by JM Darhower
He wiped away more of Haven’s tears and tucked her hair behind her ears, his fingers grazing over the duct tape once more. “I’ll be back in the morning. Stay strong, tesoro. I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.”
He stood up and headed for the door. It took a while, but she managed to drift off to sleep once more.
* * * *
“Are you awake?”
Haven’s eyes opened at the sound of Dr. DeMarco’s voice, his tone not as cold as it had been the last time she saw him. Squatting down in front of her, he peeled up the corner of the duct tape. “This will pull a bit, but I’ll be quick.”
He ripped it off, and she winced, her lips throbbing. Dr. DeMarco freed her from the restraints, and she rubbed her wrists.
“Take it easy today,” he said. “I’ll bring dinner home.”
Her voice was gritty as she spoke her first words since yesterday afternoon. “Yes, sir.”
He hesitated, his eyes full of understanding again. Haven had to look away. She didn’t want his compassion. She wanted nothing this man had to offer her.
She sat there after he left, her head slumped forward. She wiped her nose on her shirt and flexed her fingers and knees, trying to get the cramps out, but she was terrified to move.
After a few minutes, there was a knock on her door. Carmine stepped into the room with a glass of water and knelt down in front of her. “You should drink this.”
She took the water and tried to smile at his generosity but couldn’t manage it. Everything hurt.
Carmine held out his hand, a small yellow pill in his palm. “It's a painkiller. The kids at school would eat this shit like candy if they could. Just wash it down with the water. It’ll take the pain away.”
She took the pill from him and swallowed it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Do you think you can get up?”
He stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it, gripping the wall with her other hand as she got to her feet. The moment Carmine let go, her knees gave out.
He grabbed her before she hit the ground, his grip firm as he pulled her into his arms. A sob escaped her throat as she cracked, tears streaming down her face. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”
His face softened as he carried her to his room, laying her down across his bed. She was confused but lay as still as possible when Carmine disappeared into his bathroom, returning with his arms full of first-aid supplies. He dropped it all on the bed beside her and sat down, a washcloth in his hand. “I need to clean you up, okay? I don’t want any of this getting infected.”
She nodded, not knowing what to say. Carmine washed her cheeks, and the cloth was cold but felt good against her skin. He brushed it across her mouth, being extra gentle, and washed the dried blood from her wrists. Haven did her best to ignore the pain, keeping her attention on his face.
He rubbed ointment on her cuts before glancing up at her. He smiled when he saw she was looking at him. “Are you feeling any better?”
She nodded. “I think I can go back to my room.”
Hurt flickered across his face. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t want to impose. I know you don’t like people in here.”
He sighed. “You’re not imposing. I chose to bring you in here.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
He nodded and stood up. “I’m jumping in the shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, and she lay there, listening to the sound of water running. It soothed her, and she started relaxing as the drug kicked in, every ounce of pain disappearing from her body like a wave.
Chapter 9
Carmine walked over to the bed and paused beside it. Haven’s eyes closed, her face nuzzled into the pillow. He stared at her for a moment, baffled by his feelings. “Christ, what am I gonna do?”
Haven’s eyes popped open at the sound of his voice, a twinkle in them that Carmine had never seen before. “Do about what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “So, you’re feeling good, huh?”
She nodded enthusiastically as he sat down beside her. “Aren’t you late for school?”
“Yeah, I’m not going again. You’re stuck with me for the day.”
“I don’t mind,” she said softly.
He smiled. She didn’t mind his company. “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I survived. That’s what I do. I’ll keep surviving until I don’t survive anymore.”
“So, you're saying you're a survivor?”
She blushed. “Yeah, that didn’t sound very smart. I think I need a thes—uh, one of those books with words.”
He laughed. “A thesaurus?”
“Yes.”
Her words struck him. He wondered how much he could get her to say. “I’ll get you a thesaurus if you promise to use it.”
“Okay, I will.” Recognition flickered across her face. “You’ll have to read it to me, though.”
“You can’t do it yourself?”
She averted her gaze. “I can’t read, remember?”
“Truthfully?”
She hesitated. “I can a little bit.”
“How’d you learn?”
“People taught me, and I picked up some from closed captioning when my mistress watched the television.”
He shook his head. Who learned to read from closed captioning? “Why’d you tell my father you couldn’t? I mean, he wouldn’t give a shit either way, but he doesn’t like being lied to.”
“I didn’t tell him—Master Michael did.”
“I still don’t understand why it mattered to the Michael guy.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Smart people try to escape, because they think they can make it in the outside world. The ones who don’t know anything are easier to control.”
Her gaped at her. “Okay.”
Haven laughed, her carefree expression returning. “Is that an, ‘okay, I get your point, Haven,’ or is it an, ‘okay, I’m just going to agree with you, because I don’t know what else to say?’”
