Tangled up in Hate

by Charlotte Byrd

  There’s barely any room to get around at all. And more importantly, there’s nowhere to go.

  It doesn’t have a window so the only way out of this mess is the exact way that I got in.

  And I can’t risk trying to go out the front door with so many people standing only a few feet away.

  Harley starts to cry. I hear her thick sobs clearly through the wall of the shower. I close the curtain slowly in front of me, giving myself a fathom of privacy, just in case someone decides to use the toilet.

  “I’m really sorry about the bad news.” I hear Detective Richardson say.

  “How can they just let him out?” another female voice asks. It must belong to Julie.

  “Didn’t they catch him with all of that crystal meth? Shouldn’t he do time for that?”

  “Sam has contact with the FBI and the police. He is a well-connected informant. Of course, I don’t have direct proof of this, but that’s what my sources tell me.”

  “So, what does that mean?” Harley asks.

  “It means that he is a very valuable asset to a number of investigators and that means that they need him out on the streets doing his thing in order to close cases.”

  “But what about what he did to me?”

  I can’t see her, but I can almost feel her shrug her shoulders.

  She is probably even tilting her head to the side right about now, trying to make it seem like none of this is her fault.

  I know the truth.

  She’s incompetent. Her whole department is useless. If they weren’t then both men who kidnapped Harley would be behind bars where they deserve to be. Or better yet, dead.

  “What do I do now?” Harley asks.

  34

  Jackson

  When it’s only the beginning…

  “Just stay put like you are doing now. Stay inside. Stay safe,” Detective Richardson suggests.

  There’s a moment of silence. I press my ear closer to the subway tiles to see if I’m missing anything.

  Then she starts to laugh. The sound is quiet at first but builds quickly into something seesawing between joy and mockery.

  “So, let me get this straight?” Harley asks. “You don’t know where Parker Huntington is, the man who kidnapped me and kept me tied up in a cabin in the North woods. And the other kidnapper? You just let him go, right?”

  No one responds.

  “And as for me? You think that my best plan of action is to stay put?”

  I can almost hear the sarcasm in her voice.

  “So, basically, I’m the one who will be serving time in prison, right? I’m the one who has to live my life in seclusion. Only go outside with a bodyguard? Everyone else, the people who did this to me, they can just go on with their lives as if they did nothing wrong.”

  Again, no one says anything.

  I reach for the shower curtain to run out there and take her into my arms, but I stop myself.

  Why are they being quiet? Don’t they see how much she’s suffering? Don’t they want to help her?

  “I’m fine, Julie. I’m fine.” I hear her say and I let out a deep breath that I’ve been holding in.

  I wonder if this is my chance to escape without being seen. If they are all standing away from the front door, facing the windows out front, then I can slip out just like I had slipped in.

  But I have no guarantee of where they are standing.

  Besides, Martin is quite good at his job. He may have made a bad decision in leaving her alone but is quick on his feet and aware of his surroundings. No, I should stay in this shower until they all clear out. Or at least, Detective Richardson does.

  I hear someone heading toward the door. Is she finally leaving?

  I hear a door swing open.

  For a moment, I think it’s the front door, but the light that streams into this room confirms my worst suspicion. Now, there’s only a thin vinyl curtain separating me and the person on the other side.

  I hold my breath and tuck myself closer against the wall.

  This room isn’t well heated, and the chill bites at my skin.

  In my effort to disappear, it dawns on me that I had closed my eyes. I open them slightly to a small slit and focus. Through the happy orange fish smiling at each other, I see that it’s her.

  Harley turns on the faucet and bends at the waist. She scoops water into her palms and throws it on her face. With her eyes still shut, she feels around for a towel above the toilet. When she finds it, she buries her head in it.

  I want to reach for her. I want to take her into my arms and tell her that it’s all going to be okay. When I peel myself off the wall, my knee cracks and she pauses. I freeze and wait.

  Neither of us makes a move for a moment and I pray that she doesn’t pay much attention to the sound that she has just heard.

  How many times do we hear something that sounds like something else?

  All the time. Please, let this be one of those times.

  Paused in suspended animation, I wait.

  And wait.

  She hangs the towel back on the door and looks at herself in the mirror.

  I can see my own reflection in it, but it’s grainy and only one of those things that you would notice if you knew what you were looking for; a man hiding in your shower stall.

  I allow myself to exhale but only for a moment. To not upset the equilibrium of the room, I take in a breath just as quickly.

  She turns the handle of the door and I finally look away from her. It’s almost over. Just wait a few more moments and everything will be okay.

  “What are you doing here?” Harley hisses, pulling the shower curtain back and exposing me for the creep that I am.

  My heart jumps into my throat as I stare at her unable to speak.

