Tabula Rasa

by Kitty Thomas

  Shannon released my hair and detached the shower head. It was the massaging kind that could easily be maneuvered to ease sore muscles in hard to reach places, but every woman in the world knew what that kind of shower head was really for.

  Shannon knew, too. He held the pulsing spray between my legs, a few inches away so that the pressure of the water beat down against the swollen, aroused flesh between my thighs. After the first orgasm, he took the shower head away for a moment to let me semi-recover, then he started in on me again. He repeated this several times until I barely knew my own name and wasn’t sure I could hold myself up any longer.

  But that wasn’t a problem. After reattaching the shower head, Shannon held me strongly against him while he fucked me, finally seeking his own release. When he pulled out of me, he shut the water off and I slid to the floor of the shower, no longer trusting my legs, or even my voice.

  Shannon got, toweled off, and went back into the bedroom to change. I stayed where I was like this for several minutes—leaning my head against the tile, willing my legs to support me when I stood.

  He’d left a second towel for me next to the sink, and I secured it around myself. It was an extra large fluffy towel probably meant for someone much larger than me. I loved the quiet luxury of Shannon’s towels, the way they wrapped me up like a cloud on a warm sunny day.

  When I finally emerged from the bathroom, the towel wrapped firmly around me, both Shannon and his bags were gone. I went out into the hallway to find the white cat bitching at me because she always blamed me for everything as if every aspect of her little furry existence had gone horribly wrong the second I crossed the threshold into Shannon’s life.

  There was no sign of him downstairs, either. I made my way back to the main part of the first floor. He wasn’t in the kitchen. I glanced at the front door to find the security system armed, the red light blinking. I ran to the door and peered out the window to find the tail lights of Shannon’s shiny black Cadillac disappearing around the corner.

  I heard the faint sound of a cell phone ringing on the second floor. I took the stairs two at a time to get to Shannon’s room. The phone rang from a pair of pants draped over the dresser. I dug through the pockets and found the red phone—the one he used with his family—shrieking incessantly at me.

  “Shannon?” I said, hoping it was him. He hadn’t even said goodbye. Why hadn’t he said goodbye? Because you don’t matter. Nobody matters to him. Look at his non-response to what happened to you?

  “It’s Millie, dear. Is Shannon around?”

  I pulled back and just gaped at the phone for a moment. Was she serious? Why would I say Shannon into the phone if he was with me?

  “I’m sorry, he just stepped out,” I said, biting back all the sarcasm that wanted to come spilling from my mouth. None of this was Millie’s fault.

  “Oh, Elodie, I wanted to tell you... those green beans I sent home with you, you want to add a little bit of sugar and a little bit of olive oil to them and then cover them and let them boil almost down to no liquid. Leave a little bit in there, but not much. It’ll make the flavors kick more, like Shannon likes them.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. Do you want me to have him call you?”

  “Yes, thank you, dear.”

  I disconnected the call and sat on the edge of the bed wondering if I should do what I really wanted to do next. I knew the number for Shannon’s most recent burner phone. I’d been nosy and snooping, and he’d left it out. I don’t even know why I searched the phone’s information and wrote down the number. I probably would have never done it before I was reasonably confident he wouldn’t kill me. It was telling that instead of using the burner to call for help, I used it to find out what number I could reach him at. Of course, Shannon had been in the house at the time, and I’d only had a few moments to scribble down the number—not long enough to communicate with the police even if I’d wanted to.

  Despite my better judgment, I dialed the number.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” I said.

  “Are you calling from my other phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you have this number? More importantly, why are you calling this number? Do you realize I now have to get rid of that phone, too, and get a whole new permanent number for my mother? She’ll ask endless questions about why I have a new number. I’m going to have to ditch this phone and get another one. When we hang up, take the battery out of that one.”

  “Your mother wants you to call her,” I blurted.

  “Of course she does. Was that all you wanted?”

  “A-are you mad at me?” I felt like an insecure schoolgirl asking that, but what else was I supposed to think? He’d gone so cold and distant. I tried to shake that thought out of my head. He’d been cold and distant from day one. This was all just my own weirdness about us sleeping together and then him leaving like this without saying goodbye. It was hard to know how to behave when a sexual relationship was new, even under the best circumstances. And I had no idea how the script worked with Shannon. Maybe he was already regretting moving things to this level. Maybe he thought I was going to be nothing but drama. He was probably already rethinking whatever spark of feeling he’d thought I’d inspired in him.

  Maybe now that he knew what had happened with my Professor, he saw me as tainted somehow and didn’t want me anymore. That last thought felt too true, and I quickly pushed it away. I hadn’t sensed any of the ugly weight in Shannon’s words compared to Professor Stevens’, but maybe I was only hearing and seeing what I wanted and needed to hear and see to survive.

  “Why would I be mad?” He sounded genuinely confused. “Did you do something for me to be mad about? Besides calling from that phone?”

  “No. Why did you leave so fast? You locked me in. What if I need something?”

  He’d always locked me in, but it was never for very long. Not like this.

