I Can't Trust You

by Roxy Gray

  As I look up, it begins to rain. Thunder booms somewhere nearby, a flash of lightning illuminating the depths of the woods. The droplets are cold as they hammer our skin. They slow me even further. The grass becomes slippery beneath Violet’s bare feet. My body fights me as I struggle to support her weight, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a full ten pounds lighter. She’s definitely thinner. Her back feels bony to touch.

  “We’re almost there,” I whisper as we near the edge of the yard. When we’ve safely reached the border of the forest, I collapse against the base of a tree with Violet.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, looking closer at her face.

  Her eyes are sunken, rimmed with darkness. Her lips are sickly pale, her skin red and splotchy.

  “I thought he was nice,” Violet murmurs, a tear falling from her cheek. “He said he wanted to help me get clean. I’ve been…using. I didn’t how to tell you.” Raindrops fall from the trees above, mixing with her tears.

  “I know,” I say, pulling her close. “I know everything. It’s okay.”

  Violet sniffs, her head rolling to one side as she begins to lose consciousness again. I feel her shiver beside me.

  “I’m going to try the police again,” I say.

  I reach into my pocket, fumbling for my phone.

  I don’t find it though, because my head is knocked into something solid.

  Violet’s weak scream is all I hear as I fade from consciousness.

  * * *

  “Violet?” I ask as I blink my eyes open, my pupils dilating to accommodate the darkness in the cabin.

  My head throbs. I feel groggy and lighter than usual. My vision is cloudy. I squint downward, confirming that my body is still intact. My hands are tied, as are my ankles. The rope is fastened to a chain, leading back to the same post Violet had been tethered to before. Violet. Where is she?

  “Violet?” I call out again, blinking my eyes to regain focus.

  “I moved her into the bedroom to rest,” Clay says in a soft voice. His shadow is discernible across the room, amidst other blurry shapes. As my vision clears, I see that he’s washing his hands at the sink.

  He looks no different than usual, sporting a grey flannel shirt, blue jeans and his signature dark frames. They’re perched on his nose like any other day, yet I’m seeing him in a different light. Despite Clay’s ordinary appearance, my perception of him has changed entirely in a few short minutes.

  “Clay, bring her back in here,” I say, my voice shaking slightly.

  “Sorry, Ivy. I can’t have you two together. It’s too risky for me,” he says, turning back to whatever he’s doing.

  “Risky? This whole thing is risky, Clay. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”

  He ignores me.

  “Violet?!” I scream, my gravelly voice cutting through the silence.

  Nothing.

  “Help!” I call out. As loudly as I can, until I feel my vocal cords vibrate all through my chest.

  Clay approaches me slowly.

  He looks at me pensively before stuffing a cloth into my mouth.

  “Ivy, I can’t risk anyone hearing you.”

  I continue to scream, the sound muffled by the musty fabric.

  “We’re miles from anyone else by the way,” Clay adds. He ignores my pleas and saunters back to the sink. “Nobody is around.”

  I scream for a few more minutes until my throat grows tired and the effort feels futile. My mouth is soaked with saliva, still full of the soggy rag. Everything is silent apart from the ticking of a grandfather clock on the wall. No cars, no planes, no sirens or wind. Even the noises of birds and animals don’t seem to exist within the confines of the cabin.

  I notice as Clay opens the faucet once more that his hands are stained with blood. Is it mine, or Violet’s? As I look down, a drop of red liquid falls onto my leg, providing my answer.

  This is wrong. All wrong.

  As I watch Clay, the creepy sensation in my body returns full force. My skin crawls in revolt and fear. Fear for Violet, and now for myself too. My hands tremble, bound together by the itchy rope.

  On the inside, the cabin is rougher than it appeared initially. Dilapidated, even. The ceiling is leaking water in one corner. One large hole exposes the roof rafters above. I can smell residual mustiness in the air. The floorboards are worn and warped with old blue paint peeling off the surface. Other than the old mattress I’m confined to, the only furniture is a table and two chairs in the middle of the room. The surface of the table is covered in bottles; some filled with water, others with pills or dark liquid. Beside it stands a kitchenette and a small woodstove.

