The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3)

by Palmer, Dee

  “You know I thought we could have a little fun here. I was going to show you all the places you are going to visit. I have done a journey plan and everything but you have to go and spoil it.” She haughtily admonishes my appalling behaviour.

  If I wasn’t speechless before I am now because she actually stamps her foot like a petulant child. “And I can’t have you bleeding. I hate the sight of blood. That is utterly unacceptable and as a punishment you will . . .” She pauses because I am pretty sure there is not much she can threaten me with because everything I do is for the good of the baby and it’s not like I bled on purpose. “Mmm, it’s tricky maybe I should let Clive come in and decide what is the best way to punish you?” I can feel my hands start to tremble and a gut wrenching roll in my stomach at the idea of being trapped in this small room with that man.

  “Angel I’m sorry.” I blurt out but I’m deadly serious if it will stop that horrendous scenario unfolding. “I’m sorry for laughing, it wasn’t because of the page, really, the page is great. I mean, it looks great you’ve done a really good job. I look like I’m having the best time, honestly. It’s just you have obviously gone to a lot of trouble and that picture with me and the hot guy, but . . .” I am rushing to speak and pray I am making sense not sealing my fate with cruel and vicious Clive. “Well, you want it to be believable and I just wouldn’t be lucky enough to get a guy like that.” I let out a deep breath and try to gauge her reaction as she seems to take in what I have just said. She walks back over to me and sits, her eyes narrowed on me like she is trying to see if I’m lying. I’m not.

  “True.” She elongates her words with a pensive drawl. “I mean you are nothing to look at so I guess it would be pretty ridiculous for someone that attractive to want you.” I can’t believe I’m nodding to encourage her line of thinking. “And this does have to at least try to be believable.” She smiles but then scowls and my heart jumps. “But what about Daniel?” I swallow the sudden dryness because she is right. There was Daniel and he is smoking hot and the fact that I wondered why he chose me doesn’t negate the fact he did choose me, at first.

  “Yes there was Daniel, but he chose you Angel.” I struggle to say this aloud and am proud that I don’t break as the truth of this rips me from the inside out but it seems to work. Her smile is pure poison but she at least looks satisfied.

  “Like that was ever a real choice.” She laughs and standing she walks toward the door. “But I think you are right so no Clive today, and not because I don’t want to risk the baby. I think there are plenty of ways he could punish you without hurting the baby. You might want to bare that in mind.” She closes the door behind her and the light goes out. I am glad I am not afraid of the dark because it is pitch black, I can’t even see my fingers when they are pressed against my nose. I wait for the chain to lengthen but shake my head at her petty cruelty, because she isn’t going to release the chain, not tonight.

  I have read the only fiction book that has been brought to me and I’m sure the irony was intentional; The Handmaid’s Tale. I comfort myself because even with everything Offred endures, in the end she did get away, with her baby. Not that I would know this from this copy but I have read this tale before so the missing pages are just evidence of Angel’s disturbing mind games. I can’t bring myself to read the pregnancy books because I don’t want to make this nightmare any more heart-breaking by reading that my baby has fingernails, toes and a fully formed heart. When I lie very flat and hold still I can feel a small bump, no bigger than an orange. Well, more like a Satsuma but it’s there and that is definitely too real. I lay my hand on the tiny mound and make promises I‘m not sure I can keep and sing songs that make me cry and not just because all I can remember are the saddest songs but because I really miss music. I never knew how much I would miss it until it just wasn’t there. Something so normal, background noise to everyday . . . gone like a chunk bitten clean off my body, gaping and sore. I never realised how much I listen to and for how long until I am deafened and driven mad myself by the never ending silence.

