Life Interrupted

by Yessi Smith

  I’ll have to ask Mando for water, a wet rag, something to hydrate Poppa. If Mando wants me to play, he’s going to have to give in a little.

  With frenzied emotions whirling around me, I sit there and watch Poppa, his chest heaving up and down, while a tear streaks down my face. After brushing my lips gently over Poppa’s fevered forehead, I tear two pieces from the blanket and go back to Travis where I do my best to tie the pieces over Travis’s wounds. Once I’m sure it’s the best I can do, I lie down beside him.

  “You should go,” he urges me when I rest my head against his chest.

  I can’t go. He has to know that. If I leave to find help or save myself, Mando will kill Poppa and torture Travis. All in the convoluted name of love.

  I listen to his heartbeat, recognizing it as my own, and I fall further in love with not just him, but also the calmness he brings me. Even now, where death and pain encircle us, I can rest my head on him, and within seconds, the fear suddenly fades away, allowing me rest as I listen to the sound of his heart beating.

  “You have to go, Holly,” Travis repeats just before I drift off.

  I don’t bother answering. I’m right where I need to be.

  I awake quickly with a pounding headache that is only worsening with time. I ease off Travis, hoping I don’t wake him, as I scan my now dark surroundings, knowing Mando was back and shut off the blinding lights as we slept.

  I hate being in the dark. But more, I hate being in this shed in the dark. There’s no escaping it this time. As I thought so many times before, I’m going to die here. Worse, I’m going to die after watching two men that I love suffer and die.

  “Morning, princess.” While Travis’s voice sounds cheerful, but as my eyes adjust to the darkness, his weary expression give him away.

  I roll my eyes at him, willing to play along with whatever game he wants to play, if it’ll keep him from focusing on where we are or how we got here. “Why are you so chipper?”

  “Oh, I dunno.” He smiles his crooked smile.

  My lips twitch into a small smile.

  “Maybe because I had the most beautiful girl lying across my chest while I’m tied up. I’m at your mercy, princess.” He winks.

  But he isn’t just tied up, he’s shackled to the ground. The wounds from the arrows aren’t bleeding anymore, but they’re a long way from being okay. His eyes are practically swollen shut, and his lip is busted open, yet this crazy man winked at me.

  “Lame, Travis. Really lame.”

  “A man can dream.”

  He looks away from me, and I wince when I see the pain temporarily cross his face.

  “What can I do?” I ask, caressing his cheek with my fingers.

  “He brought a bucket earlier. I don’t know what’s in it.”

  I nod once and get up to walk toward the bucket on the other side of the shed. I pass Poppa, who’s murmuring in his sleep. I hope his dreams have taken him away from here, away from the fear, pain, and helplessness.

  “It’s water,” I announce when I look in the bucket.

  At least, I think it is, but there’s really no guarantee with Mando. It could very well be water mixed with arsenic. I lean down to smell it, but I sigh, knowing there’s no way I could actually smell something like arsenic.

  “Bring it over here, so we can have a romantic dinner.”

  Starting to hate that he’s trying to make light of this whole situation, I clench my jaws together, until I realize why he’s doing it. He thinks I’m going to crack. He’s seen me crack numerous times in Harbour Island, so it’s to be expected.

  So, why am I not cracking?

  With slow careful movements, I set the bucket down next to him and take a handful of water to my lips. After taking a couple of drinks, I close my eyes and wait. Travis keeps his eyes on me, so I lie back down beside him. I don’t rest my head on him so that if the water is poisoned, he won’t be left with me lying lifelessly on top of him. That’s positive thinking for you right there.

  “I was kind of hoping you’d give me some water, too.”

  “You just want to be catered to,” I say, wondering how long it takes to find out if I’ve been poisoned. Hopefully, just a few minutes.

  “I’m hoping for something since you won’t take advantage of me being tied up.”

  “You have issues, Travis.”

  “Says the girl who just drank water she thinks might be spiked.”

  My eyes widen in shock before I burst into a fit of laughter.

