After Our Kiss

by Nora Flite

He'd told the police that he'd tried to save Georgia from a man with dark hair in a brown jacket and jeans. According to him, I'd overwhelmed him after a fight, and a lucky punch had knocked him out. He claimed to be very concerned about Georgia.

  “Fun, right?” Lonnie said crisply.

  I handed the phone back, sitting down across from him. “It's not like they can find us here.”

  “No, probably not.”

  My eyebrows scrunched together. “Then what are you worried about?”

  “Me?” He touched his chest, blinking. “I'm not worried about anything. I'm just pointing out that you can't walk away from this unscathed.”

  My shoulders bunched up, my jaw tensing. “I never thought I could.”

  He watched me for a long, silent minute. “Okay then. This was your daily reality check, go back to having cake with your rent-a-girl.”

  Shoving myself upwards, I knocked my chair to the floor loudly. I was furious—but not at Lonnie. He was right; there was no walking away from this. Had I honestly thought there was?

  If I save Emily, it doesn't matter.

  That belief lacked strength. It was smothered by a new voice that cried out to protect Georgia. But I could only keep them alive if I stayed on this path. There was no way out.

  Was there?

  Rounding the corner, I ran into her. She backed up before we collided. “What are you doing out here?” I asked.

  “You just said to go. You didn't say where.”

  “I meant your room and you know that.”

  Her hip kicked to one side, emphasizing the drastic dip of her middle. My hands buzzed at the thought of fitting there so perfectly. “That's not fair, you're assuming I know what you want without you saying it clearly.”

  The pulsing in my body stalled. “Don't you?” I wondered out loud. Georgia's face tilted down, her eyes hidden in the dim hallway. This whole house was crawling with shadows. Even when we were forced together, they still let us hide what we really desired.

  She started to walk away. I closed my hand on her shoulder. “Wait,” I said. “You're right. I don't want you to go to your room.” My fingers tightened on her soft skin. “Let's go to mine.”

  ****

  I'd been staying upstairs. I had a view of the ocean through the gaps in the wooden boards on my window. Lonnie was on the same floor, but down the opposite hall. We didn't have to sleep near each other in this huge house and we took advantage of that.

  Georgia stared around as we entered. “Nice,” she said. It wasn't—it was a single bed with thick blankets, a chair with my jacket draped on it. One wall had a dusty dresser that was barren. It was the opposite of fucking nice.

  Yet... with her in here with me, it wasn't so bad.

  She must have felt my stare, because she spun around, squinting. “You get blankets, but not me.”

  “I told you why.”

  “How do I make you understand I won't do anything to hurt myself?”

  Sighing, I sat on the bed. “Alright. I'll get you a blanket.”

  “I could also sleep here.”

  My eyes flashed at her. The idea of sleeping with her curled against me, my hands able to touch her whenever I ached to, was tempting. Stop getting close to her. You can't keep her. “No,” I said, channeling what ice was left in my blood.

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because you're my prisoner.”

  She backed up from the force of my claim. “I thought—”

  “You think you're free,” I growled, standing again. Gripping her by her hair, I pushed her roughly onto the blankets. The pent up frustration at being between a rock and a hard place had gotten to me. “You think I want you.”

  Amazingly, when she knelt and faced me, she lacked any hint of terror. I knew I was frightening. I didn't know where her strength came from. “What do you want, then, if it's not me? What would truly make you happy?”

  Grasping the front of my shirt, I traced the obvious scar beneath. I palmed the old injuries on my arms, the ink I'd covered myself with because choosing to experience pain instead of having it forced on me was intoxicating. Surreal.

  I touched myself to see if I really existed. The lack of hate in her eyes made me think I had to be invisible. How else could Georgia not wish death on me with every glance? “What would make me happy,” I said, choking up, “Is if I could erase my existence. It's the only way to make sure this moment never happens to you.”

  Her pretty mouth made an ugly shape. “What?”

  “Have you looked around?” I asked. “You're my slave, Georgia. And soon you'll be my father's.” I quivered, and as if picturing her out of my life, I gripped her forearms and dug in until she winced. But she didn't buckle. “My life equals your suffering.”

  “Being with you isn't suffering!” she cried.

  “No? You mean you like this?” I loomed over her, watching how she did her best not to crumble under my ferocity. “You wouldn't change things if you could?”

  “I—I would. Of course I would.” She gathered herself. “I'd go back and make sure you ran away with me.”

  I locked up at her words. “What?”