  The end of the second week and I have changed my mind . . . completely. I don’t miss music now and I definitely prefer the silence. I wake with a jolt to the blaring voice of Whitney Huston being pumped into the small room from God knows where. The noise so sudden I jump and look to see if someone had come in with a kick arse sound system without me noticing. At first I lie back with a smile; my face feels strange like the muscles had forgotten they could move like this. I can’t say I’m a huge fan but music is music and she does have a killer voice. That was the first day and apart from a small respite while Kit sat with me during my meal times it has been constant throughout the day. The next day it was the same but with Mariah Carey and the third back to Whitney and these alternate throughout the next week. I am loosing track of the actual days and I actually love the time when Kit stays, we don’t talk and the silence is blissful. When Angel stays she talks and talks and unlike the music which is now like white noise I can’t block her out in the same way because she throws random questions at me and if I don’t respond quickly she bitch slaps me.

  One lunch time Kit is just as surprised as I am to see Angel storm through the door. I glance at Kit and it is odd because there is a little panic in her eyes but also something else, something fleeting, something that looked a lot like hatred. It’s me, however, that physically retracts. Tied to the wall I have no option than to take what she’s dishing but what I wouldn’t give to have five minutes alone, untethered.

  “What the fuck did you do to him?” Her voice is screeching at me, eyes furious and she is suddenly right in my face.

  “Him?” I question but try and say it in a soothing way which isn’t easy when my whole body is shaking.

  Slap! “Like you don’t know who I’m talking about” Slap! She snarls, spittle spraying from her distorted lips. “You little whore. I want to know what you did to him because now he wants to come to the scan with me.” She grabs a fistful of my hair from the side and jerks it pulling my face into hers.

  “Angel,” I whisper. “I’m right here, what could I do? He’s probably just excited. You said you two were getting close” The tears trickle out of the corner of my eye, but the pain from my tortured scalp and stinging cheek, I would endure a thousand fold compared to the pain of hearing about Daniels treasured gift to her. Just one week from the wedding and Daniel has given her a necklace. But when she showed me, it wasn’t any necklace, it was my necklace, it was my collar. My heart did race, at first, when I dared to think that he was suspicious after all and this was his way of tracking her and finding me. That was over a week ago and if he was using the necklace to find me he would’ve found me by now because she never takes the damn thing off.

  “We’re having a baby of course we’re close but why does he want to see the scan? Why doesn’t he trust me now?” She sounds incredulous that anyone could think such a thing but lucky for me she pinches tighter and a cry escapes instead of my own incredulous laugh. “What on earth am I supposed to do?” She is calming down, her grip loosens as her control over her burst of colourful language tightens and her voice is heavy with uncertainty and concern. I have my own concerns, part of me is pleased that he isn’t just taking her word for it this time but part of me is terrified. If she is pushed into a corner will she pull the same trick as last time and hope guilt is enough to keep them together without a child. The outcome is bleak for Daniel but where would that leave me, pregnant and surplus to requirements. My precarious future affords me suitable motivation to offer some help.

  “Angel, why don’t you hire an ultra sound machine, take some pictures of my—” I draw in a sharp breath when her head snaps to mine. “—Of the baby and arrange to meet Daniel at your doctors but give him the wrong time. You can be there for him in the waiting room with your picture in your hand.” I hold my breath while she remains silent, still only inches from my face.

  “Don’t the scans have names and dates on them?” She mumble
s but I release my breath because I know she is going to go with this plan. Her body is relaxed and her lips curl into an ugly smile. If anyone can pull off barefaced lying its Angel, well, it’s Angel and Kit.

  “The dates you put in manually when you do the scan I would guess and the same with the name.” I offer because I don’t really know. I just assume it’s like any other procedure that involves a computer, you still have to input information. The scan will just reflect that truth, not the actual truth. She lets me go like I am suddenly offensive to touch and wipes her hand on her tight pink skirt.

  “Right, well, I hope that works for your sake.” She snarls at me and I don’t know whether she is disappointed that I seem to have dodged another bullet, literally. She waves her ever present gun toward me and leaves the room. I slump back and exhale a deep breath; the tension visibly evaporates but not just from me but from Kit too. She sits beside me and bites her cheek like she is preventing herself from sharing something. I decide to bridge this impossible gap. I know she won’t be happy taking orders like she has. I have seen signs, flashes of discontent nothing concrete but I do feel us both relax when Angel left the room. That was real . . . it’s a start . . . it’s something and it’s all I have.

