This isn’t a nightmare. This is real. It’s all real.
CHAPTER THREE
3
RACHEL
I try to sit up, but I can’t. The man is holding my shoulders down. I try to kick at him, but my legs won’t move. I look down and see another man holding down my ankles.
Oh, God. Are they going to rape me? Then kill me?
Out of instinct, I start thrashing around, trying to escape their hold, but they’re much bigger and stronger than me and my efforts barely faze them. I notice the man at my legs is now tying my ankles together. So I guess they’re not raping me. But why is he tying my legs? Are they kidnapping me? Taking me somewhere to rape me later? Or selling me? They could be human traffickers.
Their faces are covered in ski masks so I can only see their eyes and mouths. They’re dressed all in black. Black pants, black jackets, and black leather gloves. The room is dimly lit and they look like dark shadows surrounding me.
I’m gasping for breath but the tape has made a tight seal over my mouth. I focus on breathing from my nose, trying to get some air. The man holding my shoulders yanks me up to a sitting position and forces my arms behind my back. The other man comes over and ties my wrists together, then shoves me back against the wall, so I’m sitting up. He sits next to me, while the other man remains at the end of the bed.
“Shut the fuck up,” the man next to me says. “No one can hear you.”
I notice the muffled sounds coming from my throat as I try to scream. I didn’t even know I was doing it until he said that. I’m completely panicked. My survival instinct has kicked in to the point that I’m not even fully aware of what I’m doing. I halt my screams and focus on trying to breathe.
“This is a warning,” the man says in a deep steady voice. He takes something from his coat pocket and holds it in front of my face. It’s a cell phone. His finger presses the screen and a video appears.
“Hello, Rachel.”
Oh my God. It’s Holton.
The video is from Holton. He looks the same as he did three years ago. With that same smirk on his face that he always had when he got away with something he shouldn’t have. Like when he took Garret out of school that day. Pearce wouldn’t let me get mad at Holton, saying it would just make things worse. So I held my tongue, and the next time I saw Holton, he had that damn smirk on his face. The one I’m looking at right now.
“I assumed you were alive.” The smirk disappears and his expression turns dark. “Jack betrayed us. I don’t know how he was able to get you out of the country, but then again, he’s always been resourceful when it comes to matters of life and death.” Holton grins. “In case you’re wondering, Jack is dead. Before the plane crash, I discovered that Jack had been talking to my son for years, despite strict orders not to do so. I found the phone he’d been using to call Pearce. That was all the evidence I needed to prove that Jack would betray us. And he did. I followed him that night of the crash. When he stopped within miles of your house, I knew he was there to tell Pearce something, and given the timing, I assumed he was telling Pearce something about you. Perhaps that he’d saved you and was hiding you somewhere. So I killed him before he could tell Pearce the news. I shot him in the head.” He laughs a little. “It was quite satisfying. I always hated that man.”
I’m shaking. My entire body is shaking. What does this mean? He’s going to shoot me next? Is he here? Is he going to appear as soon as this video ends and shoot me in the head, like he did to Jack? Those articles said Jack had a heart attack, so did Holton somehow cover up what he did? Did he hire people to tell the media that Jack died from a heart attack?
Holton takes a drink of something from a short fat glass. Probably bourbon, his favorite liquor. “I had my men keep an eye out for you, just in case you were alive. For years you never turned up, and I thought perhaps you really were on that plane. But then you turned up on a street corner in Naples, Italy.” He chuckles to himself. “I’m surprised Jack didn’t warn you about the dangers of cameras. All that work to help you escape and then he leaves out that very important detail.” Holton takes another drink, then sets the glass down. “Jack didn’t know this, but the plane crash was my idea. I requested it be done as punishment for Pearce marrying you. The punishment was approved, but instead of doing it right away, I asked them to wait. There were things I needed to get in order before it happened, such as waiting for Katherine to be an appropriate age to marry my son.”