  “What are you doing here, Jackson?” she asks again. The tone of her voice is disapproving and discontent. But quiet. She doesn’t raise her voice, probably because she doesn’t want anyone out there to know what’s going on in here.

  “You have ten seconds to tell me before I scream,” she threatens.

  35

  Jackson

  When they find me…

  I have practiced what I would say were she to give me another chance numerous times before.

  I have practiced both long and short speeches, but I never practiced what I would say after she caught me hiding in her bathroom.

  My mind goes blank and whatever I was going to say I forget completely. Instead, I just open my mouth and start talking.

  “I love you. I have always loved you. The only reason I broke up with you was to protect you. I had bad people after me and I thought that if they didn’t know that you existed then everything would be okay. But as it often is in life, things don’t work out like we plan.”

  “You really hurt me,” she says.

  Her eyes narrow as she gives me a look of total pain.

  I know that there isn’t much I can say at this moment to make things right, but I have to try.

  This is the only opportunity I might ever have.

  “The reason I’ve been calling you and texting you and coming here…the reason I snuck in here while Martin was gone was that I needed to tell you that…I want you back. I love you and I want to be with you…forever.”

  The corners of her lips curl up for a moment forming the beginning of a smile. But a second later, that embryo of a smile vanishes as quickly as it shows up.

  “I can’t do this,” Harley says quietly.

  “Do what?”

  “I can’t be one of those couples that keeps breaking up and getting back together all the time.”

  “I don’t want that either.”

  I climb out of the shower and take a step closer to her. I put my hands on her shoulders. She tilts her head in the air and stares at me.

  “Harley, please. Let’s just…talk about this.”

  The way she is looking at me, the moment feels right. I move an inch closer to her and I press my lips onto hers.


  “Get the hell away from me,” she hisses, pushing me away.

  Before I can even really process what just happened, the door behind me swings open hitting me in the back.

  “Get down!” Martin screams into my ear. I drop to my knees as soon as he presses the barrel of the gun to the back of my head.

  “No, no, no, it’s fine! I’m fine,” Harley mumbles.

  Her words come out slurred in all the excitement.

  The round metal feels cold and hard against the nape of my neck and I hold my breath, hoping that a bullet doesn’t come out of there by accident.

  “Please, please, put that away!” Harley pleads, getting in between us and now it’s my turn to protect her. It’s one thing for him to point the gun at me. But it’s entirely another thing for him to point it at her. That, I cannot allow.

  “Martin, it’s me. I’m not here to hurt her.”

  I turn to face him, holding Harley out of the way of the prospective bullet. Finally, he drops his hand down to his side.

  Harley collapses into my arms with tears streaming down her face. Her whole body is shaking.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she mumbles.

  It feels like an hour has passed since Harley first caught me in her shower, but it has only been a matter of seconds.

  Martin says something to me, along with Detective Richardson and Julie who are hovering somewhere in the foyer, not far away from us, but I’m entirely focused on Harley.

  This whole thing brings her to her knees and she pushes both me and Martin out of the way to get to the floor.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I ask, getting down next to her and pulling her hair out of the way.

  She buries her head in the toilet and throws up. While I hold her, a wave of guilt comes over me.

  How could I scare her so much?

  How could I think that this was a good idea?

  I knew that Martin was there. Of course, he would pull out his gun. It’s his job, that’s why I hired him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glance over at Martin.

  He disappears into the main room along with Detective Richardson. Only Julie keeps hanging around the doorway asking Harley if there’s something she can do.

  “No, I’m fine,” Harley finally mumbles, wiping her mouth and flushing the toilet. Her whole body is drenched in sweat and her skin turns the color of porcelain. I help her to her feet.

  “I’m so sorry that I scared you so much,” I say over and over again as she washes her face in the sink and brushes her teeth.

  “I should’ve never hidden here. I should have never scared you like this.”

  After putting the brush back in its holder she wipes her hands on the towel and turns to face me.

  “You shouldn’t have snuck in here. You shouldn’t have scared me. But that’s not why I got sick.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, as a myriad of reasons for what could’ve made her throw up run through my mind. My thoughts immediately go to the most tragic. Is she really ill? Does she have cancer? Is she dying?

  “Jackson, I’m pregnant.”

  36

  Harley

  When it’s him…

  I can’t believe it’s him. He is actually standing before me and asking me to take him back.

  I have dreamed of this moment. I had imagined it a hundred times, but never did I think it would happen like this.

  Of course, I got scared when I first felt the presence of a strange man in my bathroom.

  I froze.

  It’s as if my whole body has gone into shock.

  It has to be Parker.

  I just know it.

  He finally found me and this will be the end.

  But then the figure moves just slightly out of the way of the tangerine-colored fish.

