The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3)

by Palmer, Dee

  “I don’t understand, why tell me now? Like I’m not fucked up enough?” I stand and walk as far as I can to get to her, she stands her ground, her eyes fixed on mine. She looks over her shoulder and then closes the door, stepping closer to me.

  “I’m sorry, that’s not why I told you.” She sucks in a deep breath and I brace myself again, just how much more am I supposed to take. “I . .I. . Look I just needed you to know that. I didn’t want him to die Bets, it was an accident. He just had to protect your precious reputation, he couldn’t just walk away but but he didn’t deserve to die.”

  “No he didn’t.” I whisper.

  “You were with him?” My head lifts to meet her curious eyes and I can barely nod and I can feel the plump tears burst on to my cheek. Her eyes look just a little glassy too. “He loved you so much. I think he did from that first day at school. He took you from me then, you never needed me after that and I was jealous. I hated him and I hated you. I hated that you had each other and I had no one.”

  I can feel my legs start to tremble and I am having trouble containing the gut wrenching sobs needing to be heard. I swallow the largest lump in my throat; my face is streaming but I can’t find any words.

  “I’m sorry Bets.” She drops her head and her words have such finality that I force myself to beg once more, but not for me.

  “Kit please, thank you, you didn’t have to tell me that and I’m sorry I never knew but mostly I’m sorry I never knew you. I was five when I met John and I still needed you but you weren’t there, you were never there.” I shake my head because none of that matters and I think she can see that too. “I know it’s too late and you can’t change what’s going to happen and I might just be a huge dumbass to believe you would if you could.” I shake away the building sorrow because I may be the world’s biggest fool but I think she would help me if she could. “But I am going to ask, I have to beg you for something and I need you to promise me. My baby . . .” I suck in a sharp breath because this hurts more than my limited vocabulary could possibly describe. “My baby doesn’t deserve her. Please find a way, after I mean, to let Daniel know. DNA, whatever, it doesn’t matter, if he knows the truth then the baby will be safe and I know he’ll be a wonderful loving father.” I swallow through the intensity of this conversation. “Even at your most cruel you wouldn’t knowingly put an innocent child in the hands of that crazy bitch.” I let out a tight laugh and smile when Kit’s eyes smile back at me. She doesn’t say a word only the slightest nod of her head and I don’t know if she has agreed to my last request but I can hope, it’s all I have left.

  I FEEL DISGUSTING, the lukewarm water does nothing to remove the grime I feel layering on my skin after weeks of being held prisoner and with no shampoo my hair feels no different once its dry so I have stopped wetting it in the first place. What I wouldn’t give for a steaming hot shower, no no a deep bubble filled bath. Yes, lying in a luxurious bath wrapped in soft fragrant bubbles and encased in strong firm arms with dextrous fingers massaging the knots and tightness from my aching muscles. Daniel’s talented fingers. Mmm I wouldn’t care that the massage would end too quickly because I would love the fact that he can’t wait a moment longer and judging by the deep sigh that escapes my mouth I can’t either. His hands would drift down from my shoulders slipping swiftly over my silky soapy skin, delicate featherlike touches until he moves up to cup and squeeze my breasts. A little too firm and just enough to make me arch away from his chest, pushing my head harder into his neck and moaning as my nipples pebble hard and he rubs them between his thumb and forefinger until I cry out and beg for more. He loves it when I beg. The burning ache I feel deep inside starts to build and I try to twist so I can face him, I need to see his face. I need to see how much he wants me because I can’t hide how much I want him. One of my arms is trapped by his and I can’t move, the thumping of my heart is racing like my ragged breaths, louder, louder, thump, thump. Dammit, the first decent dream I have had in this hellhole and my fucking breakfast arrives to ruin it.