  “Am I really that easy to read?” I sit up, so I can look into his face.

  “Only for a guy who is mildly obsessed with you and has studied you, so he can get to know every aspect of who you are.”

  My cheeks heat under his intense stare, so I break eye contact with him, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “He doesn’t want to kill us, Holly—at least not before he’s satisfied that he’s made us suffer.”

  He’s right. Of course he’s right.

  I push back the tension building in my stomach and force myself to smile at Travis, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of me. Without saying anything, I bring the bucket closer to him and cup water in my hand. I carefully guide it to his lips. I lick my own lips when his lips part, welcoming the warm water from my hand. I go back to the bucket several times until he nods, letting me know he’s done.

  “I’ll clean up your face after I give Poppa some water.”

  The weight of seeing Poppa grows heavy in my chest, making my mouth dry. Reluctantly, I go to him, afraid of what I’ll find. I don’t know if I can take care of him. No matter what I do, he still might die. I’m helpless. It’s infuriating how helpless I am.

  “Poppa,” I say gently, touching his face. “Poppa, wake up.”

  His eyes flutter open, and surprise crosses his face when he sees me, making it apparent he doesn’t remember anything from yesterday. That’s probably a good thing. He brings the blanket I put on him yesterday over his chest and up to his neck as he sighs deeply, his suffering slamming into me.

  “Why did you come? You shouldn’t have come, Holl.”

  “I’m right where I should be, Poppa.”

  “Talk some sense into her!” Travis shouts in our direction.

  I glare at him.

  “Tell her to get the hell out of here,” Travis adds.

  “Who’s that?” Poppa rasps, his eyes already closing.

  “Travis. He came back with me after Mando called.”

  “She can leave but won’t!” Travis shouts, his words bursting and ricocheting off the walls as he pounds his fist on the floor.

  “Holly—”

  “You need water,” I interrupt Poppa, but beyond my stony resilience, Travis’s words scream in my head.

  They have to know I’m not going anywhere. Mando would torture them. If I stay, maybe he’ll just kill us all and be done with it.

  I get the bucket, and as I did for Travis, I scoop up water with my hand and bring it to Poppa’s lips. He instantly starts coughing after the first drink.

  “Easy.” After the coughing subsides, I give him another small drink of water.

  I stop when he grows sleepy and starts to doze off. Seeing his cheeks flushed, I touch my lips to his forehead and find that he’s running a fever. I pull on the blanket until a piece tears. I then put the small piece of cloth into the bucket and begin to place the wet cloth on his forehead, hoping to fight off his fever.

  After I finish, I go back to Travis, whose anger is acidic and spilling over, burning me in the process. Regardless, I sit down next to him and kiss the side of his mouth.

  “If you go, you can get Derrick, the police, whoever,” he says.

  But his eyes tell me he knows the truth as much as I do, and he’s simply trying to save me.

  “But what will I come back to, Travis?” I stroke his cheek, and when he leans into it, the pressure on the palm of my hand makes my resolve even stronger.

  “If you stay, none of us have a c
hance at survival.”

  “If I go, he won’t just kill you. He’ll torture you. I can’t, Travis. Please don’t ask me to do that.”

  Gulping my next breath, I take a couple more handfuls of water from the bucket to drink and then with trembling hands do the same for Travis before I take the same piece of cloth I used on Poppa and bring it to Travis’s face. His eyes never leave mine as I gently try to clean his face and his scratches. Our eyes meet, hold for a beat, and I wince when I press on his swollen eyes.

  I did this. I hurt the two men I love. Their ultimate deaths are on me.

  Suffocating in this small world overridden by despair, I quickly stand up, staggering when the room spins. I hear Travis call my name, but I continue my blind pursuit of clarity.

  My lungs collapse in themselves and I crawl deep into my own soul. I shouldn’t have left. The veils of darkness fall, the pressure in my chest increasing as my heart pumps the vile truth of our fate.