  Though empty and in rough shape, the cabin is neat as a pin, pointing to Clay as its prime occupant. This must be where he spends his nights away. Not his parent’s place.

  Clay finally removes his hands from the sink, reaching for a towel to dry off. He retrieves a glass from the table and fills it with water.

  “Okay, Ivy. Open up.”

  He takes two pills from one of the mysterious bottles on the table and brings them to me.

  “You have to take these,” he says, gently pulling the rag out of my mouth.

  “I don’t want to,” I reply flatly.

  “Take them.”

  “No, Clay. You need to let me go. Violet too.”

  Clay shakes his head, an exasperated look on his face that I’ve never seen before.

  He sets the glass of water down on the floor and dries his hands on his shirt. He holds my jaw open with one hand. With the other, he deposits the pills onto my tongue, closing my mouth until they forcibly slide down my throat.

  “What did you just give me?” I ask, choking as the pills sink to my stomach.

  Clay smiles, cocking his head to one side.

  “Poison.”

  My eyes widen.

  “I’m just kidding, relax. It’s a sleeping pill,” he chuckles. Casual, as if he were making a knock-knock joke.

  I start to cry.

  “Is it? Really?”

  “No, but it won’t hurt you.”

  “Clay, please. Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m helping Violet. You should be thanking me.”

  My heart drops to my feet, the hairs on my arms rising straight in the air.

  “Helping…how?”

  “I’m making her better. You’re a distraction for Violet. She needs to focus on her recovery.”

  He speaks as if he were reading a fact from the dictionary, so sure of himself and the morality of the situation. Clay turns on his heel, heading into the other room. He pauses in the doorway. His face lights up at the sight of her.

  He’s living in a world of delusion, I realize. Does he think that Violet wants to be here? His demeanour is happy, excited even, as if he were a kid about to play a new game. A game that he’ll win, and we’ll inevitably lose.

  As Clay disappears from sight, I come to a haunting realization.

  If I don’t get out of here, I will die.

  Violet too.

  “Hey, baby,” I hear Clay’s low voice from the other room.

  The sound of Violet vomiting again reaches my ears. She moans in pain. The door shuts shortly after, hiding any further sound. She’s sick, but at least she’s alive. A few moments later, the sound of classical music comes from the bedroom, the melody reminiscent of a lullaby.

  I frantically search the floor nearby for anything sharp that I can use to free myself. I have to move slowly and carefully not to rattle my ankle chains. My hand grazes over the rough floor. I realize that it’s weak enough to pull up in its poor state. I tug at one piece with my clammy fingers, enough to separate a long splint.

  I press it against the piece of rope around my ankles, moving it back and forth with difficulty. The rope wears away just barely, but my ankle is cut by the rough wood. My skin is embedded with splinters.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, biting my lip as blood
appears.

  Clay’s footsteps become audible again. I quickly slip the wood beneath the mattress as he enters the room. “I forgot to give you this,” he says, going over to the sink. He retrieves the bucket and places it at my feet.

  “If you need to, um…you know. There you go.”

  I stare at it, avoiding eye contact.

  “Thanks, Clay.”

  At least he cleaned it.

  Clay turns, walking back to the doorway of the bedroom. “I know you think I’m a bad person, Ivy,” he bows his head.

  “I don’t think that,” I say. “We all make mistakes. It’s how you fix them that matters.”

  Clay ignores me, continuing on his own narrative. “It’s okay if you do. We can’t all fit into this world. This…society. Some of us just don’t work.”

  “Clay, there are people who care about you. Hurting women isn’t the answer.”

  “I’m not hurting anyone. You’re fine. So is Violet,” he says with a wave of his hand.