So Holton did this. He did all of it. Planned my death. Planned the timing of it. He must’ve forced Pearce to marry Katherine. He must’ve threatened him. It’s all making sense now.
“I had to do what’s best for my family.” He narrows his eyes and leans closer to the camera. “And YOU are not what’s best for this family. YOU were a destructive force that came into our lives and ripped my family apart. Humiliated us. Disgraced the family name.” He leans back and picks up his glass and takes a drink. “I should kill you. I should have those men in your room kill you right now and end this.” He pauses, and my eyes dart to the two men, checking to see if they have guns pointed at my head. They don’t. They’re still standing there, motionless, waiting for the video to finish.
“But killing you,” Holton says, “would put you out of your misery. It would be far better for you to remain there and suffer, knowing your family has gone on without you. Knowing that Katherine has replaced you. Knowing that she’s the one now sleeping in Pearce’s bed. Having his child.” He grins. “They had a girl.”
He pauses to take another drink. Is he lying just to hurt me? Or did Pearce really have a child with Katherine?
“Contrary to your plans,” he says, “you will not be returning home tomorrow. Or at any time in the future. You will never set foot on U.S. soil again. You will remain where you are, and that is where you will live the rest of your days. I will keep watch on you, and if you even attempt to leave, or attempt to contact anyone from your former life, there will be consequences. Consequences for Garret.”
I try to rip my arms free so I can take the phone and slam it against the wall. How dare he threaten Garret! His own grandson!
Holton is the most evil man I’ve ever met. I always knew he was bad, but I didn’t know he was this evil. I didn’t know anyone was capable of being this evil. He’s sick in the head. Completely deranged.
My efforts are useless. I can’t free my arms. I can’t scream at Holton. I can barely move or breathe. I just have to sit here and listen to his hateful message.
“If you want your son to be safe, you’ll heed my words. Don’t attempt to contact him, or Pearce, or anyone else. To everyone here, you are dead. No one knows you’re alive except for me and the men in your room. You should’ve died in the plane crash, and perhaps now, you wish you had. But since you didn’t, I will leave you to live in your own personal hell. And I will take pleasure in your suffering. It’s what you deserve for interfering with my family and disgracing my family name.” He smirks again. “Before I go, I should mention that your parents’ deaths weren’t an accident.” He looks right at the camera, his smile gone, his eyes narrowed. “No one plays father to my son. I am the only father he will ever know.” He pauses. “Heed my words. Or I will go there and kill you myself. And your son will—” The video cuts off.
I frantically look up at the man holding the phone, nodding at the screen. My son will what? What was he going to say? My son will die? Why did the video cut off like that?
The man takes the phone back and slips it in his pocket. I’m writhing on the bed, trying desperately to get free. The other man comes up beside me. I see a long needle in his hand.
“No!” I scream, but no sound comes out. Then I feel the prick in the side of my neck and everything goes black.
I awake to my alarm going off. It’s four a.m., which is the time I set it for. I yank at my arms and notice they’re no longer tied. I move my legs and notice they’re not tied either. I turn on the light by my bed, then shove the covers
back just to make sure I’m not imagining this. I’m not. My legs are free and so are my arms.
I touch my mouth. There’s no tape there and there’s no sticky residue on my cheeks.
Was that all just a nightmare? But it seemed so real. The two men standing by my bed. Holton talking on that video.
As I glance around the room, nothing seems out of place. There are no signs of a break-in. The lock on the door is still locked. The windows are closed. My suitcase is still there on the floor.
I go in the bathroom and check my face. There are no marks where the tape was ripped off. I check my wrists and my ankles. No marks. So it must’ve just been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare.
I exhale a sigh of relief, then wash my face and dry it with the towel. I go out to where my suitcase is sitting, on the floor just outside the closet. My clothes remain as I left them, neatly folded in the suitcase.