  Rays of sunlight hit our bed as Erica wakes in my arms the following morning, and I smile into her loving eyes. Today will be a good day. I lean into her and close my eyes when our lips touch. Her lips smile against mine, so I put my arms around her and bring her body closer to mine.

  “Mando,” she whispers my name, and it is almost understandable.

  Does she know I’m avenging her? Does she have some sort of instinctual knowledge that I’ve passed on to her?

  With her head tucked beneath my chin, she starts to hum “Open Arms” by Journey, and I join her, singing the words to her favorite song. I stroke her back and kiss the top of her head as I plan my day, reminding myself I still have to make Erica breakfast and check on Holly.

  “Dance with me?” I ask Erica. I can see the way her lips turn into a smile without looking at her face. I know the way her eyes twinkle at my question.

  Easing off the bed, I walk to her side of the bed where I help her sit up and then stand. I put my arms around her waist and wait for her to put her hands around my neck. When she rests her head against my chest, I begin to sing James Taylor’s “Something in the Way She Moves” into her ear as I gently sway her from side to side. She chuckles softly against me, and I know she’s remembering our twenty-five-year wedding anniversary.

  We renewed our vows in a meadow of bluebonnets in front of her friends with the sun smiling down at us. I’m still not ashamed of the tears I shed at her words of love to me, and I only wish my vows to her could have done my feelings for her justice. After the kiss, we danced under the stars and kissed some more. When the sun began her early ascent, I pulled her into my arms and sang that song while her friends cheered us on. When I finished, I kissed her with all the love she’d given me throughout the years.

  She was my soul mate. The woman in my arms is only the shell of the person she once was.

  If I were a merciful man, I’d release her from the hell she lives in every day. But I’m selfish, and if I can’t have my Erica, I at least need her body close to me to remind me to breathe.

  When I finish singing, I kiss her forehead, lingering to breathe her in, and guide her back to the bed where she lies down with a happy smile on her face. I love her smile—even now when her smile can no longer spread across her face like it used to.

  As soon as she finishes eating the breakfast I prepared for her after our dance and leave her resting in bed, I go to Erica’s old sewing kit and pull out a needle. I twirl it around between my thumb and forefinger, my eyes lit with joy and anticipation.

  Yes, today will be a good day.

  “We’re gonna play a little game, you and I,” Mando’s words and sinister smile keep me alert.

  Hell is coming.

  I look past him to Travis, who’s no longer shackled to the floor, but now, he has ropes tying his hands behind his back with another rope wrapped around his neck. The rope is thankfully slack, but it goes up, connected to a large ring on the ceiling. The other side of the rope falls down onto the floor.

  A pulley device. My skin crawls and I don’t want to think about whatever game Mando wants to play.

  He snaps his fingers to gain my attention. Regretfully, I pull my eyes away from Travis and stare at Mando.

  Mando’s happy eyes look back at me, too happy, but with a lifelessness only the devil would possess.

  “So, our game.” He sits down in front of me with his legs crossed and continues to twirl the needle between his fingers.

  I could take it away from him. I could. And then I could stab him in the eye, leaving me free to rescue Poppa and Travis.

  But what if I fail? The dread of failing paralyzes me, so I obediently look back at Mando.

  “Oh, Holly.” He pats the top of my hand, as if we were old friends. “I miss the fight in you, but you’ve made the right choice.” He reaches over to me with the needle in his outstretched hand, daring me to take it.

  My eyes dart past him, past Travis. I blink and force my mind to look past this shed.

  He closes his outstretched hand into a fist and laughs. “Good girl.”

  Taking my tense hand into his own, he stretches out my fingers, one by one. I know what’s coming. I’ve seen enough horror films. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, and then I continue to bite it harder as the needle gets closer to my pinkie finger. He slowly slides it beneath my nail. Inch by horrifying inch, he pushes it further. I shouldn’t—I know I shouldn’t—but I scream, a bloodcurdling loud screech that sends Travis into a frenzy.

  “You lose.” He smiles at me, uncrossing his legs and standing up with an agile spring to his step.

