The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3)

by Palmer, Dee

  “He says he’s over you. He says you are nothing. He even says he can’t believe he ever deserved a second chance with me.” She thumps her chest in earnest, before she throws her head back and barks out a bitter laugh. “Then why won’t he take it? Mmmm? Why doesn’t he stay the night? I thought he was going to stay the night. That’s what you said!” She narrows her eyes and I feel instantly chilled to my bones. “You said he wanted to be alone with me. Do you think he doesn’t? Do you think he still wants you?” Her eyes are cold, wild and her voice is something less than human,more like an animal snarl. I shake my head vigorously and start to protest but she slaps her hand on my mouth and holds me still, her strength is a little shocking because I know from my own exercise routine that I have built up some muscle tone but I am rendered useless against her adrenaline induced super strength.

  She sits astride me, her face inches from mine and I can now see in the darkness she is wearing a long dark silk robe that has fallen open and now only partially covers a full ensemble of awkwardly sexy lingerie. Delicate black lace bra and panties with stockings and suspenders; and Daniel chose to go home. Well, at least I can understand why she’s pissed but that is hardly my fault. Her breathing is frantic, whilst I am scared to breathe at all. She sits up and shifts up my body so she is not directly on my tiny bump and even though she is almost naked straddling me I can focus on nothing but her lifeless, empty eyes. She reaches her right hand behind her and after a moment of subtle movement she brings it back into view but this time she is holding a knife. Where the fuck did she keep that hidden on her almost naked body! The room maybe dark but the blade gleams with ominous intent and I swallow so loudly it would be comical but I’m not laughing. I’m terrified. The knife is so much scarier than the gun, intimately violent, it offers no possibility of a quick end. There is no such luxury with a blade. Oh Shit. Shit. Shit. I never thought I would wish that Daniel had fucked Angel but I really wish he had now because nothing holds fury like a knife wielding Angel spurned.

  “Do you think he still wants you Bethany?” Her contempt is enhanced with her sickly smile.

  “No Angel I don’t.” I don’t know how I am keeping my voice so calm when I want to scream hysterically too.

  “Mmmm but you think he might one day? Mmmm?” She tilts her head like she is trying to visualise this and I don’t want her to visualise anything other than her and Daniel blissfully happy. Blissfully happy with my baby because only with that image firmly fixed in her crazy head, am I likely to survive tonight.

  “Angel, he wants you. Only you, he is probably worried it would hurt the baby if he. .” Even as I am trying to pacify her I can’t actually finish that sentence. I let out a breath but it’s hard to draw another one in because of her weight on my chest.

  “You know he loved your hair.” She muses but her voice is too calm and that’s the moment I start to tremble. “When he first told me about you, he went in to quite the detail . . . nauseatingly detailed actually, about your exquisite. . . . hmm. .” Her eyes glaze and narrow with unpleasant recollections.

  “Angel please.” My voice fails to remain calm like I need and the panic only makes her laugh but I beg over and over. The tears start instantly she grabs a handful of my hair and attacks with the blade. As much as I want to fight, the knife edge flashes so close to my face, my neck, nicking my skin that I freeze and only small sobs and gasps for breath escape my lips. Chunk after chunk of my hair falls from her hands and in the end I resign myself and close my eyes. It is only hair, it will grow back, that’s if I am ever given enough time to let it and if she wasn’t so afraid of blood it could be a lot worse. That is what the rational part of my brain is trying to say to the other part that is curled up in a corner sobbing its heart out and praying for the end, however it will end; I just want it to end.

  My lips are swollen and my left eye won’t open all the way but I don’t need a mirror to know I must look like I’ve been hit in the face with an anvil. Angel was relentless last night and if the bruises up my arm are any indication of what my face is like I don’t actually want to look in a mirror. I don’t have to because the look on Kit’s face tells me everything and more.

  “Holy Shit! What happened to you?” She places the tray down and sits beside me and I wince when I involuntarily raise my brow with a sarcastic roll of my eyes at her stupid question. She has the grace to look a little embarrassed and that in itself eases the sting. “Ok my bad. I know what happened but do you mind telling me why?”

