Poisoned Ivy

by D W Marshall

  Light floods the pub entrance and I am temporarily blind because it is so dark inside, and even on a cloudy day, it is much brighter outside. I can barely make out the forms of two men, but I can tell by the heavy steps that they are men. Once the door closes I take closer inventory of the new pub customers. Before I left I would have shite my pants seeing Keegan walk into this pub, but not today. I mean, I said I wanted to test my survival skills, and I guess the good Lord was thinking no time like the present.

  “Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn’t the poor unfortunate Irish girl and her gaggle of friends,” Keegan calls out to me.

  I only offer him a kind smile. I feel nothing toward him. Not anger or hate, not love or fear or even like. I feel nothing. I learned that if someone treats you like shite, you should treat them like they deserve to be treated. Like nothing.

  “If I was truly unfortunate I would have actually married you, Keegan, so instead I think I will consider myself lucky, ‘cause getting kidnapped saved me from a very unfortunate life with you,” I shout back to him. The look on his face speaks volumes. He is shocked by my words. “Why don’t you and your friend come and join us for a spell?”

  My friends look at me like I have grown a third breast or something. I give them a look that says trust me, so they do.

  Keegan and his friend take us up on the offer. My girls scoot onto the bench next to me, while the guys sit opposite us. Another thing I learned, when dealing with a potential enemy…barriers are good, and a large, heavy wooden table in an Irish pub is perfect, because Keegan is definitely my enemy.

  I order a couple of pints for our guests.

  “This here is Cole,” Keegan says.

  “Hi, Cole. I’m Maeve. This is Saoirse and Ciara.”

  “So where is the black fellow you ran off with, Maeve? I am surprised you can walk after spending time with him. You know what they say about those blokes,” Keegan jokes.

  I smile at his attempt at humor. “He is back in the States. I’m sure you would refer to anyone of any nationality in that way, considering what you are walking around with between your legs,” I say and hold up my pinky finger. “And his name is Miles. Did Gemma realize what a fecking useless piece of shite you are and leave your ass yet?” I ask.

  I can see that he isn’t quite sure what to make of me. Could the drink be making me bolder? I see his wheels spinning in wonder.

  “Funny. To answer your question, we are still married and expecting our first child,” he says.

  Oh goodness, this is proof if there ever was that any pair of fools can make a child. “Well, I’d congratulate you but I should be out warning the government that you are procreating.”

  His friend and mine are laughing at our banter.

  “Seeing how you tried to off yourself because I broke up with you, seems like you would love to be in Gemma’s spot right now.”

  I don’t bat a lash. He doesn’t realize that I really feel nothing toward him. “Ha! I love that you believe it had anything to do with you and nothing at all to do with what I dealt with for a year. Then I realized that being there really did save me from you! I heard my da kicked your ass over it though, and your da’s at the same time!” I can’t contain my giggles. I’m tired of this shite. “Cole, would you take my girls up to the bar? Order whatever you’d like, it’s on me. I need to have a more intimate chat with my dear friend Keegan.” I make a face on the word friend.

  When they get up I move to the same side of the bench as Keegan. I know that I am giving up the barrier but I need him to know once and for all that I am not afraid of him. Nor do I care what he does, one way or the other.

  “That was fun,” I say.

  “Tons,” he says.

  “Listen, Keegan, it is obvious that we are going to cross paths, a lot. I want you to know that I don’t love you, I don’t miss you, I don’t think about you, and most important I don’t hate you. It is what it is. It didn’t work out between us and we are both ecstatic about that fact, are we not? We don’t have to be friends, we don’t have to be anything, or we can continue to slam each other at every opportunity. Your very existence offers a wealth of digs,” I say and smile.

  His turn.

  “Are you sure you are over me?” He has the audacity to lean in like he is going to kiss me. My hand grabs his face without hesitation and I slam his head against the back support of the bench we are sitting on. His shock is real and my grip is not tender.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  His hands go up in defeat. “Okay.”