She was mocking him. “You did that all fucking wrong,” he said. “You didn’t even curse.”
“I don’t curse.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why not?”
“I’ve seen too many people have teeth knocked out from saying things without realizing they were saying them.”
“So not cursing has made you keep all of your teeth?”
“No, luck did that. As many blows to the face I took, I’m amazed I’m not more disfigured than I am.”
He scoffed. “You aren’t disfigured.”
“My nose is crooked,” she said, matter-of-fact. “There’s a bump.”
He squinted a bit, looking at her nose. “There’s nothing wrong with your nose, but how’d you get this supposedly horrific bump?”
“My mistress kicked me in the face wearing a pair of high heels.”
He cringed. “Why did she kick you?”
“Because I scuffed her shoes.”
Carmine knew it was wrong to pry, but she was being open, and he was curious. “How did you scuff her shoes?”
“It happened when she tripped me.”
“Why did she trip you?”
“For fun? I don’t know.”
His brow furrowed. “The bitch tripped you for laughs, got pissed because she scuffed her shoe, and decided to kick you in the nose for it?”
She nodded. “Do you want to know the color of the shoe since you’ve asked everything else?”
His eyes widened at her unexpected sarcastic tone. She realized what she’d said by his expression and covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I told you to speak your mind, and I meant it. I just didn’t expect such fire in you. And if you wanna tell me the color of the shoe, by all means, tell me. If you’re sick of my questions, just tell me to shut the fuck up.”
“The shoe was red, and I don’t mind your questions,” she said. “I can’t believe I had an outburst like that.”
He smirked. “It’s the drug. It wipes away the filter between your brain and your mouth. It’s why you’re being so honest with me, and why, in the past half hour, you’ve mocked me, gotten fresh with me, and confessed to me.”
“So when it wears off, I'll be in pain and embarrassed?”
“No reason to be embarrassed. I like uninhibited you.”
“Well, if you have questions, you should ask now because I don’t know when you’ll see me this way again.”
There was so much he wanted to ask her, so much he wanted to know, but what he wanted to know most of all he knew he couldn’t ask. He wanted to know if she felt that spark between them, but talking about feelings was too dangerous of a subject to approach. “So I hear you went out my window.”
She fidgeted, picking at her nails. “Did I get you in trouble?”
“No more trouble than I get myself in daily,” he said. “He came up here in the middle of the night and nailed it down, though, so no more scaling trees for either of us.”
“I panicked,” she said. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
“He wouldn’t…” Carmine trailed off. He was about to say his father wouldn’t kill her, but he wasn’t sure if he believed those words. “Why did you think that?”
“He said I needed to learn what happens when people forget their place,” she said. “My first master showed me people die when they forget. He murdered a girl in front of me.”
He didn't know what he’d expected to hear, but it wasn’t that. “Christ, you saw him kill a girl? Is that the worst thing you’ve seen?”
“Maybe. I’ve seen a lot, though.”
“Like?”
She averted her eyes. “Like my mama being raped.”
As much as those words sickened him, Carmine was immensely grateful for whatever pharmaceutical company cranked out those potent little yellow pills that made her an open book. “That’ll never happen to you here. You know that, right?”
She nodded, but she didn’t appear to be convinced.
“Look, sex can be great between people who want it. It feels good—feels fucking fantastic, actually—but I’d never touch a girl unless she wanted me to. That’s wrong.”
“Do you love those girls you touch?”
“No,” he said, feeling bad about admitting that.
“Have you ever been in love?”
He stared at her, unsure of how to answer that. “I don’t know. I think I’m still trying to figure out what love is.”
“Me, too,” she said. “It’s all very confusing.”
He pursed his lips in thought. Could she feel what he felt?
She yawned then, and he chuckled, knowing he couldn’t ask her that. Even if she said yes, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t drug-induced. “Why don’t you take a nap?”
“Do you want me to go back to my room?”
“No, you can crash here.”
He leaned back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Haven spoke again, her words slurring from exhaustion. “Carmine? What’s the worst thing you’ve seen?”
Carmine was silent, contemplating whether or not to answer. It was a story he’d never told anyone. His family knew the technical parts, the shit that made the newspaper, but he’d never talked about what he saw.
Could he tell her?
He glanced at her and smiled when he noticed she was already asleep. He would’ve told her, he realized. He would’ve told her everything.
* * * *
Haven groaned. Her entire body ached, muscles she hadn’t been aware of throbbing.
She opened her eyes and glanced around, confused by her surroundings. Taking a deep breath, the intoxicating scent of cologne invaded her lungs and assaulted every cell in her body. It reminded her of the smell in the air last year in Blackburn when a storm came and it rained for two days.
The bed shifted as Carmine sat down. “Need another painkiller?”
“No. I, uh… I’d rather not.”
“At least let me get you some Tylenol.”