  “What’s with the f—” I stop mid curse but her laugh interrupts my question and she tells me its fine to swear, that she doesn’t give a fuck and again that niggling feeling, that tiny grain of hope start to tremble with the first signs of life. I smile, hesitant at this very fragile relationship. “What I was going to say was what’s with the fucking music? I love music, I miss music but if I hear another soulful rendition of ‘I will always love you’ I swear I’ll . . .” I shake my head and rub my free hand through my hair limp and thick with dirt. “Well, we both know I won’t do jack shit because I am trapped in a room where everything is either nailed down or made of marshmallow.” I exhale but manage a frustrated smile.

  She snickers and the sound is sweet, genuine and I try not to stare. I quickly close my dropped jaw. I don’t want to spook her by making it so obvious that her reactions are so far from ‘typical.’ It’s like I’m sitting next to an alien. Kit is smiling, losing a battle with her need to laugh. “She doesn’t want you talking to the baby and she believes listening to the ‘best’ vocals will make the baby musical. Oh fuck, I don’t know.” Her shoulders start to shake and she can’t keep her laughter contained any longer. It’s ridiculous, the whole thing is bat-shit crazy so I do the only thing that helps and laugh with her.

  “She really believes listening to a singer with great vocals will make the baby a good singer?” I manage to draw in enough breath to speak but it is stuttered with proper belly laughs. I must look disbelieving at this because unable to speak she nods, holding her tummy and curling over. I wonder from this reaction when the last time she really laughed. “That’s crazy.” I state the obvious and she buckles again.

  “I know right!” She draws in a breath and straightens like she is trying to compose herself. Taking a moment she checks herself, reins back in and gives me a tight smile before the familiar cool fixed; detached expression falls back in to place. The chill is instant and harsh now that, for the first time here, I have felt some indisputable warmth flow between us. Sadly I can’t think of a time that happened before now. She picks up the tray and I get a surge of panic at her sudden but inevitable departure. I grab her arm and the tray wobbles but my sudden hold is soft so she doesn’t drop the tray. Her eyes fix mine and her frown just highlights her own confusion at our exchange but she pulls away and narrows her brow, stern, cold and angry once more.

  “Kit, please, don’t leave.” I beg for more than the reprieve she affords from the damn music. I beg because I want her there, I want her laughing and I want her warming a little but looking at her face now I know that that time, as fleeting as it was, is passed.

  “So that’s what that feels like.” Her voice drips with malice and she continues as I must just look confused at her statement. “To be needed. To be needed by you.” She tightens her lips and sneers before she opens the door and leaves. I am no more enlightened with her follow up statement because she didn’t sound angry she sounded upset. Is she upset that I need her, because I definitely do or is she upset that I have never needed her until now, because that isn’t true. I needed her for most of my life but I needed her to be the sister I can barely remember, the one before this one, the one I saw a glimpse of today. That grain of hope just sprouted its first root.

  THE SCAN WENT well, certainly better than I wanted. I managed to help Angel input the details according to my own dates and with the help of some on-line images we managed to print off something that looked like the right type of grainy pattern. The only thing that was really uncomfortable was that I had to drink litres of water and then wait ages for Angel to set the bloody machine up. The image didn’t really spark anything in me and I am starting to worry that I am deliberately distancing myself because I am finally beginning to accept the hopelessness of my situation. When she returned from meeting Daniel parading the latest gift, I realise I am not distancing myself I am biding my time because there is no way this bitch is going to have my baby. She went on to explain how excited Daniel was and proud that she was handling the break-up of her marriage so well. You know that she was so determined to not let it affect the baby. He had bought her the ugliest watch I had ever seen. It wasn’t ugly but it was oversized, gaudy, encrusted with diamonds with a large mother of pearl face and a chunky silver, probably platinum chain link strap. I didn’t care if it cost hundreds of thousands, it was ugly to me. She was delighted my plan had worked and I was delighted that after that, she left me alone for nearly two weeks.