  Kit enters the room and I can’t help but scowl at her even though I haven’t seen her for a few days and actually I am really pleased she’s here. I really missed her. It is too easy to miss a lot of things and because I have nothing but time I now have a depressingly long list;— the sky, the rain, the noise, the smells, the sounds, simple things like salt in my food and fizzy drinks, a decent cup of coffee, hell a crappy cup of coffee for that matter but the list, as endless as it is, leaves me devastated when all my items are surpassed by how much I miss Daniel. Up until that morning I hadn’t been able to touch him in my dreams. Kit looks a little shocked and quickly places the tray which today is covered by an opaque plastic dome. “Are you all right?” She places her hand on my forehead and I can feel a fresh blush flash across my cheeks, which adds to the flush from my dream. I nod and after she is happy that I am fine and the baby is fine she tips her head excitedly toward the tray. She clasps her hands and is biting back a tell-tale grin. I am a little curious now, this is very strange behaviour for her, unprecedented. She doesn’t do giddy with excitement. I am touched she has started to ask about the baby but I can’t help fear every small change is leading to a fatal case of false hope. I tentatively lift the lid, my mouth drops, my eyes widen and instantly pool with water but not as much as my mouth does at the sight of pure heaven laid on the plate before me.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” I cry out and bounce on the spot with unbelievable joy. “Kit is that? . . .” I pick up one quarter of the white bread sandwich; it crumples and crackles in my fingers.

  “Yep.” Her smile is brilliantly wide and genuine and if my arm was free I would hug her but I can’t actually take my eyes of this sandwich. Who would have thought I could be rendered speechless by such a simple food but it’s not an ordinary sandwich. It’s my long forgotten favourite, clearly one of the memories that we shared which didn’t have negative connotations for either of us. Because she giggles too as I moan into my first bite of the gourmet breakfast of cream cheese, cheese and onion crisps and butter sandwich with a glass of full fat milk. I’m in heaven and I don’t say a word until there is nothing left.

  “Thank you.” I lick my lips even though there is no longer a trace of flavour left as I have inhaled every bit. She reaches behind her and holds her hand out shyly. The dainty iced cupcake has a single candle and I suddenly understand the significance. Have I really been here over a month because that would definitely suck. It would also mean that today is my birthday. I take the cake because it is a sweet gesture and as crappy as this is for a twenty-first birthday Kit has risked herself by doing this and Kit never risks herself. The cake looks delicious and I realise I haven’t had anything remotely processed for so long I could eat the paper the cake is wrapped in just so as not to waste a morsel. I peel back the paper and take a big sniff, the utter sugar rush from the smell alone makes me smile. I tear it in half but she shakes her head.

  “Please Kit, Birthday cake is for sharing . . . pretty sure its bad luck to eat it all myself.” She tilts away with a raised brow and pursed lips at my attempt at a bad joke but she smiles and takes the piece I’m offering. I savour the way the moist cake and sickly icing coat my teeth in gooey clumps and close my eyes as my tongue delights in this new burst of artificial flavour. Forget about the tasty dream I was having because this is culinary eroticism and the fact that I am comparing cake to an orgasm with Daniel just shows how far I’ve fallen. How deprived and depraved I have become. I pick the few crumbs from my T-shirt and suck them off my fingers. “Thank you Kit. Best Birthday ever!” I sit back and laugh.

  “Well now I just feel shitty because that is sooo pathetic if this is the best.” She shuffles to sit beside me and I jump a little at her unusual closeness but quickly relax because it feels nice and feelings like this are rare. I would be stupid not to take it where I can get it.

  “OK not my best but it’s definitely up there.” We are silent for several minutes when she sits straight and
I wonder if the intimacy is too much and she will bolt again.

  “What was the best?” She looks at me and her big brown eyes are softly smiling, her face is softer too and she looks more comfortable, more relaxed and the fact that she is asking about me, wanting to learn things about me I can’t help but think this has to be good.

  “My sixteenth birthday.” I say without hesitation and she jabs me in my ribs.

  “Ew I do not want to know about you and John making the beast with two backs on the day you became legal.” She chuckles but I can only reflect how I wish that was the case. I drop my head and rub my finger where the ring I lent to Sofia as her ‘something blue’ has been for the last five years.