  “So, it was nice chatting with you. My girls and I are going to continue with our date.” I get up and go back to my side of the bench. Another thing I learned: always face the door, another way to have more control over your environment.

  Keegan has been dismissed and leaves without another word. My girls come back and bring another pint for me with them. We are going to have to grab a cab if we keep this up.

  “That was fecking amazing, Maeve. Who are you?” Saoirse asks me.

  “I’m me.”

  We continue to enjoy ourselves. Every once in a while I lock eyes with Keegan and all I can see is respect in his eyes. In the way he nods in my direction or holds his pint toward me.

  I have conquered my demons. I whisper a silent prayer to god, thanking him for the strength.

  I have been home for a few weeks now and have settled into my life. My boredom is real though. I have enjoyed reacquainting myself with the twins and my folks. I bump into Gemma and Keegan occasionally, and they look happy. As I promised myself, I have continued my Krav Maga training and even added some parkour classes. I tumbled as a kid and teen so it comes easy to me. The rush and agility is what draws me to both forms.

  During the end of my first month home I realize what is missing in my life. Miles. I’m better now. I have proved to myself that I don’t need anyone. The relationships in my life are the ones I want. Sure, I think of The Chamber once in a while, but knowing what I know now about who I am, the nightmares are gone. I’m not afraid of the things that go bump in the night. I miss so much about him. How funny he is, how much we have in common, and the look of genuine love for me that was always in his eyes.

  I don’t hesitate. I dial his area code and number. The phone rings a few times before he picks up.

  “I was waiting for your call,” his tender voice says into the receiver. It speaks volumes.

  He was waiting for me.

  Epilogue

  Maeve

  It has been two years since I picked up the phone and called Miles. We are engaged to be married and are closer than ever. I don’t live in Ireland anymore. In fact, we don’t really live anywhere. We live everywhere. Wherever we want. We go back and visit my folks and his father whenever we get the chance.

  Right now we are in Seattle, Washington. I continue my training that is now part of my life—both of our lives. Miles is no longer guarding important people, though we are planning on putting down roots in the near future to set up our training center, so that we can teach people how to protect themselves. But that is the future. Right now we are enjoying the present which is a gift.

  We don’t go a day without telling each other what a gift our love is. We frequently show each other this very thing when we are making love. Miles has taken to enjoying my kinkiness and has one-upped me on several occasions.

  If we have children one day we will teach them to love themselves and the skin they are in. We will teach them to protect themselves, and we will send them into the world happy and confident.

  I have survived being kidnapped as a young girl, I survived The Chamber, and I have fallen in love with Maeve O’Malley.

  The End

  Read Eclipsed Sunshine, the next book in the Seven Chamber series.

  Eclipsed Sunshine Sample

  Chapter One

  Whitney

  “Are you sure it’s not too much?” I ask about my new dress, and the makeup, and the fancy hair. To be honest, I feel
like a doll being dressed up, and if I’m being really honest, this whole charade reminds of the place I don’t want to speak about.

  All this fuss over me, ensuring that not a hair is out of place, so that I’m the perfect play toy. I don’t want to go back there in my body or mind, but too many little things remind me of the worst year of my entire life. Nothing matters though, I’ve been home for three weeks and most nights I wake up in a cold sweat from a dream so real that it takes an eternity before I realize I am home—I am free.

  It could be something as simple as a smell that drifts through the air that brings me back to that awful room with the obnoxiously cheery yellow décor, the oversized bed fit for a queen, and the location of my worst imaginings. And somehow being home, standing here with my two best gals as they pretty me up for dinner with Thomas feels no different. In fact, it’s much worse. I feel like a fraud for trying to forget what happened to me—that the last year was something I made up. My friend’s think tonight is the night that Thomas is going to propose to me, just like they were so sure he was going to before I was taken. But, why would someone like me think that I deserve a happy ending, when I’m so obviously cursed?