  “I told you. I have a job. I’m running late. I’ll talk to you when I get home in a few days. Remove the battery and do not use that phone again.”

  “Why am I removing the battery?”

  “So no one can triangulate the signal.”

  “But why would they do that? Who would do that? Is somebody after you?”

  “No. Not that I know of. These are just basic precautions. This is a normal part of my world you need to get used to.”

  “But...”

  Shannon sighed. “Elodie, just do what I say.”

  “But what if I need something?”

  “For God’s sake, the house is stocked with everything you need to survive without me for a few days. You spent months in an abandoned theme park with one other psycho and no access to the civilized world, and you survived that just fine.”

  Rationally, I knew he was right. I was actually sitting there panicking, worrying some unforeseen emergency would happen and how would I get medical care? I’d lived for months in a world where hospitals weren’t even an option, and yet this was my first worry locked up in Shannon’s clean, well-stocked house? I had a quick flash, wondering what Trevor would have done with me if I’d had a medical emergency. Probably let me die, but then I remembered he was a doctor and likely could have handled most things.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “What are you apologizing for?”

  “I don’t know. You’re mad!”

  “I’m not mad. Goodbye.”

  “Bye.” But I’d already heard the connection go dead before I said it.

  As soon as I hung up, I did what he’d asked. No matter how paranoid I thought his caution was. Though maybe it wasn’t over the top. He did kill people for a living. One didn’t exactly want to leave a trail of bread crumbs behind them while doing that. I wasn’t sure there was any level of paranoia that was too much under those conditions.

  I stared at the phone sitting on the bed with its guts spilled
out. At least his mother couldn’t call back again. I didn’t want to have to start coming up with excuses for why Shannon wasn’t there to take her call. I didn’t know what he’d told her as his cover story for what he did now, and if she thought he traveled for business. Maybe she thought he worked in an office somewhere now.

  As I stared at the phone, I finally realized what I had. A link to the outside world and plenty of time to utilize it. I could call for help. I could get away from Shannon if I really wanted to. The trouble was, I didn’t want to.

  And while I still didn’t want to deal with the police and a million questions, the idea of such a thing didn’t seem as traumatic with my memories back in their proper storage lockers in my brain. I just... didn’t want to go. Shannon’s house was a clean, safe cocoon from which I wasn’t ready to emerge—even if Shannon’s emotional range left something to be desired.

  I crossed to the balcony and, without thinking, opened the door and stepped outside. Winter in southern Georgia was pretty mild, unless this year was a fluke. I didn’t know. It was my first Georgia winter. I actually stood for a good five minutes breathing in the crisp morning air before it suddenly occurred to me that Shannon hadn’t armed the balcony door. The main door, the back door, and every single window was always armed, but almost never the balcony door. Shannon liked to go out there a lot and didn’t want to bother inputting the code to get in and out each time.

  I wondered if he’d forgotten about it in his rush out the door. Surely he normally armed it when he’d left me in the house all those times. But today, for whatever reason, it was unarmed. The wheels in my head started turning. Was this a test? It had to be a test. Or he doesn’t want you. He’s dismissing you from his life, you little idiot. If you don’t leave while you have the chance, he might just kill you and dump your body off with his buddy at the crematorium when he gets back.

  I know people can make mistakes, but Shannon... Shannon was the most precise person I’d ever met. He had a system for everything. He had a protocol for everything. He covered every single track he left no matter how minor or discreet. Shannon didn’t do mistakes like this. If he did, he’d be sitting in a prison cell right now.

  All I could conclude from this was that he’d purposefully left me a phone and an exit. The insecure schoolgirl part of me thought he was tired of me, done with me, and instead of tying up the loose end, he’d decided to give me a chance and let me go while he wasn’t looking. But then... the way he’d looked at me, even this morning. It was impossible to think something that intense could fade so quickly to casual disinterest.

  Or at least this was what I told myself. Maybe fucking me after knowing ugly parts of my history was somehow less satisfying to him. He’d left so quickly afterward. What did that even mean? What else could it mean but that he’d wanted to get away from me?

  But despite my negative inner monologue, I knew he wouldn’t release somebody who could destroy his neat, minimalist life. And I didn’t think Shannon could even pretend to be the noble type who would let me go because it was the right thing to do. Shannon didn’t give a shit about the right thing beyond the basic desire to keep his life as uncomplicated as possible. If someone or something got in his way, I was sure he would take care of it, and there were few if any laws or appeals to reason and morals that would sway him. He may not have killed an innocent yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t or couldn’t. If I pushed beyond my fears and insecurity, I just didn’t believe he intended to let me go.

  So that only left one option. It was a test. He wanted to see what I would do with the temptation of freedom. Would I try to escape? Fuck no, I wouldn’t. Even if I hadn’t grown stupidly attached to this man, no way in hell would I run. I had no doubts that Shannon could track me anywhere. He’d built that dossier on me, after all. And it hadn’t seemed too difficult for him to map out my whole existence. The news stories were months ago. I had no idea how he’d managed to piece it all together so quickly and easily, but clearly he had.

