t brushed my teeth since yesterday morning and there’s an intense pain in my stomach, from hunger I figure, even though I can’t sort one pain from the other as my whole body protests when I move.

  The wind howls outside our little house. Will it ever end?

  Any of it?

  I knock on our prison door. There’s a shuffle outside, the moving of the couch, and then he suddenly stands in my doorway. His eyes void of light, his cheeks hollow. Like in the dream, I realize with a shudder.

  “Are you still here?” I sneer.

  He grins tiredly. “All these things I don’t know about you, sweetheart. Like your morning mood, for instance.” His voice is dry, lacking energy.

  For a moment he appears so normal, and so… so tender, I have to look away. I don’t want to see. “I’m not your ‘sweetheart’,” I hiss. “And put something on, for Christ’s sake!”

  He’s still naked from the waist up, but has wrapped himself in a blanket. The sight makes my stomach clench, and what frightens me the most is that it isn’t from fear and disgust. Not even now. Not even after last night. A shudder runs through me. The main room is cold. I need to get a fire started. It should have been done yesterday, but I was a little preoccupied.

  “My shirt’s still wet. Well, hello there.” His tone changes and his features brighten. The difference is like night and day.

  I glance down and find that Cece has taken an interest in the man before me and is peeking out between my legs, smiling, waving and flirting with him. It stings somewhere deep inside and I snatch her from the floor, cradling her to my chest, stopping the little game between them. She’s too little. In her innocence she still can’t judge who’s good or who’s bad. I have a lot I need to teach her. “Can you get out of my way? I need to make her some breakfast.”

  He glances at the kitchen. “Sure. Let me just have a look in there first.”

  I can’t believe what he’s implying. “How do you expect me to cut the bread without a knife?” I snarl.

  “Guess I’ll have to do it then.” He shrugs and turns away from me.

  I glare at his back as he leaves for the kitchen, then I let her down on the floor as I quickly go to the bathroom. It’s still dark outside. It’ll take a couple of hours yet before the sun comes up behind all those clouds. Grabbing a diaper, I try to remember when the last time I changed her even was. Probably before her afternoon nap yesterday. She hasn’t complained but I feel like a horrible mother. Well, a horrible mother who’s been under some pressure. While he rummages through the kitchen, I clean her and give her some new clothes. I keep glancing at my front door. Could we make it? But the storm rages on without any signs of calming down and I doubt I would have a chance at collecting our out
door clothes without him noticing. I stick to preparing my daughter for the day, then I gather a couple of old newspapers and stuff them together with some dry logs in the fireplace.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  I’m just about to light the match and my balance isn’t the best after the ankle injury from yesterday. I squeal as I topple over from my crouching position and sit down too hard on my butt.

  “Yeah,” I mutter as I get up and strike the match, my heart pounding fiercely from his closeness. “You know the front door?”

  “Yeah,” he answers hesitantly.

  “Open it, get out, close it and don’t come back.” I refuse to look at him, and he doesn’t say a word.

  “Angwy, Momma.”

  Yes, Mommy’s angry! “Mommy’s gonna make some breakfast as soon as I’ve lit the fire, honey.” I watch the flames engulf the paper, curl it in orange and black serpentines, crumble the black letters and incinerate the news of the world. When I rise and turn, he’s still standing right behind me, his arms crossed over his naked chest. My instincts tell me to back away, but I can’t because of the fireplace. Cece’s on my right and the armchair is on the left, trapping me way too close to comfort.

  “We need to talk,” he says.

  “I don’t want to talk with you. We have nothing to say to each other and if you need to talk, I think you should go see a shrink.”

  A muscle on the side of his cheek clenches and unclenches repeatedly.

  I swallow hard when his eyes flare up. I glance down at Cece, then back at him. He follows my gaze and then he backs up a step, his lips tightly pressed together.

  “Later,” he rasps and narrows his eyes, before he backs away and leaves for the bathroom.

  Oh, God. We have to get out of here. I can’t help the tears that roll down my cheeks when I fall into a trembling heap next to my girl. “Come on, baby, let’s make you some breakfast.”