  “No we didn’t.” I suck in a stuttered breath and I can’t believe this still hurts so much. “I mean I wanted to but he wanted to wait . . . didn’t want it to be because of a date where someone else had deemed it Ok and legal. He didn’t want it to be anything other than for us. Special and and . . .” My throat is dry but I carry on. “He worked, like me and had commitments but was trying to save, he wanted to take me out, you know nice meal, fancy restaurant that type of thing. No matter how much I begged he wouldn’t budge until he had the money to’ treat me right.’ It’s pretty much why I don’t give a crap about money. I mean I needed it for Mum but now, I don’t need so much. You can have it, really. I know you think I take it for granted now but it’s just not important because it meant I never got the chance to . . . I just loved him so much and I . . .” I feel the few tears trickle down my cheek but I wipe them away. I cried enough back then and I remind myself that the day itself was amazing. “Anyway, it was the summer holidays and John had left me clues to find each silly gift he had hidden around the village. I was mad at first because I just wanted to be with him but each gift was special, my favourite sweet, a CD of my favourite band, my leather belt which was his and I constantly stole, silly things I don’t remember them all now but all the clues lead me to our gravestone. I know that sounds weird but it was kind of our thing. We loved to read the headstones, all the people that went before, reading them aloud, remembered and some of the inscriptions were beautiful. Anyway this particular one was so lovely. Just a simple dedication from a husband to his wife.

  Jake and Mable,

  A thousand choices in one lifetime,

  When there was really only one:

  Us,

  Always.

  He was sitting there with a small blue velvet box. I already knew we weren’t going to have sex and I already knew he was going to marry me. He told me that when I was eleven years old.” I add because she looks shocked at my presumption. “The box held a promise ring and I knew his promise would never be broken . . . that he would love me and care for me and be my everything.” I can feel my tears but I don’t feel so sad and I am smiling remembering that wonderful day, because it was the very best birthday. I know she feels uncomfortable so I make a joke about crazy emotional hormones and she laughs easing the sombre mood. I lean forward and try to stretch my back out; sitting bunched up hurts my back and squishes my bump.

  “Can you feel it move?” She is actually pointing to my heart but I know that’s not what she means.

  I shake my head and she looks disappointed. “No, not yet, it’s a little early. I think it’s supposed to be around fifteen weeks. You can’t even really see the bump with my clothes on.” We both fall silent and my mind races with a million requests. The most prevalent is the one I think she has promised already and I don’t want to give her the opportunity to retract it but there is one thing that is praying on my mind and scaring me shitless. “You will be here, for the birth, I mean?” I can see her eyes widen but she can also hear the fear and panic in my voice at the thought of being alone or worse. She shifts off the bed and takes the tray; she turns and holds my heavy gaze full of desperate need and smiles at me. “It is just that if Angel can’t stand the sight of blood . . . I mean you didn’t see her when I bit my lip . . . if she reacts like that to a drop she is not going to be able to help me . . . besides I don’t really want her here at all if that is an option but I don’t want to be alone either.” My voice trembles.

  “I’ll be here.” Her soft words are like a warm blanket and I can’t believe the comfort they afford. “See you later.”

  SHE DIDN’T COME back at lunch time and she didn’t appear at dinner. It wasn’t like she had promised to return today and it’s not like either of them keep to any particular routine but I just feel really sick that something is wrong. I chase my dry grilled chicken around my plate as Angel sits at the edge of my bed picking imaginary lint from her tailored trousers.

  “Um Angel, Kit said she was going to be there for the birth and . . .” Before I can ask her intention regarding the event she snickers and quickly places her polished nails against her lips but her eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments. Unfortunately that moment is all I need, an instant ice chills my soul. “Angel. .whats funny?”

  “What is funny . . . is that you think you are so clever. It is quite pathetic your attempt to manipulate Kit, quite pathetic.” She raises her hand to stop my attempt to deny her suspicions. “Don’t insult me Bethany . . . you have done enough . . . and so have I.” Her cold eyes look less than human and I feel my world drop away and any hope I had fostered that my baby would, at least be safe, die with that one look. I get the feeling Kit isn’t coming back and I am terrified to process what that means for Kit but I know what it means for me. It means my time is up and I have to do something drastic. I have to get out of here.