  “I’m not fine, Clay. I’m hurt. I’m locked in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, tied up on an old mattress.”

  “Well, I can move you if you’re not happy. There’s a woodshed out back,” he spits, still leaning against the door frame.

  “What about Violet? Or Simone? Or Bridgette?”

  “I’m helping them,” Clay states. “Well, trying. Simone didn’t want to come here. That was her choice. And Bridgette…wasn’t the one I wanted to help.”

  “What do you mean? Who were you trying to help?”

  Clay laughs. “Amanda. She’s a raging coke addict. I assumed you knew, with all the poking around you’ve been doing. How did you think she and Jasper met?”

  I gulp, a pit welling in my stomach.

  “I thought they met at the dorm this year.”

  Clay shakes his head.

  “Nope.”

  Of course, Clay would have been privy to all of the details of Amanda and Jasper’s relationship. He had a front-row seat.

  He walks back to the kitchen again, pulling a beer from a small cooler in the cabinet.

  “A true man’s drink, right?” He laughs, raising his bottle in the air in mock-cheers. He chugs the entire thing before taking another and drinking it too. “That’s what Jasper says. Everyone loves pretty ol’ Jasper, so he must be right.”

  Jasper. My heart stings at the thought of him. I’ll probably never see him again, which breaks my heart even more. And just as I make a mental note that Clay’s pills haven’t had any effect, I begin to feel something.

  My pulse quickens. So does my breathing, and my lips grow dry.

  “Don’t you think he’d be upset if he knew what you were doing out here?” I ask.

  Clay laughs, his voice suddenly deepening. When I blink my eyes again, he’s fuzzy. The room spins from left to right.

  “No, he definitely wouldn’t,” Clay’s voice booms, seeming closer now.

  My heart is beating even faster, the sound a sharp rattle between my ears.

  “I did it to him, once, too.”

  What the fuck?

  Clay’s face twists into a smile. He tosses the beer bottle into the sink, and I flinch as it hits the side with a bang. Somehow, it doesn’t break.

  “Violet and I are going to bed now,” Clay laughs.

  “Goodnight, Ivy.”

  He removes his shirt and pants, hanging them on the back of a chair. I watch, feeling increasingly woozy. Clay’s legs are mottled with scars. Some are from long, deep cuts. Others appear to be old, round wounds. He returns to the bedroom, his hand grazing his crotch as he shuts the door. The faint squeak of springs sounds as he joins Violet on the bed.

  I feel nauseous. My heart rate quickens. I begin to sweat. My vision blurs completely, and a buzz sets into my body. I can’t tell my imagination from reality. I force myself to sit up, attempting to return my breathing to normal. Maybe Clay really did poison me.

  I begin to feel faint, vertigo taking over my body again. It’s quiet in here. The sound of the clock is mind-numbing. My head aches.

  As I succumb to my heavy eyelids, I try to look on the bright side, because that’s what Violet would do. I owe her that much. And if I’m going to die anywhere, it may as well be with Violet by my side.

  Things could be worse.

  There could be violence or torture. None of that has happened…yet.

  But what’s worse than the threat of assault are the lingering questions in my mind. Why would Clay do this? Is it the first time? Did he really trap Jasper here, too?

  He’s not who I thought he was. And if he was able to keep this part of himself a secret for so long, what other demons could he be hiding? What else will he do before he finally lets us go?

  As I drift into darkness, limp across the sagging mattress, a forbidden thought enters my mind:

  What if he doesn’t let us go at all?

  11

  ___

  DESPERATION

  “Ivy? Are you here?”

  I see Jasper in a birds-eye view, walking alone through the woods. He’s holding a large flashlight, illuminating the dark forest.

  “Ivy?” He calls again.

  “I’m here!” I say, suddenly back on the ground, near Jasper.

  “You’re okay,” Jasper breathes a sigh of relief. He pulls me close. “I thought I’d lost you for good, baby. I’m so glad I found you.”