  Who am I kidding? I stare into the mirror at my reflection. Gone is the fresh-faced girl with the light brown complexion that looked at the world with hope and optimism. I fear I will never be her again.

  “This is a bad idea.” I pull the earrings off, grab a tissue and start wiping off the lipstick. Nothing about any of this feels right to me.

  I shouldn’t be doing anything but crawling into my bed. I’m always so tired. My gals don’t get it, and I don’t expect them to. Unless they’ve been where I’ve been, they can’t.

  In The Chamber my life was not my own. My body belonged to someone else. An entire year can’t be erased with pretty dresses and fancy dinners. Makeup can’t cover up the truth. My friends don't have horrid images burned into their memories. Their faith in humanity isn’t shattered.

  When they look at me I know they see a young woman who has a full life ahead of her, who should be ready to face it with a grateful smile. They can’t possibly understand that I’m not that young woman anymore. She isn’t inside of me. I don’t feel her in my rigid smile. My heart that used to beat with excitement and joy, now only beats to sustain my life—I can’t even manage to conjure up enough hope, not even for tonight. I long for butterflies in the pit of my stomach and daydreams about the future.

  Chalice and Amaris had the best intentions for tonight, but if they knew what I suffered, they would know that everything about tonight reminds me of that place, my lost year.

  Spending hours getting dolled up for a man is the last thing I want to do. But, one look at my friends and I can see it in their eyes—hope. They stand and watch me with hope that I’m okay, hope that things can return to normal for me and for them. They don’t want me to be stuck, and I get it, neither does my mom, or my dad, or my sisters, or Thomas. But they aren’t giving me time.

  “Stop. What are you doing?” Amaris says, her warm island accent soothing, even in frustration, as she runs at me to grab the tissue from my hand. “I put a lot of work into making you look like heaven and you’re wiping it all to hell.”

  I flop onto the edge of my bed. I can’t tell them I don’t want to go out. When Thomas set tonight up, I was excited. The idea that he has welcomed me back into his arms knowing everything I’ve been through is an answered prayer. And when my gals and I went dress shopping yesterday I was floating on a puffy cloud. Grateful that after everything I’d suffered I can come home and have all of this, this, normal. The icing on the cake is a date with the man whose love helped me survive my year in captivity. Maybe, I’ve been lying to myself, and I do deserve a happy ending.

  Last night, I stared at my little green dress and imagined sitting across from Thomas and his amazing smile. I envisioned him proposing and of course, me saying yes. Thoughts of how tonight would go kept me up all night, and let’s be honest, it was much better than the thoughts that normally plague me.

  “I can’t do this. I need to call and cancel. I’m really tired.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You have to move on with your life, sweets. Thomas waited a whole year for you. How long do you think he will continue to wait?” Chalice asks.

  I shrug my shoulders. I have no idea how long. I know if I loved someone I wouldn’t implement a time limit, and I would want them at their best. I certainly wouldn't rush them after something so traumatic, but that’s me. Maybe three weeks is long enough. I mean, I don't want to lose him. What Chalice is saying is harsh but true, and I’m smart enough to know that everyone will scatter if I continue to walk around with a dark cloud over my head. What else can I do? Three weeks is all they’ve given me.

  Ignoring all the contrary feelings coursing through me, I glance around and note that this is my bedroom, not the yellow room that haunts me. In fact, there isn't a stitch of yellow in sight. My room is so different than that place. Thankfully.

  Missing are the elaborate and ornate furnishings, the sex toys, a bed big enough for four. Gone is the groomer who tended to all my needs. In its place my best gal friends who love me and everything that is, or was, simply me.

  “You’re right. I have to try.” I hand Amaris the tube of lipstick and she begins reapplying. While she goes to work, I think about my Thomas. We have been spending a lot of time together in the weeks that I’ve been home. He is everything that I remembered him to be—kind, patient, and loving. Having him to come home to lessens some of the pain from the last year. I can do this for him and for us. And if I’m lucky, tonight will be the night I dreamed it would be, the night that was stolen from me a year ago.