  I close my eyes like I am trying to answer the meaning of life because I’m fucked if I know what goes through that crazy bitches head. I shrug because I have no idea why, I just know that this particular day, this particular trigger was Daniel. In fact, if I think back to most of her outbursts they can be traced back to something Daniel has said or done. “Bad date.” I offer my explanation and take a sip of water while I mentally prepare myself for another bowl of porridge. I used to love porridge now I don’t care if I ever see another rolled oat.

  “Fucking men, why couldn’t he just fuck her?” She grumbles and for a moment I think she’s talking about Daniel but I am kind of glad he didn’t ‘just fuck her’ even if my face is a picture of contradiction to that sentiment. She continues. “He couldn’t just shove his dick in and get it all over with . . . he has to be charming and sweet and seem like he actually gives a crap.” Her eyes snap to mine and she straightens her back and looks away. “Fucking men.” She mumbles again and I want to ask her what on earth she is talking about when I remember she’s had a weekend away. I have finished my breakfast and she goes to take my tray but before she picks it up I stop her with a heartfelt plea.

  “Please Kit, don’t go.” I suck in my swollen bottom lip as her face processes my request and fights all the reasons why she shouldn’t and all the reasons why she might, this time.

  “Why? Are you going to try memory lane one more time?” Her snide comment is only partially meant to wound because her tone is a little softer but I recoil all the same. My feeble attempt at connecting was more damaging than anything as I trawled through my memory bank. Kit had sat with me last week when I tried to get some connection going, tried to get her to remember better times. Like the time we talked our mother into playing hide and seek. Mum had never really had the time or inclination for these type of games and after I had begged for a good half hour she agreed. But when it came round to her turn to hide I had found Kit easily and then Kit and I had gotten distracted by the television and had promptly sat down to our favourite programme. I don’t even remember what it was now but I do remember the banging sound coming from our bedroom as the final credits rolled on the programme. Not only had we given up looking for Mum but she had gotten herself wedged down the side of Kits bed and had to wait until the television was quiet enough for us to hear her cry for help, she was so mad. I had started to laugh at the end of the story but Kit remained impassive, giving a tight smile she then asked me if I remembered what happened after that. When I shook my head she proceeded to tell me how Mum had sent her to bed with three strikes from the wooden spoon on the backs of her legs and I had just been sent to bed because it was my bedtime.

  Undeterred I tried another, one where I remember Kit had cared for me. Like the time when we were asked to pick the raspberries in the garden and I ate so many I got really sick and because Mum was working Kit had made me drink my medicine for the ache and had run me a bath, rubbed my back and stayed up with me until mum got in from work. She can’t have been much more than ten years old. I hold my breath as a small smile creeps across her face as she remembers but I let the breath seep sadly out as she recalls the aftermath when she was screamed at for being irresponsible and letting me eat all the fruit. Her pocket money was stopped for four weeks to pay for more raspberries because the ones I had eaten were supposed to be for jam. I think I have another story but I can’t bring myself to speak, sparse as they are, every tale I fondly remember is a nightmare for Kit and I can’t help thi
nk that maybe every tale would end this way. The consequences themselves aren’t horrendous but I guess, as a child herself, she must have felt she couldn’t do right for doing wrong. It didn’t take long before her hatred focused clearly on the one person causing all the problems. So using our shared history as a common bond, is likely to alienate her further. I can see that now, so my only other hope is to try and build a new history, hopefully one with a future.

  “Oh yes because that worked out so well for me last time.” I roll my one good eye and try to smile but my lip stings; she laughs lightly and relaxes to sit back beside me.

  “Yeah.” She draws out her sympathetically spoken agreement. “Not your finest work Bets.”