  Mando reaches for the rope hanging from the opposite side of the pulley system, and I scream again. I beg. I cry. And he sings.

  Just like before, he sings “Open Arms,” and it consumes me, reminding me of what this man is capable of.

  He pulls the rope with his hands, slowly at first, but as Travis’s feet begin to leave the ground, Mando seems to find some youthful energy and pulls harder, faster. Then, he leaves Travis suspended in the air with the rope wrapped around his neck, choking him.

  “You win!” I shout at Mando, trying and failing to get on my feet so that I can push Mando away from the rope. “Stop!” I wail. “You win, you win, you win!”

  Mando lets go of the rope, making Travis fall onto the floor with a loud thud. He lies there, pain casting shadows over his face, his anguish clutching me. I watch him hack until he vomits, but I don’t go to him because I know Mando wouldn’t want me to.

  “Let’s try this again.” Mando takes my trembling hand into his once again.

  When he goes to slide the needle beneath my fingernail, I close my eyes.

  “Open your eyes, Holly,” Mando says patiently before he continues singing.

  I blink back at him through angry tears, and I don’t close my eyes again. My teeth grind together and when it does nothing to abate the agony I’m in, I bite the inside of my cheek again, trying to focus on the pain there rather than the needle easing its way beneath my fingernail.

  He sings the last line of “Open Arms,” only to start singing it from the beginning again.

  I hold in my screams, but I can’t stop my body from shaking. Nauseous and with pain erupting in quiet bursts, I focus on my breathing.

  In and out.

  In and out.

  Like the needle in Mando’s hand.

  In and out.

  The pain and shaking become too much, and I hope the tears falling down my cheek won’t be cause for Mando to hurt Travis again.

  Travis. He screams my name between his coughing, but I don’t look at him or call back to him. I can’t.

  My left foot begins to tremble when Mando lets go of my hand. His smile is warm and inviting. Because we are playing his game, I try to smile back at him, but I find it difficult with my teeth chattering.

  “Love’s a bitch,” he says.

  I laugh.

  Small drops of blood drip from beneath my nails. Mando watches as the drops fall onto the flo
or.

  “You did good,” he congratulates me.

  Once I’m back on my feet and he guides me past Travis, who is glaring at Mando from the floor.

  “Don’t let him do this to you, Holly,” Travis demands, sparks of anger bouncing off him, but they never reach me. “Fight. You’re stronger than this. Fight!”

  Ashamed, I look down at the floor and allow Mando to use me as his own personal puppet.

  Mando sits me on the ground, next to a bucket of water. I’m not stupid enough to think he’s going to offer me water. I kind of wish I were. Even the tiniest bit of hope would be nice.

  Finally, I look back at Travis. He’s fighting his restraints, trying to reach me. He knows what’s coming, too.

  I lean my head against the wall, only to have it jerked away by my hair. A small whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, and Mando tsks. I grab for him, holding on to his hand with my own, and he looks back at me with something that resembles pity.

  “Don’t,” I beg him. “Please don’t.”

  “The rules are simple. You cry, scream, or beg, and your boyfriend suffers. It’s all on you.” He shakes my hand off his in disgust.

  I cover my eyes with my hands, but I owe it to Travis to watch. If he suffers, I’ll suffer along with him. I meet his eyes, and he smiles reassuringly at me as he winks. My lips twitch for only a second before Travis is once again hanging from the ceiling.

  I don’t scream or beg this time. I follow the rules. And I watch Travis’s legs kick in the air, trying to find the ground. He continues to hang until his legs begin to twitch slightly, and a small bit of hope spreads across my chest. Maybe he’ll die up there, and this will all be over for him.

  Mando releases the rope again, and Travis drops to the ground. At first, he doesn’t move, but then he takes in a ragged breath and coughs.

  The selfish part of me is grateful he’s still alive.

  Mando walks back to me and orders me to lie down. I try to take another look at Travis before doing so, but Mando pushes me to the ground. Pain radiates when I hit the side of my head hard and bring my hand to it. Mando takes my hand and places it at my side.