If I Dream

by K. M. Scott

  “Serena, leave this house. Do it tonight. Come with me and we’ll never look back. It’s the only way.”

  Shaking her head, she wiped her tear-stained cheeks. “I can’t. He’ll hurt my mother, and I can’t live with knowing that.”

  “You were willing to kill yourself to get away. Why is this any different? Either way, I have a feeling your father was going to hurt her. He’s a monster. That’s what they do.”

  “Because I wouldn’t know about it if I was dead.”

  As crazy as that sounded, I understood what she meant. “Are you going to try again?”

  I held my breath as I waited for her to answer, not sure what I’d do if she said yes. I knew I should be saying I’d get her help, that she needed to talk to someone who could show her suicide wasn’t the answer, but Robert would never let a doctor see her.

  She pressed her lips together and winced in pain before she answered, “No. I knew I only had one chance to get it right, and that’s gone now.”

  It was the saddest promise to live anyone had ever spoken.

  Standing, I moved to leave, but Serena stopped me by grabbing my hand. “Please don’t go. Sit with me like we used to when you were staying in the spare bedroom downstairs.”

  I knew when Robert ordered me to guard her that me staying with her hadn’t been what he meant. He wanted me to be that jailer, someone to watch over Serena to make sure she didn’t do anything to endanger his well-laid business plans.

  But as I looked at her sitting on the edge of her bed so lost, like some broken bird whose wings had been clipped, I didn’t care what he thought. If she couldn’t see a doctor, then all she had was me.

  I sat down next to her, the two of us still holding hands, and she leaned over and put her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ryder.”

  “You can’t marry him, Serena. You can’t.”

  She hugged me tightly and sighed. “I didn’t know what else to do. At least if I was gone, you’d be free. You wouldn’t have to stay here anymore.”

  Leaning back, I pushed her away and shook my head. “How could you think I’d ever be free? I was the one who found you. I held you in my arms as the blood ran out of your body and you nearly died. How could you think I’d ever be free after that?”

  Her expression contorted like my question hurt her. As tears welled in her eyes, she stood from the bed and walked toward the bathroom. “I didn’t know that would happen. All I knew—”

  I cut her off and followed her. Pointing at the tub, I said, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to find the one person in the world you love nearly dead in a pool of her own blood?”

  Pulling her into the bathroom, I pushed her in front of me and forced her to stand where I had that night. “Right there,” I said as I pointed at the edge of the tub. “That’s where the razor blade was when the EMTs left with you and I was left standing here covered in your blood. Free? I’m never going to be free of that ever, Serena.”

  She shook her head and ran out into the bedroom. Once again, I followed her, unable to stop my emotions now.

  With her back to me, she whispered, “I didn’t see any other way. You have to believe that.”

  Even from the across the room, I felt her sadness. It mixed with mine, twisting my gut into knots. “I have to believe you didn’t see another way other than killing yourself? Well, I don’t believe that. What would make you think that was the answer?”

  She spun around and shook her head. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about killing myself. Then you came into my life, and I didn’t want to die anymore. Even in Italy those first few nights when all I could think of was just doing it, I didn’t because I believed I’d see you again and we’d have a chance to be happy together.”

  Slowly, I walked over to her. Cradling her face, I looked down into her sad eyes and asked, “Then why would you do it now when you know how much I love you, Serena? How could you think I’d be able to go on after you killed yourself?”

  As tears streamed down over her cheeks, she said, “I couldn’t think of anything but him hurting my mother if I didn’t marry Oliver and how much it will hurt you if I do. No matter what I did, I couldn’t think of a way out other than taking me out of the picture.”

  I pulled her to me and held her close as she sobbed against my chest. “You leaving this world is never the answer. We’ll figure this out. I swear, Serena.”

  “Promise me something?”

  “Anything,” I said as I looked down into her watery dark eyes.

  “If we don’t figure out a way, promise me you won’t hate me for what I’ll have to do.”

  Tilting her head back, I kissed her as tears began to roll down her cheeks again. “I can’t hate the one person who makes me happy in this world.”

  I took her hand and led her to the bed, and like we had all those nights in that spare bedroom downstairs, she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder as I watched over her. Every ounce of my being screamed for me to take her away from that place, but I knew she’d never be able to live with herself if Robert followed through on his threats about her mother.

  She had no choice.

  Neither one of us did.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Serena

  Every day Ryder stayed with me became more bittersweet than the last because I knew one day soon he wouldn’t be able to come to my room anymore and I’d be given to Oliver like some kind of prized pig from my father. No matter how hard I tried to forget these realities, each night as I fell asleep I silently crossed off another day of freedom.

  That being watched by someone twenty-four-seven had become some sick sort of freedom didn’t escape me. I knew how twisted my life was. It didn’t matter. For the rest of it, I’d be just as watched. Just not by someone I actually cared about.

  I knew so little about my future husband that I might have been wrong to indict him like that. Maybe I would care in the least about him someday. Right now, he was practically a stranger to me. Someone chosen by my father for his strategic worth to his business interests and nothing more. If I liked him or loathed him was of no concern to anyone.