  “I’m fine,” I smile, pulling back to kiss his cheek. “Violet and I were just having a sleepover in the woods.”

  “Oh,” Jasper says. “Well, I missed you.”

  I run my hand up his shirt and kiss his lips, happy to have him back too. Things quickly get fiery. Jasper’s hands roam my ass, then slip into the front of my jeans. He kisses his way down my neck to the tops of my breasts.

  “I missed you too,” I finally answer. “And this.”

  I reach for his pants, palming his crotch. Jasper lowers me onto the mossy forest floor, sliding my jeans down to my knees.

  “Tell me you want it,” he grins against my lips.

  “I want it.”

  Jasper lowers his underwear, positioning his throbbing cock at my entrance.

  I blink, waiting.

  Clay appears in Jasper’s place.

  His body morphs too.

  “No, I want it.” Clay says, smiling at me.

  “No,” I scream. “Go away! Where’s Jasper?”

  “He’s dead, baby. But don’t worry, I’m here.”

  I scream as Clay crawls up my body.

  In my ears, I hear the faint echo of my name:

  “Ivy.”

  “Ivy?”

  “Ivy!”

  “Ivy!” I wake suddenly as if pulled from a coma by electricity. “Violet?” I ask, realizing the voice is coming from the bedroom, not from my mind.

  It’s near light outside. I must have slept for quite some time.

  “Ivy, Clay is gone. To get supplies. We need to do something,” she says, her voice pleading.

  Slowly, my consciousness returns. The memory of the day crashes down on me. How long have I been here?

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better,” Violet says, sounding weak.

  “I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” I say.

  Beneath my foot, I feel the piece of wood and pick it up between my hands. I forgot.

  Taking it beside me, I stab the wood into the fabric of the mattress, successfully creating a small hole. I desperately tug at the edges to enlarge it.

  “Not sure,” she pauses. “He keeps saying he’s making me better. But then keeps giving me things.”

  “What has he given you?”

  “Pills, powders…No idea what any of them are,” she slurs, barely audible from the next room.

  The hole finally large enough, I wiggle my tied hands into it, hooking the rope on a coiled spring. I rub it back and forth, successfully wearing on
the strands.

  “Violet, you still with me?” I call.

  A faint groan is her only response.

  I quicken my pace, rubbing the rope vigorously against the sharp wire.

  Finally, it splits free.

  I scramble to untie my ankles.

  “Violet, let’s go,” I say, running to the bedroom.

  She’s flopped across the bed, her eyes barely open. I begin to untie her feet.

  “Come on, wake up. We don’t have much time.” I say, patting her cheeks.

  “Take your phone from the drawer,” she says, shaking me off her. “I’m too sick to walk. Just come back for me.”

  “Violet,” I say, my eyes welling with tears. “I’m not going without you. It’s not safe.”

  “Yes. You. Are.” Her usually quiet voice is set with determination. Unwavering, though weak.

  “If he wanted to kill me, he would have by now.”

  I stare at her.

  “We both know that isn’t true.”

  “Even so. You need to go. Otherwise, neither of us will get out of here.”

  She nods firmly in the direction of the door.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, taking her hand in mine.

  “I know,” she smiles. “And Ivy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

  “Don’t say that. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  We finally let go.

  I take my phone and slip it into my pocket, giving Violet one last look before I disappear.

  Outside, I slink to the side of the house, entering the border of the forest. I feel unsteady on my feet, the after-effects of the drug still wearing on my body. Slowly, I make my way along the driveway.

  I check my phone again. Zero bars.

  I look up and spot a dark figure moving across the overgrown lawn. Shit.

  I dart into the woods, moving as quickly as I can without stepping on loud branches. It’s hard to see. Only a few rays of early morning light filter through the leaves. When I come to a large tree, I collapse on the ground behind it, peeking out at the cabin. It’s still totally dark. Silent, as if it were empty.

  Except I know that it’s not.