Celia will be taking me to the airport soon. I need to shower quick and get dressed. I grab a pair of jeans and a black sweater, but notice my envelope of money is sticking out the edge of my suitcase. Last night, I tucked the envelope under my clothes. At least I think I did, but maybe I didn’t.
When I go to hide it back under my clothes, I notice the envelope is too light and too thin. I open it up and see that the money is gone. All of it.
“No,” I say quietly, my shoulders sinking in despair. “It can’t be. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”
There’s something else in the envelope. I reach in and pull out a gold chain. Tears fall from my eyes when I see what it is. It’s the necklace Pearce gave me when I came home from the hospital after having Garret. There are two heart lockets hanging from the chain; one big and one small. I open the big heart. It used to contain a photo of Pearce and me, but now there’s a tiny slip of paper in it that reads, ‘heed my words.’ My hands are shaking as I open the smaller locket. It still has the photo I put in there. It’s a photo of Garret as a baby.
Oh, God. It was real. It wasn’t a nightmare. Those men were here. They showed me a video. A message from Holton.
It was all real.
But where did Holton get this necklace? It was in my bedroom, hidden in my jewelry box. Did he steal it right after the plane crash?
It doesn’t matter how he got it. What matters is that last night really happened. Holton threatened me. And he threatened Garret. Maybe he was bluffing about Garret. Saying it just to scare me. He wouldn’t really hurt Garret, would he? I don’t know. I really don’t.
That’s why he said it. He knows I’d never put Garret at risk. He knows how much I love my son. That’s why Holton made a threat he knew I couldn’t test the validity of.
He also knew that giving me this locket would nearly kill me. That it would break my heart all over again. Now, every day, I’ll look at this photo of my sweet baby boy and wish I was with him. I’ll agonize over the fact that he’s living with Katherine and having family dinners with Leland. I’ll have to live with the guilt and regret over the decision I made to come here years ago. I never should’ve left. I should’ve stayed and contacted Pearce right away.
Now it’s too late. I’m stuck here. Being watched. Threatened. Unable to go home. Unable to see my family.
Holton is beyond evil. There aren’t words to describe someone as evil as him. Maybe he wasn’t bluffing. Maybe he really would kill his own grandson. He tried to kill ME. And he killed Jack. And my parents. Oh my God. He killed my parents! He admitted it. He killed them.
I collapse onto the floor, sobbing, the locket still in my hand.
I’ll never get out of here. I’m trapped in this tiny town, having to pretend to be someone else. Living a life that’s not my own. And hating every second of it. All because of Holton.
Suddenly it hits me that this isn’t forever. Holton will eventually die. He’s in his sixties. He won’t live forever. And once he’s gone, I’ll go back.
That small remnant of hope gives me the strength to sit up and wipe my tears. I sift through my suitcase to make sure Holton didn’t leave me anything else. There’s nothing there. Just my clothes and my—
I rifle through my clothes, tossing them out of the way. It’s not there. Where is it? I clear out the entire suitcase, then search the outside pockets. It’s not there either. I check my dresser drawers, the nightstand, and all around the small studio apartment. But it’s not there. He took it.
Holton had those men take my passport so I’ll never be able to leave.
I have no money. No passport. He took everything. And left me with a reminder of what I’ll never have again. My son.
“Jill.” There’s a knock on my door. It’s Celia. “Are you ready?”
It’s now four-thirty and I’m still in my pajamas. I wipe the wetness from my face and answer the door.
“I decided not to go,” I say, putting on a fake smile. “I’d miss you way too much.”
She sees my face and my red eyes and I can tell she doesn’t believe me. But as usual, she doesn’t come right out and ask what’s wrong.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks, in a tone that’s inviting me to tell her more. But I can’t. Doing so would put her at risk.
“Yes. I’m sure. I’m sorry I made you get up so early. You can go back to bed. I’ll go down and get the bread baking.”