  The music has continued to be piped every day but on the days where Kit is caretaker she turns it off and on days when Angel was obviously around Kit gives me her iPod but told me to only listen with one ear so I could still hear the door. This small act of kindness gives me such hope and each day I lay on my bed drifting off listening to a different playlist Kit has made. Loving that she has such great taste and thinking for the first time that perhaps my taste in music was maybe influenced by her, years ago, maybe. Whether that is true or not I love the fact that I can now hit repeat on some of my favourite bands, drown out Whitney and Mariah and pretend I am not going to end up dead in less than seven months. My hand rests on my abdomen and drifts to where the hard bump is just starting to grow proud of my pubic bone. I am loosing track of the days now but I know that this weekend it is just me and Angel. I wanted to ask Kit where she was going but I am still not comfortable with how much I need her and how much I miss her when she’s not there. I am not sure how telling her will do anything but make my situation that more vulnerable, as if that’s even possible.

  Angel has left me to eat my last meal of the day alone and when she returns she looks angry, immaculately groomed and dressed for an evening out but furious and I brace myself and my face for impact. She paces a few lengths of the room which doesn’t take long before she spins and points her gun waving hand at me with a face like thunder.

  “Why would he want to eat here?” She stomps and paces some more and I watch silently because I know that look; she is going to aim her venom and I am a sitting duck. “We never ‘eat-in,’ why does he want to eat in? I don’t cook he knows that. You are up to something!” She spits at me and suddenly stops waving the gun but holds it steady. My heart beats like a rapid fire rifle and I try to calm her agitation with a soft smile even though my jaw is clenched so tight my teeth hurt.

  “Angel, I’m here. I’m up to nothing but doing what you tell me. He chose you.” She likes to hear this as much as I hate to say it. “Perhaps he just wants some alone time, in private.” My voice is soothing but it serrates my heart when she smiles a knowing smile. That flash of understanding in her eyes makes me think that up until tonight maybe she hasn’t had any time alone with Daniel. The slight flush of happiness of that thought is dashed when like her, I realise that he i
s going to be with her tonight, alone and in private. She giggles.

  “Of course, how silly of me. You know I think it’s all the hormones making me a little crazy.” I think I just cracked a tooth, bat-shit doesn’t even come close to defining this woman. I need another category of crazy. She takes the tray and before she leaves turns with what she assumes is a naughty grin. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning?” The light goes off and I wonder how I am going to find my way to the toilet because now I really need to be violently sick. I leave it what I think is about an hour before I start screaming. I figure if Daniel is having a cosy night in with Miss Crazy as Fuck, and I scream loud enough he might hear me over all her lies. After I have screamed my throat raw and can barely make a whimper as I curl back on the bed and try to close my eyes without picturing Daniel holding Angel, Daniel kissing Angel . . . Daniel . . . Just Daniel.

  I would scream but the air needed to make the sound has been forced from my chest with the sudden weight on my stomach and before I can move to protect myself I am inundated with a rain of flying fists and hysterical screaming. The room is still dark but the slight light filtered through the open door casts a shadow across Angel’s face that only enhances her demonic behaviour. I try to shield my face from the blows; her tight fists pummel my face relentlessly. She is surprisingly heavy and my attempt to shift her is unsuccessful, if I could leverage myself up with my one free arm I might be more successful but I need that to protect my head. All I can do is hold my breath and wait for her to stop using me as her own private punching bag. My head is ringing and she catches my lip with one of her rings but I am quick to suck in the swelling, bloody tissue before she can freak out even more. She finally stops but I think that is more to do with exhaustion rather than intention because from the glare of her eyes she is in no way finished. I guess her evening didn’t quite go to plan. Glad I am sucking my lip right now because I am sure I would be smiling if I wasn’t. As Daniel said ‘I just can’t help myself.’