  I sniff out a snicker. “Maybe I’m like you after all.” She cocks her head and brow and looks at me in need of clarification. “Survival Kit . . . I just want to survive.” I hope my honesty won’t scare her off and I freeze just waiting for her to disappear but when she doesn’t move I let out the breath I was holding. I look at her and notice a slight nod followed by a shake. I need her to have this obvious inner turmoil but if it’s too hard I also need her to just not leave and if I make her uncomfortable she’ll leave. “Sorry.” I add quickly to change the subject. “So how was your weekend?” My carefree joking tone makes her laugh out.

  “Really Bets? Small talk?” She tilts her head but smiles and that encourages me that she is Ok with this, for now.

  “I’m Ok with small talk, any talk really. I missed you.” I she her straighten and her eyes widen but I chuckle.

  “Don’t panic, I’m not going all ‘Stockholm’ on you and I don’t think we’re ever going to be braiding each other’s hair any time soon but it’s boring in here and that fucking music, arghhh! So yes I missed you this weekend and look what happens when you’re not here!” I lift up part of my mismatched mop that clings to my head in greasy clumps. I must look delightful. She shakes her head but I can see her shoulders begin to shake a little and it’s not long before she is giggling and holding her mouth to stop proper laughs. I don’t hold back because, I want to laugh too, I am so sick of crying.

  “Ok just no falling in love with me!” She nudges me and I laugh again.

  “Fat chance of that bitch!” That does it, she curls over and laughs into her hands. The laughter dies naturally after a little while. “So the weekend?” I prompt because she didn’t actually answer me.

  “We went away. He took me to a strange little hut on the South Coast.” She stops and I can see she is nervous, uncertain because her fingers are fiddling with the sheet. Kit is never uncertain about men.

  “With Ethan . . . You’re still seeing him?” I haven’t asked her about the two of them because I have had other things on my mind. She purses her lips and I can see her clench her jaw.

  “What of it?” She snaps and I raise my hand in surrender and apology.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it really. I just thought you were with him to get to me and . . . well you have me.” I shrug because my logic is sound.

  “Yeah . . . that was the plan. That was certainly Angels plan.” Her tone is tinged with bitterness and I draw comfort again from the little signs of discontent in the kidnap camp. “She’s not entirely happy about me still seeing him . . . She thinks it’s an unnecessary risk but I’m careful and she doesn’t—” She censors herself before I can learn what Angel doesn’t do or like or permit.

  I may be wrong in feeling a shift between us but I am also worried that I may not survive the next time Daniel fucks up. I need to push a little harder with Kit. I pause while I try to think because however I say what I want to say is going to sound like a lie to get her on side. Even I wouldn’t believe me and I pretty much believe anyone, except Kit or Angel but I just might believe Kit now. “He took you to his mother’s hut by the sea?” She nods and I notice the sweetest smile flash across her face before the scowl returns and her fingers nimbly pick up the agitated moves on my sheet.

  “What of it?” She is chewing her lip and I am struggling whether I should tell her what Ethan told me. I don’t have anything to gain by telling her how important she obviously is to him but I have a lot to lose if she thinks I’m trying to play her.

  “You are not going to believe me if I tell you, mostly because you don’t trust anyone but also because you’d be an idiot to believe me in your position and you are not an idiot, never have been.” I quip and hesitate even though she is smiling.

  “Spit it out Bets.” She narrows her eyes but her features are anything but harsh.

  “Look I don’t have to tell you this but I’m so sick of games. Ethan likes you.” She tilts her head and sniffs like I haven’t just told her something she already knew. “No Kit, he really likes you. He blew me off as stand in as my chaperone for the wedding because he met some really cool girl and it would feel weird to even pretend to be my date. He said and I quote ‘she’s all kinds of fucked up but there’s something about her, something special.’ He really likes you and he took you to his mum’s place, he never takes girls there. Never.” I sit back and gauge her reaction and just when I think she is going to be typical Kit and rant or dismiss all my lies she quietly asks.

  “Why would you tell me this Boo? I don’t understand.” She uses my oldest nickname and this time I don’t mind. She shakes her head and for the first time ever she looks vulnerable. I want to put my arm around her and that’s a thought I never thought I would have. I don’t because at the moment she’s like a dear in the open, completely out of her comfort zone and liable to bolt. “I really like him.” Her honesty seems to surprise her and she looks a little uneasy that this foreign expression has come from her.