  I can’t let her see that I know something bad has happened. I can’t let her see how scared I am and I can’t let her see that I am just about desperate enough to try anything. I shake my head to change the subject because I think my best play is ignorance. “Never mind, actually I did want to ask for something.”

  She sniffs and looks at me down her nose. “Really? Quite the demanding little bitch aren’t we?”

  I grit my teeth to stop my agreement, that she is, in fact ,quite a demanding bitch. “I have this killer craving for some Tahini.” She frowns at my request and I wonder if Kit told her of my allergy. “It’s really quite healthy, with carrot sticks.”

  “That sesame seed hummus? You’re craving that?” She laughs and wrinkles her nose. “I’ll see what I can do.” She moves to take my tray but leans in to whisper, her eyes narrowed with malice and utter hatred. I wonder if they match my own. “But you will owe me.” Her thin lipped smile doesn’t touch her eyes as she backs out of the room. I gasp for air holding the sudden pain in my chest too terrified to cry anymore I just need to get out of here, even if it kills me.

  After the light is switched off I run through my very limited options. If I eat the hummus with the sesame seeds I will have a reaction, not sure how strong and not sure Angel would even bat an eyelid as I struggle for breath. No, it needs to be more. I need to bleed, the baby needs to be in jeopardy, but not actually in jeopardy. Fuck! How do I make myself bleed enough to make her take me to hospital and that’s assuming she cares enough to want to save the baby. This whole room has nothing harsher than my language to cut myself with and even the cutlery an infant would struggle to injure themselves. I nibble on my thumb nail as my mind works through a number of scenarios until I think I am happy with my plan. It’s not a great plan and I could very well slip into a coma before she decides to help, if she decides to help but it’s all I have now that Kit is gone, is probably gone. My body makes an involuntary shudder because in my heart I can just feel the truth, Kit is definitely gone.

  Of course I may not have to pretend to bleed if she keeps coming in here in the middle of the night and hitting my head with the heel of the gun. Slam! Her fist connects hard with my cheek bone and slam again with the back of her hand. I try not to cry out but, fuck it hurts. She holds my face flat against the pillow with the gun in her hand and drags her nails down my inflamed cheek. Not enough to draw blood but enough to score the skin and make my
eyes water. She leans in, her venomous words spit into my face. “Why the fuck does he keep coming here Bethany? What is he looking for? Is it you? Does he think he’ll find you? Because he won’t, I have you too well hidden in here.” She pinches my face and holds it between her bony fingers with one hand and holds the gun to my temple with the other. My shallow panting breath can barely escape because of her weight on my chest. “He would never be happy with you. I saved you that. You should thank me. How could he ever be happy knowing he killed his own child? What kind of man could live with himself? Only I can make it bearable for him, because only I can forgive him. He needs my forgiveness to be happy, understand?” She smiles at this, because in her crazy mind I guess that makes sense but it just makes me fucking mad.

  “He’d forgive himself pretty fucking quick if you told him the truth.” I hold my breath expecting the full force of her rage but her eerie laugh is so much worse. She is silent for endless sadistic seconds.

  “Did you honestly think your sister was going to help you? Did you honestly think I would let her?” She looks me dead in the eyes and I can’t breathe as her next words destroy me. “Did you think I wasn’t listening?” She throws her head back and laughs. “You might’ve thought you had a future. You might have thought you had a future with Daniel. It is laughable, really it is. You just don’t get it do you? Only I hold his past, me, he has no future, will never have a future without me.” She pats my cheek and strokes my hair like you would a wounded animal and perhaps that’s what I am to her, a pathetic, helpless wounded animal. She leaves just as silently as she came and I curl on my side, knowing she can hear I refuse to cry out but the silent tears fall, unstoppable and I let them. I cry for Kit, I cry for Daniel, and I cry for me and my baby but the tears will stop eventually because what I need is a much more potent mix of emotions. I need my anger and rage. I need to encourage and embrace the hatred that swills deep inside, fury like a fire needed to purge that vile excuse for a human. Now I am focused, now I have a plan and now I can’t wait for tomorrow to come because tomorrow this ends.