  “That day, when you told me to never look back, I listened. Did you know that's my biggest regret?”

  I released her as if she burned. “You don't know what you're saying.”

  Her defiance nested in her stare. She bent away from me, folding in half, scooping her hair off her neck as she did it. That stunningly beautiful tattoo of an open eye was exposed. The blue iris pierced my soul.

  The day I'd first seen it, I'd been pressing Georgia onto the bed. Fighting with her had excited the most primal part of me. And with her face in the mattress, I could avoid her judgment. Then I'd pushed her hair aside. That inked eye was her eye. It had stripped away my courage and replaced it with loathing.

  “I do know what I'm saying. I knew it when I had this needled into my skin the day after my mother died. Death makes you look back at your actions, realize what you'd change if you could. This is here to remind me of that.”

  I digested everything she'd told me. “Your mother is dead?”

  “Cancer gets all the wrong people,” she said, not yet facing me. “We moved next to one of the best hospitals in the country. Best treatments, best doctors, best everything. It didn't matter.”

  She'd always spoken about her mother so fondly. Everything had been a constant worry, afraid to leave her alone... to let her suffer. And she was dead? The unfairness blackened my mood further.

  Her head turned. I could see part of her wistful smile. “I told you before that I never knew my dad. But I did know his money. He left so much for her. For us. Treatment wasn't a burden.” Her laugh sounded like a stone was rolling across her sternum. “All that cash didn't matter. You can't buy immortality.”

  Watching her, I was reminded of the women from classic paintings who always wore such placid expressions. She was crafted from quiet knowledge, her soul untouchable. “You've suffered through so much,” I said, reaching for her—then stopping. “How do you do it?”

  Georgia rounded on me, her hair slipping over her back again. “What?”

  “Keep fighting. Keep your head up high. How do you find the will to keep going and be so strong?” It was a plea that turned my voice ragged. She'd spoken about immortality—but to me, living forever was the worst curse imaginable.

  Her hands came down on my shoulders. I could have thrown her off with ease, but her gentle weight was comforting. The mystery in her face was gone. She'd become the girl I'd known nine years ago - the young woman who'd been brave enough to tell me to kiss her.

  She said, “You've been carrying around Anna for years. That death is a burden that's made you hate yourself and think you should be erased. But for me... when Mom passed... I realized how much it meant for me to live. That's what makes me strong, my love for her. My love for you.”

  I pressed her against my chest and hid my face in her thick hair. Was my body built the same as e
veryone else? Could I handle this explosion of compassion that shoved at the back of my eyes like a tsunami?

  “I love you so much,” I whispered against her scalp. “And I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry.” They were just words but maybe, if I was this close, they'd sink in and mean more.

  She didn't ask me what I was apologizing for.

  Whether Georgia held me, or I held her, it wasn't clear. As a bundle of regret and soothing whispers, we sat on my bed and listened to the rain outside. It attacked the boarded windows. It wanted to come inside and flay us to pieces. Mother Nature was as likely to help as rip you to shreds. I didn't need the weather for that—I was amazing at cutting myself open on my own. I was doing it now as I combed my mind for solutions.

  Just keeping Georgia alive wasn't enough anymore. Her beautiful heart deserved freedom. She deserved the whole fucking world. If I can find out where Emily is, my father will have nothing over me. I could free Georgia and my sister both.

  The plan that was forming inside of me was knitting my soul back together. “I have an idea,” I said.

  Pulling back, she stared at me. “For...?”

  “Keeping you from my father. But it's risky, Georgia. There's a chance it could go wrong.”

  With kind hands, she traced the curve of my ear. “A boy once told me the same line before he rescued me. I trusted him then. I trust him now.”

  I wove our fingers together until our knuckles clicked into each other's gaps. The purple ribbon on her wrist rustled over my skin. “I'm going to kill my father.”

  - Chapter Twenty-One -

  Georgia Mary King

  I listened to his plan with budding excitement.

  There was no part of me that wanted anyone dead, but if there was a future in which we could save Conway's sister and keep me out of Facile's hands, I was eager for it.

  We lay there, just talking, long into the night. We weren't even naked and yet it was beyond intimate. He made it easy to feel comfortable. Safe.

  Clearing my throat, I rolled on my side. “I'm going to grab a glass of water.”

  He grunted, eyes shut.

  Chuckling, I ran my hand over his broad back. He was gorgeous lying there—a dragon that rested. My dragon.