She sat up, rolling her shoulders and stretching her back as he retrieved a bottle of Tylenol and a tub of cream. He sat back down and gave her the pills before grabbing a half-full bottle of water from his night stand. “I promise I don’t have any diseases.”
She took it from him and drank the rest of it. She handed the empty bottle back to him, and he glanced around, shrugging and tossing it onto the floor in a pile of dirty clothes. The room was somehow messier than the last time she saw it. “I could clean your room for you.”
He shook his head. “I’m not gonna make you do that.”
“I know, but you've been nice, so I’d like to do something in return.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Nice? Don’t say that shit too loud. It might ruin my reputation. And maybe I’ll ask for help with my room someday, but not today.”
She smiled. “Someday then.”
They were both quiet again, the silence awkward. Haven was trying to think of something to say to take away the building tension and lighten the mood, but she was drawing a blank. His eyes were watching her, and she couldn’t focus on anything but them.
She looked around the room again, needing to break from his gaze, and spotted the alarm clock. A quarter after five in the evening. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Yeah, you slept for a few hours,” he said. “Are you hungry? Want me to grab you something to eat?”
“No, I should try to move around,” she said. A strange expression flickered across his face at her response. “I appreciate it, but the longer I lay around, the harder it’s going to be when I do have to get up.”
“I understand.”
He helped her to her feet. Although she felt better, putting weight on her legs wasn’t easy. He kept a grip on her arm the whole way downstairs, hesitantly letting go when they reached the foyer.
“Do you want something?” she asked. His expression was unreadable as he shook his head, and she gave him a small smile before heading into the kitchen. She made a sandwich and stood by the counter, ignoring her throbbing knees as she ate her food. When she was finished, she hobbled to the family room and joined Carmine on the couch.
They sat together quietly as night fell. Carmine offhandedly flipped through channels, watching a program until commercials came on and then turning to another. It was a few minutes past seven when he came to rest on an episode of Jeopardy.
“This popular pasta dish consists of wide, flat noodles layered with meat, cheese & tomato sauce.”
“Lasagna,” Haven and Carmine said at the same time. They glanced at each other, and she smiled. “What is this?”
“Useless trivia,” he said, “like the bullshit they teach us in school.”
She turned back to the TV, eyes wide, and soaked up every single question that was asked over the next thirty minutes. She frowned when the show came to an end and turned to Carmine. He appeared bored, his head propped up with his fist on the arm of the couch, as he started flipping through channels again. She realized then he’d only watched it because of her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I liked that show.”
“It’s on almost every night at that time,” he said. “You know, in case you ever wanna watch it again.”
The front door opened a few minutes later, and Haven tensed when she heard footsteps. She could feel Carmine’s gaze on her, could sense it so powerfully she was surprised it wasn’t burning holes. She couldn’t look at him, though. She didn’t want to see his expression. She didn't want his pity. He’d treated her like an equal, and she didn’t want that feeling to end.
Haven’s gaze was downcast when Dr. DeMarco walked in, an uncomfortable tension entering with him. She felt like she was going to be sick but fought it back, focusing her attention on a smudge on the floor.
“Can you go up to your roo
m, Carmine?” Dr. DeMarco asked. “I’d like to talk to her alone.”
Haven’s heart raced as she picked at her fingernails. She tried to keep her composure and continued to stare at the spot as Carmine stood up. Dr. DeMarco walked over to the couch and crouched down in front of her, blocking the spot. She stared at loose thread on his shirt then, unable to meet his eyes.
He raised his hand. She recoiled, moving as far back from him as she could. She wrapped her arms around her chest, and he paused briefly before laying his hand on her knee. The queasy feeling flared, and she bit her bottom lip to keep it in.
“You should stay off of these for a few days,” he said as he ran his fingers across the tops of her knees and squeezed them.
She winced. “I’m fine, sir.”
“You have bursitis. It’s when the little sac above the kneecap fills with fluid. You need to rest and ice them so the swelling goes away, but it’ll be painful for a while. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I also have the results from your exam. Other than being underweight, you’re surprisingly healthy.”
“Okay.”
He let go of her knee but didn’t get up. It was uncomfortable, him staring at her, and she wanted nothing more than for him to go away.
“Look at me, please,” he said after a moment, his voice softer.
She glanced at him. There was sympathy in his eyes that made her feel even sicker. She knew it was wrong, but she had to look away again.
“Do you know what a GPS chip is?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a tracking device, sometimes as small as a grain of rice. My car has one in it. If someone steals it, I can easily find its location. It’s a security measure, so no one takes what belongs to me.” He paused. “You’re no different, child. You have one in you, too.”
At those words, Haven met his eyes again.
“They tracked you in Blackburn using hunting dogs, but I didn’t have that option. I injected you in the basement that first day, placing one under your skin so that no matter what happens, I’ll always be able to find you. It’s how I knew where you went yesterday.”