She reaches for my hand. “You know I would help you. If you need money for—”
“No.” I quickly shake my head. “I don’t need money. But thank you for offering. I should get ready.” I fake an even bigger smile. “The early birds will be arriving soon. I need to get the bread in the oven.”
She stares at me, knowing I’m hiding something, but simply nods, and then leaves.
I shut and lock the door, then fall to my knees, sobbing over what could’ve been. I was so close. I should’ve left yesterday. If I had, I’d be back in the U.S. right now. Why did I wait?
Now I have no money. No passport.
I’m left with a necklace and the looming threat that Garret will be harmed if I even attempt to leave.
Holton was right about one thing. I’m living in my own personal hell. And I can’t escape it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two Years Later
GARRET
“Garret,” I hear my dad yelling from the bottom of the stairs. Instead of actually walking to my room to speak with me, he has to yell at me from downstairs. Maybe if he didn’t make us live in such a huge house, he could actually make it up to my room.
“What?” I yell back. It seems like all we do in this house is yell.
“I need you to come down here and get your sister.”
Seriously? This is so fucking ridiculous. Why the hell did he even have a kid if he wasn’t going to take care of her? I’m only 15 and I’m the one always taking care of his kid.
There’s no way Katherine would take care of her. She doesn’t like toddlers. She thinks they’re too messy and too loud. Of course she’d never admit that to her friends, but at home I’ve heard her say it. When Lilly is older and able to take care of herself, then maybe Katherine will pay attention to her, but for now, she tries to push her parenting responsibilities onto me and my dad, and sometimes my grandmother.
We used to have a nanny, but then the woman tried to steal Lilly and my dad had to pay to get her back. She was just a baby, and after that, my dad wouldn’t hire another nanny.
I go down the stairs. My dad is holding Lilly. He’s still in his suit. He must’ve just got home from work. Usually he stays there until nine or ten at night but tonight he’s home early because Katherine’s parents are in town and they’re coming over for dinner. My grandparents are coming too.
Normally, I’d have to sit there and suffer through dinner with all of them, but I got out of it because of Lilly. I’m eating in the kitchen with her because apparently nobody wants a toddler at a dinner party, which maybe I could understand if other people were coming over. But this dinner party is all family; my dad, Katherine, and Lil
ly’s grandparents on both sides. Why the hell wouldn’t they want her there? I know why they don’t want me there. Everyone thinks I’m a screw-up. But they still have hope for Lilly, so you’d think they’d allow her to eat with them.
“Can you take her upstairs?” My dad hands her to me.
She started reaching for me as soon as she saw me. I spend so much time with her, I think she likes me better than she likes her parents.
When I take her, she smiles and grabs the drawstring on my hooded sweatshirt, twirling it around in her hand.
“Hello, Garret.” It’s Leland, Katherine’s father.
He comes up behind me and I cringe when he touches my shoulder. I hate him about as much as I hate Katherine. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. They’re both conniving, back-stabbing, lie-to-your face people who are only concerned with themselves.
I turn toward him, so that his hand falls off my shoulder. I don’t bother saying hello to him. Why play this fake nice act when we both know we hate each other?
“Are you still swimming?” he asks, a phony grin on his face.
“I’ve been swimming my whole life,” I say, hoisting Lilly up in my arms. “Why would I stop?”
“You wouldn’t.” He’s staring at me with this odd expression. Like he’s hiding some kind of secret. I always feel like he’s up to something but I can never tell what. “You obviously take after your mother. I hear she was quite an excellent swimmer.”
I look at my dad to respond. He gets furious whenever someone brings up my mom. He likes to pretend she never existed, which is one of the many reasons he and I don’t get along.
“Leland,” my dad says. “Perhaps we should go get a drink.”
Usually he’d get much angrier than that. Katherine must’ve told him to behave tonight. He has a hard time controlling his temper around Leland. The two of them don’t get along. Actually, they hate each other.
“I’m going upstairs,” I say, not wanting to be around Leland.
Only Her Page 3