  His hair falls out of his face just for a second. That’s enough for me to recognize him.

  Jackson Ludlow.

  He forced himself in despite my best efforts to keep him out.

  What is it that they say about romantic heroes?

  In movies and books, they always act like stalkers.

  Well, I have a real stalker. And the truth is that they don’t.

  There’s a difference between someone who pushes past all of your boundaries to hurt you and someone who does it to get to you.

  They are merely shades of the same thing but those distinctions make all the difference.

  When I see him, I’m not afraid. I’m angry. A part of me is disappointed even. Not in him being here, but in the fact that it took so long for him to come.

  Why did you wait? Why did you leave me alone for so long? Why did you listen when I pushed you away?

  He tells me why he broke my heart, but none of those things make any sense. Someone is after him?

  What does that have to do with me?

  Why hurt the one person who was there for you?

  The one person who stood by you and brought you out into the light.

  Were it not for me, you’d still be wandering the hallways of your mansion all alone. And now? Now, everything is fucked.

  Jackson takes a step closer to me.

  He waits for me to respond. I don’t, so he takes that as a sign to go ahead.

  He presses his lips onto mine, and that’s when I have had enough. Who do you think you are? You break my heart. You apologize. I don’t accept your apology, but you just go ahead and try to kiss me anyway.

  “Get the hell away from me,” I whisper under my breath and push him away. He doesn’t have the right to do this. He doesn’t have the right to be here. No matter how much I wanted him to come. No matter how much I prayed for this very thing, now that he’s here, I don’t want to see him.

  My thoughts go in circles over everything that has happened. The one thing I don’t think about is Martin. I forget about the bodyguard who is currently speaking to a detective in the main room about my previous stalking situation. No, I don’t give them any thought.

  Not until he has his gun pointed at Jackson and my whole world flashes before my eyes.

  Time stands still and I feel like I’m about to lose him. I’m watching the worst day in my life in slow motion.

  If Martin were to shoot right now, the one person who means everything to me would disappear. The only thing I would have left is this feeling of overwhelming regret.

  I force myself in between them.

  I beg Martin to put the gun down.

  Jackson fights me on this. He had cooperated by getting down on his knees only a moment before, but when I start to protest, he comes to my side, making everything worse.

  But I know the truth. It’s not him who made things worse. It was me. I have to stop this. I have to make him calm down.

  I glance into Martin’s eyes. There’s nothing erratic in them. They are focused. Determined. If he were to shoot Jackson right now, it would be on purpose. But there’s nothing I can do.

  I try to get past Jackson to get in between Martin and him, but he stops me. He blocks me with his body.

  I hold my breath and wait. Finally, after what feels like a century, Martin drops the gun.

  And that’s when the wave of nausea hits me with hurricane gale speed. I don’t have time to think. I push past both of them and barely have enough time to open the lid before it all comes spilling out.

  Jackson leaps toward me, apologizing and asking me questions that I cannot physically answer. But he does hold my hair out of the way, and that is everything.

  Afterward, I tell him the truth.

  Why?

  What would be the point of lying? I’ve made up my mind about what I’m going to do. Julie and Martin already know. He’s the father. He should know as well.

  “Jackson, I’m pregnant,” I say.

  37

  Harley

  After…

  This sentence isn’t planned, so the words come out cold and unaffected. But that’s not how I feel at all.

  I feel everything
but that, but I hide that away within me for protection. If you’re not careful with your feelings, people might find out the truth.

  And then what?

  What if I were to tell him that I love him?

  What if I were to tell him that he is the only person I want to have this baby with? That he makes me feel like everything is going to be okay, even though right now, it seems like it’s the one thing that can’t possibly happen.

  “You’re…pregnant?” Jackson asks.

  He tilts his head as he looks at me perplexed.

  He doesn’t seem angry.

  He doesn’t seem disappointed.

  He doesn’t seem…anything. This lack of a reaction is what I’m not ready for.

  “But how? We used…protection.”

  I shrug and look away. His question makes it sound like it’s my fault when he was the one who bought it and put it on.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just…surprised.”

  I shrug and hang my head.

  I know that he has to have time to process this. I know that it had taken me a while before I was genuinely happy with the news, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to see him smile at this moment.

  “What are you going to do?” Jackson asks. I lick my lips and take a step away from him. He takes a deep breath, as if he is bracing for impact.

  “I would like to keep it,” I say quietly.

  I feel guilty that this decision is entirely up to me and I quickly add, “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to be. I just wanted to tell you. I thought that you should know.”

  “You don’t want me to be involved?” he asks, looking crestfallen.

  “No…that’s not what I said. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to…do anything.”

  “You are having my child. Of course I will feel pressure, but that’s a good thing. I want to be there. For you. For our baby.”