  Before my memories had started coming back, I could have said that he’d simply invented much of the dossier, but that was no longer true. And either way, he couldn’t invent my fluency in French. I’d planned to move to Paris before the accident had landed me in the hospital under Trevor’s care. I’d decided there was no future for me left here, and not enough people I cared about to warrant my staying. I’d known Trevor was dangerous. And I’d had the money to get far enough away from him that he would no longer be a threat. I did have friends in France.

  I’d wanted a new start. I just made the mistake of telling Trevor that. It had slipped out because I couldn’t resist the urge to let him know just how little control he had over me or my life. He’d manufactured this story in his head about how our life would go, how we’d get married and live happily ever after—us against the world. It hadn’t initially occurred to him that I actually could escape him, that I had the means and ability to be free. I didn’t need him.

  He’d flown into a rage and actually got into a car chase with me like right out of some cheesy movie. How smug he must have been when I woke in the hospital for that brief moment without a single memory in my head, with no way to know I’d wanted to leave him and the country. Now I could again. Technically.

  But all those plans were from my life before. While the idea of Paris still sounded nice in theory, I didn’t want to leave Shannon. And if I ran away, I’d no doubt make some amateur move, and he’d see it in plenty of time. And even if he didn’t, he would find me. He probably already suspected I’d go to Paris based on what he’d learned about me. And unlike Trevor, Shannon had the means and ability to follow me and drag me back. Realizing all this should have disturbed me. But for whatever fucked-up reason, it didn’t. The only thing that bothered me was the continued nagging fear that he might not want me anymore.

  There was a fine sheen of frost on the ground. It glittered like starlight under the weak rays of the sun. I leaned over the balcony railing. There was a trellis I could climb down. A fucking trellis. Like he’d set it all up for me. I went back inside before I froze to death. Winters in Georgia might be mild, but I was only wearing a towel, and my hair was still wet. I didn’t want to tempt fate.

  I went back down the hall to my room and quickly got dressed in some jeans, sneakers, and a light sweater. Back in Shannon’s room, I noticed the nightstand drawer beside his bed was open. I pulled it out the rest of the way and gasped. Holy shit, there was a lot of cash. Small bills, mostly twenties. There must be a few thousand dollars in there. It’s not that I considered this an inordinately large sum of money. My bio-dad had given me a staggering amount after all. This was small potatoes by comparison. But my interaction with money had always been through the medium of plastic cards and distant vague numbers on bank computer screens, which my brain refused to fully process as money—even though it could buy me things. So this was a large amount of cash.

  This was definitely a trap. It was all too convenient. Him abruptly leaving me, creating an emotional reason for me to leave... money in the dresser. Cell phone left behind—though that had been hidden in his pants and could have been an accident, but it also could have been intentional. Shannon never left his clothes lying around. Then there was the unarmed balcony door and the trellis with an easy way to the ground level and freedom outside.

  There was still a part of me that feared he wanted me gone from his home. Like he was tired of me, and maybe he did feel some spark of something that made him not want to kill me, but nothing else beyond that to make him want me to continue invading his personal space like this. But if he didn’t want me gone, it was definitely a test. Either way it was orchestrated, everything laid out so simply and enticingly.

  I grabbed a few hundred out of the dresser and put half in one pocket and half in the other. It wasn’t like I was stealing it. He had full easy access to my accounts if he hadn’t already drained them. I could pay him back. Though I doubted he cared if I did.

  I searche
d for a spare set of keys and was happily surprised to find one in the drawer with the money. I stepped outside and locked the balcony door behind me, then climbed down the trellis to the ground. Child’s play.

  I wasn’t going to run, but I sure as shit was getting out of the house for a while. If he wanted me gone, he could have a conversation with me and tell me himself. Or he could put a bullet in my head. Whatever. But fuck this. Even if I wanted to go, I wouldn’t leave this way. He had to be smart enough to know that by now. Maybe in the first day or two in his care I would have, but over weeks my feelings had changed.

  I’d known in a vague way that Shannon lived in a nice neighborhood, but now I was walking through it, experiencing it live. I wasn’t even sure what month it was, which, now that I had my memories back, seemed extra disorienting. I was sure it was after Christmas, though.

  I’d had opportunities to learn the date, but each time I’d only realized after the fact. Like when I’d been shopping online for clothes that first night... all I’d had to do was glance into the bottom right corner of the screen, but I’d been too flustered by everything. And the time I’d checked Shannon’s phone for his number. There wasn’t much time, and it just didn’t occur to me until Shannon’s phone was back in his pocket that I could have easily read the date on the phone. And even this morning with the red phone. I could have checked that, but I’d already taken the battery out when it occurred to me yet again. And by now I was too paranoid to put it back in. I was determined to remember to find out the date while I was out.

  I hadn’t realized how close Shannon lived to town. He lived in a small town near Savannah, called Stoney Oak. From what little I’d seen in the car with him, there might be fifteen thousand people here, if I was being generous in my estimation. His parents lived inside Savannah proper, but it was still an easy drive to get from one place to the other. I wondered how he felt about his parents living so close. They could just drop in on him at any time, but so far since I’d been here, they’d maintained a polite and respectful distance.