  “I didn’t have to tell you and like I said you don’t have to believe me but you shouldn’t let what’s happening here stop what you could have with Ethan.” I shrug my shoulders because I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know if she believed me or if it will make a difference. “He was really kind to me and I know I don’t really know him that well but he is genuine, smart, funny, smoking hot if you’re into reformed playboys.” She snickers and I am glad I am not revealing anything that Ethan hadn’t obviously already disclosed. “He’s one of the good guys Kit. Maybe it’s time you let yourself have a good guy for once, maybe it’s time you believe you deserve a good guy.” I can see she is nervously nibbling her lower lip and her expression is a mix of confusion and sadness.

  “I can’t stop this Bets. You know I can’t and even if I could how could you ever . . .” She looks over to the door, her eyes wide and she swallows hard like she is trying to take back what she just said. I hope she doesn’t, I hope she says more.

  “I know you can’t Kit, really I get that. You couldn’t trust me any more than I could trust Angel but you’re wrong if you think I couldn’t forgive you. Because if you saved my life, saved my baby’s life, how could I not forgive you?” I take a breath to stop the surge of emotion and blink back the water that pools instantly in my eyes and I can see it’s too much. Kit stands abruptly, walks swiftly and without a backwards glance, opens the door and walks away. Leaving the tray behind, leaving me sore and exposed and praying I haven’t pushed too hard.

  I don’t know whether it is deliberate but Kit only comes in to my room accompanied either with Clive or with Angel. She hasn’t spoken directly to me, actually she hasn’t spoken at all and she hasn’t let me use her iPod either. I spend the next few days alternately cursing myself for pushing too hard, too fast and cursing Angel for the fucking relentless music. The next morning Kit comes in alone but her brusque manor means I am not inclined to try and bond again. She places the breakfast tray down and on it is a large brown envelope. As I pick at my food Kit opens the envelope and places it on the bed with a pen. I glance over the legal document with Last Will and Testament scribed in an elegant font on the cover page . . . my heart sinks. Why on earth would I think she would help me, it’s always about the money with her, life is irrelevant, well, my life is irrelevant.
I pick up the pen and don’t make eye contact as I sign where the brightly coloured markers indicate. I place the pen down and continue eating the tasteless food. She hovers by the door, I am not sure what she is waiting for now but I just have to keep trying to chip away at her.

  “I don’t understand Kit, you don’t need this money . . . Ethan loves you . . . he would take care of you . . . you would have money . . . and I would give you every penny . . . I promise—” She laughs but it sounds flat.

  “Bethany you know I have never relied on anyone but me . . . I am not going to start now, even if you are right . . . Besides it is out of my hands.” Her face holds all the resignation I feel and the ensuing silence cloaks the room.

  She hesitates before walking over to pick up the papers but then shaking her head she stuffs the documents back in the envelope and seeing I have finished she places it on the tray and picks it up to leave. She stands in the doorway looking directly at me, her eyes look sad but I swallow back the laugh just itching to escape, why the fuck would she be sad.

  “I called the ambulance.” Her voice is soft but her words are shocking.

  “What? What ambulance? An ambulance is coming?” My confused garbled words are rushed but I stop when she shakes her head.

  “No no . . . not now.” She draws in a breath and pulls her shoulders back like she is bracing herself to deliver a blow. She is. “I called the ambulance that night John died, I did it straight away. I hated you both but I never wanted him to die. It was a stupid fight that got out of hand you know . . .” She mumbles her excuses. “No one knew I’d made the call but I did it as soon as I could. I didn’t know you were coming but but . . . I am sorry they didn’t get there in time.” I can hear her voice hitch but my ears are fuzzy with overloaded information. “I’m sorry Bets . . . I’m . . .” She snaps her mouth shut when her eyes meet mine, all I see is a fuzzy haze of an image of someone I don’t know at all but who might have tried to save the boy I loved. What the fuck, why tell now?