  Well, almost anyone. Although we never spoke about my impending marriage, I knew Ryder cared. He just never said anything about it after that first night, like if he didn’t speak the words everything we’d planned could still happen.

  But we knew the truth. All the plans we’d made just went away.

  My father visited me once each day like some long lost relative checking to make sure I was still among the living. His wide smile he flashed every time he walked into my room appeared forced, but I couldn’t imagine who he was pretending for. He didn’t care about my feelings on anything, and Ryder was simply one of his employees.

  Neither of our opinions mattered, so why take the time to feign concern?

  And so it went every day for weeks as I pretended not to hate being trapped like some breakable creature who needed to be watched every moment and Ryder and I pretended that what would happen at the end of this wouldn’t break both our hearts.

  Maybe hate was a strong word. I truly hated my father for what he was doing to me. There was no denying that. Sometimes I silently prayed for him to disappear so I’d be set free. I didn’t care if he just vanished into thin air or went away by other more violent means.

  I just wanted him gone so I wouldn’t be a pawn anymore.

  But I didn’t hate every second of my time my father referred to as my recuperation period. When he wasn’t terrifying me with that horrible fake smile and forced sympathy I knew he didn’t feel and when my sister wasn’t dropping in unannounced to pretend to play nursemaid, it was just Ryder and me and I could pretend we’d escaped and found that life together, just the two of us.

  By the third week, we’d settled into a daily routine. I’d wake up around eight to find him sitting next to me in bed wide awake and wonder when he actually slept. He’d smile down at me and my day would start. Then I’d shower and get re
ady as he waited for me. After that, we’d have breakfast in the kitchen or out on the patio and talk about things occurring in the world, as if everything we were doing was normal. Then I’d swim while he watched me, likely to make sure I didn’t drown myself, and lay out in the sun until lunch.

  My life had become something similar to a Hollywood starlet’s, except I never got to go to great parties or meet anyone.

  After lunch, we’d go for a walk around the estate like every fine lady in historical movies always did for some reason. All the while, we’d make small talk about topics neither one of us truly cared about and avoided discussing the important event that day by day was inching closer.

  Somehow we’d become near perfect strangers to one another. I didn’t know if it was my suicide attempt or my father’s forcing Ryder to watch me and knowing he was always watching us, but it felt like all the passion we’d shared simply evaporated, leaving the two of us like guests in one another’s life.

  Each night, we ate dinner in the dining room where a place was always set for my father but he never showed up. Then we’d go up to my room and lay on the bed to watch movies like normal people who liked to spend time together did.

  Except we weren’t normal in any way. He was my jailer and I was his prisoner, and no matter how much I pretended like this wasn’t true, that’s what we’d become. We’d loved one another completely, and then we became this. Even worse, the two of us were nothing more than mere pieces my father moved around the board like he did in his favorite game.

  Pawns. Expendable for any gain at any time.

  I settled in, stretching my legs out in front of me as the movie began, while Ryder kicked off his shoes and stretched his even longer legs down the bed. All day I’d had the sense something had happened with him. He sounded different as we talked on our walk that afternoon. I couldn’t place exactly how he seemed different, but I knew.

  “Have you ever seen this movie?” I asked as The Sting began. I’d watched it dozens of times growing up because it was one of my father’s favorites. Personally, I didn’t see the appeal, but maybe having it force fed to you lessened its enjoyment.

  Ryder looked at me and shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think so. We didn’t watch a lot of old movies in my house growing up.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “It isn’t good?” he asked with a curious look on his face.

  Shrugging, I said, “I’m told it’s a classic. A lot of people think it’s a four-star film. I’ve seen it so many times that even if it is I don’t like it.”

  “We don’t have to watch it then. I’m sure we can find something else,” he offered as he reached over me to grab the remote control.

  I didn’t want to watch anything. What I wanted was Ryder to tell me why he was acting differently tonight.

  He flipped through the channels, stopping at each one to ask me if I wanted to watch that movie or show. All I did every time was shrug and wait for him to stop so I could ask what was going on.

  Finally, he returned to The Sting and tossed the remote on the bed next to him. “I guess we’re going with the four-star movie then.”

  A strangeness settled in between us from my unwillingness to give him any help choosing what we’d watch and his indifference. After waiting for a few minutes, I couldn’t stand not knowing and turned to face him.

  “I know something’s happened. Is it something I should know about?”

  His expression seemed frozen in place as he stared at me for a long moment. Searching his eyes, I didn’t find the answer I wanted in them. They seemed as still as his face.

  He finally said in a low voice, “Your father gave me a raise and a bonus today for what I’ve been doing with you. Seems I’m his new favorite.”

  Once the words had left his mouth, I finally saw emotion fill his eyes. Not happiness or pride but pain.

  “That sounds like something you’d like. Why do you look like he threatened to kill you?”

  “No reason.”