  I stand up, walk over to the mirror and gaze at myself. It takes everything for me to not feel like I’m preparing for an entirely different night. “Thomas said dress to impress,” I say in a soft voice.

  “And you, my dear, are dazzling,” Amaris says.

  Okay, Whitney, you can do this. You are not locked away in a gothic castle. You are home in your beloved Barbados. The sun is always shining, and you are free, I say to myself as I stare at my reflection.

  Amaris could work in The Chamber, she’s that good. I shake my head to douse the errant thought.

  My makeup is natural, just like I like it. My green dress shouts spring glamour. The hem rests about a foot above my knee and the dress clings to my curves. I feel naked. Since I’ve been home, I have avoided anything that makes me sexy. Baggy and loose has been my modus operandi. Standing here in this dress, I feel almost Chamber ready, and I hate myself for it. My heart is hammering in my chest and my stomach is queasy.

  “What’s wrong?” Chalice asks.

  I don’t answer her. The lump in my throat makes it hard for me to speak. When the tears spring forth from my eyes, I crawl onto my bed. My gals share the silence with me and climb onto the bed. “I don't think I can leave the house dressed like this.”

  “You look beautiful,” Chalice says with a question in her voice.

  “That’s just it. I don't want to look that way,” I admit.

  My friends don’t say anything, but I know them well and they want to.

  “I know it sounds insane. But the man who took me said he loved to collect beautiful play things. Maybe if I didn't wear sexy things he would have never noticed me.”

  They squeeze me tighter. “How can that be true? I’m much sexier than you, sweets, and he didn't take me,” Chalice teases, and it’s just what I need because I burst into laughter wilted with tears.

  “Seriously, though. If you change every part of who you are because of that evil monster, then you’re letting him win. He already took so much from you. You can’t let him have it all,” Amaris says.

  I nod; she’s right. That’s one of the things my therapist has been telling me in both my group and private sessions, and it feels right to hear it. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the path to getting back to the old me, and I want it, I need it. B
ut then other times, when I’m not in the company of my therapist or fellow trauma survivors, it’s an entirely different scenario. When my friends and family are with me, I feel so different, not like myself at all, and what’s worse is they all look at me differently too. I don’t think they do it on purpose; I don’t think they can help themselves. Around them, I’m bare. I don't feel empowered. I don't feel strong, and I’m afraid all the time.

  What if he takes me again? What if someone else does the same thing? How can I be me again? The old me? That girl is so far gone I wouldn't know her if she was standing right in front of me.

  “I’ll try.”

  The three of us sit up in my bed and share a group hug.

  “I love you guys.”

  “We love you, too.”

  Amaris wipes my tears. “We’re here for you, and we’ll help you through this, okay?”

  I nod my head and smile. But her words make the tears fall harder. I know I’m too emotional for all of this, but Thomas is so worth me trying.

  “You’ll be safe tonight. Thomas is tough. If there are any bad guys out there, he won’t let them near you, sweets,” Chalice says.

  My friends are right about Thomas; he loves me and I know he can keep me safe. He has been taking things slow with me, not to the point of treating me like glass, but close. I have been as honest and transparent about what I suffered as I can.

  As much as I want to forget, Thomas won’t let me; he says I need to speak about it so that I can heal. As resistant as I am, my therapist says he’s right and if he is someone that I can trust and open up to, it will only help me in my healing process.

  Recently, Thomas confided in me about his own struggles. I think it’s his way of showing his vulnerability to me. Thomas is a very proud and shrewd business man, so him trusting me with the knowledge of his recent financial woes and unemployment had to be very hard on him. He has never made our time together about him, but his honesty has made confiding in him easier—a little. He is attentive to me and my needs and promises me that we will both be okay. But I can’t help but feel responsible for what he has lost. He has never come out and said that it was my fault that he lost so much, but in some way, I have to believe if I hadn’t been kidnapped he’d probably be as successful as he was before I left. I can only imagine how hard it was for him while I was missing.