  He winced and then turned to watch the movie, but I wanted to know why he was unhappy. Sitting up, I crossed my legs under me and poked his arm.

  “That’s not an answer. Why are you so miserable about being paid more and getting a bonus?”

  This time he didn’t look at me to answer. “It’s nothing, Serena. Drop it.”

  But I couldn’t drop it. Something else had happened that he wasn’t telling me about. Nudging his arm again, I said, “It’s not nothing. I want to know what’s going on. Wasn’t it enough? Were you hoping for more from this?”

  He refused to look at me no matter how many times I pushed on his arm, so I got up off the bed and stood in front of him, blocking the TV. “Why won’t you talk to me about this? I know this is your job, but I thought we…”

  I couldn’t bring myself to talk about how much we loved each other before all this happened and all the plans we’d had, so I said, “You sit in here with me every night until I fall asleep and you can’t tell me what’s wrong?”

  I wasn’t sure what part of what I’d said upset him, but his expression contorted into one of disgust and he stood up from the bed. “My job, Serena? When you bumped your wrist against the side of the pool as you were getting out the other day, I was the one who hurried over to make sure you were okay while you sat on the concrete crying.”

  As he spoke, his voice grew louder and louder until he was practically screaming at me. “When you’re going stir crazy because your father won’t let you away from this fucking house, I’m the one who sits here and listens to you complain about it, never saying a word about how being the one who has to force you to stay here feels. I’ve spent every day and night with you for the past three weeks because you chose to try to kill yourself instead of running away with me. This isn’t just a job, Serena. Don’t ever believe it’s just a job. It’s never been just a job.”

  “Then what is it, Ryder? What is this you do with me day in and day out that my father is so handsomely rewarding you for?”

  He took a step toward me and then another until I had to tilt my head to look up into his eyes. Rage radiated off him in waves, and for the first time, I worried I’d pushed him too far.

  “It’s fucking torture, Serena. Do you think I want to keep you locked up here knowing how much you resent me for saving your life? And at the end of this all, I get to watch you marry some other guy. I love you so much it fucking hurts, and you’re going to marry someone else. If you think you’re the only prisoner here, you’re wrong. The only difference is that instead of getting married I get more money from our tormentor. And as for being handsomely rewarded, he could give me millions of dollars and it wouldn’t take away the misery every day brings with it having to do this to you.”

  When he finished, he stared down at me with such pain in his eyes that I had to look away. I’d never considered how doing this to me made him feel. All this time I’d been consumed with my own misery that I hadn’t thought of his.

  “You can’t forgive me for what I did?” I asked, suspecting I knew the answer already.

  “For choosing to check out on everything we were and leave me without even saying goodbye?”

  I turned to see him glaring at me. “You don’t understand. You can’t. As soon as he said he’d hurt my mother, I knew I couldn’t leave. But I couldn’t bear the idea of marrying another man. I knew what I had to do.”

  With a sharpness I’d never heard from him, he said, “Kill yourself and leave me behind still in love with you.”

  His anger hurt, and I looked away so I wouldn’t have to see what I’d done to him. “Do you honestly believe I wanted to do that? If only he didn’t bring up my mother, I would have left that night with you and gone anywhere.”

  “You can’t even face me when you say that.”

  As tears filled my eyes, I turned to look at him, not caring that I couldn’t hold back my emotions anymore. “I love you, Ryder, but I couldn’t live with myself if my father hurt her because of me. I sat
right here in this room and tried to convince myself that I could run away with you. You have no idea how much I wanted to, but the thought of him hurting her tore me up inside. What choice did I have then? I didn’t want to marry another man. So I decided to do it.”

  “And leave me alone to live on without you,” he said sadly.

  I touched his hand and a rush of memories washed over me. This was Ryder, the man I loved, and I’d hurt him.

  “You have to forgive me.”

  He sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Like I have a choice, Serena.”

  Kneeling before him, I took his hands in mine. “You would have gone on and found happiness. Like when I went to Italy, you would have found someone to keep you company.”

  Ryder shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t act like this wouldn’t have affected me. Don’t act like you understand how I feel.”

  “Do you think I like saying these things? I can’t even think about you with someone else without feeling sick. I just didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, you did. You just made the wrong one,” he said before pulling his hands away.

  Hurt by his condemnation of me, I stood up and walked around the bed. “I hear your phone vibrate all the time, Ryder. Something tells me you wouldn’t be alone for long if I was gone. Your little Kitty would step in and fill my place like she did last time.”

  Ryder leveled his stare on me and shook his head. “Don’t say another word, Serena. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Something snapped inside me, so I rushed over to where his coat lay on the chair and pulled his phone out. Holding it up in front of me, I swiped the screen and turned it around for him to see.

  “What am I going to find if I check your calls and texts, Ryder? You sit here trying to make me the bad guy, but Kitty’s just waiting for you to finally say the word. Have you spoken to her? Do you text her back when she sends you a message? What do they say? What do they say, Ryder?”