  On bare feet I padded across the hall. It was dark, and I wasn't used to this part of the house. Two turns in, and I lost my sense of direction. “Dammit,” I mumbled. Clouds hid the stars outside the boarded up windows.

  Then I was deeper, and knew I was really lost.

  My foot came down, the wood creaking. It was such a sharp noise that my heart skipped. Calm down, don't spook yourself. I got two more steps when a new sound hit my ears.

  It was low, full of pain and dread. It floated between the studs in the wall. I pressed my ear there, focusing so hard that my vision went wobbly. It was just like the sounds I'd heard while being assaulted by the videos’ audio day in and day out. I'd thought I was losing my mind.

  Had those moans been real?

  Standing, I searched the room. There wasn't any obvious door that I could see. A set of curtains draped across what looked like a boarded up window. Except this part of the house wasn't attached to the outer walls. There wouldn't be any windows.

  Pushing the cloth aside, I saw that the boards were nailed on top of a door. It swung open when I nudged it; I heard the frail cry again. Sensing the urgency in their tone, I walked through, then half-crept, half-jogged down the passage. Where did this go? I didn't know what part of the house this even was—I strained to see.

  “Hello?” I whispered, my neck hairs standing on end.

  There was another door, and though it had a lock, it was partially open. Light shone through and spread over the floorboards and more of that faded bird wallpaper. I was shaking as I swung it the rest of the way.

  Inside that room was a true nightmare.

  Six beds were lined up, three to a wall, in a space barely bigger than my own. The walls were covered in padding—hastily stuck there by duct tape and nails. It was an amateur job, but it had done its purpose. It kept the noise muffled so it could hardly escape. And when I saw what was in the beds, my horror only grew.

  Six women. Black straps held their limbs to the bed frames, blindfolds covering half of their face. They'd all been gagged, robbed of their senses... except for one. Furthest from the door, she'd managed to maneuver her gag out of her mouth a fraction. Just enough to call for help.

  “Save me,” she groaned.

  “Oh my god,” I cried, rushing to her side. “Are you okay? Who did this to you?” Unsure where to begin, or what to do, I started to yank at her straps. This scene was blowing my mind.

  “This is a problem,” someone said behind me.

  Needle-sharp terror rolled up my body. I began to turn; pain burst outward from the base of my skull.

  Everything went black.

  - Chapter Twenty-Two -

  Georgia Mary King

  I was cold. Why was I so cold?

  The world swayed, and each time, it took my brain with it.

  Pain cranked and flowed. The pendulum didn't stop; not until something connected violently with my cheek. Groaning, I looked around, my eyes struggling to focus.

  “There she is,” Lonnie said, his voice barely louder than the ringing in my head. He stared at me, snapping his fingers. “Hey, hi. You all there? You with me? Come on, I didn't hit you that hard.”

  Acid floored through my veins. Lonnie had attacked me from behind. Where am I? Is this the same room? I lifted my head, searching rapidly. It was nearly pitch black—without Lonnie's phone glowing, it would've been. Behind him, just a few feet away, was a girl I'd never seen in person but automatically recognized. She was sitting in a chair in the corner. Her head hung low—I worried she was dead.

  “Emily.” The name fell from my lips. Lonnie's face went slack. “Emily! Are you okay?”

  “Conway is such a fucking idiot,” he sighed.

  Struggling to stand, I noticed my hands were tied crudely behind me. My legs were bound to mid calf—I was sitting on the ground, propped against a rough stone-wall. I moved, and water splashed. It covered me up to my waist. “What's going on?” I asked, finally eyeing Lonnie.

  “What's going on is my asshole brother didn't play by the rules.” He braced himself, straightening up to look at Emily. “Maybe I should have seen this coming. I thought for sure he'd hate himself too much to tell you about her, oh well. Doesn't matter now.”

  There was finality in his words. I was busy focusing on all the loose ends and tying them together. “Those girls in the beds... that was you,” I said.

  He crossed his arms, studying me. “I admit to being surprised to find you in there with them. I'd gone back to turn the light off, how silly of me to get halfway to my room before I remembered.”

  Lonnie watched me eagerly, and I knew he was waiting for me to keep going. “Did you kidnap your own sister, too?”

  “Bingo. Aren't you clever!” He reached down to pinch my cheek. I tried to bite him, and he just dodged with a laugh. “She was great leverage.”

  My head was cracking in two. “You're the one working for your dad while he's locked up.” It was so fucking obvious now. “Did you think if you did this, he'd treat you better?” I asked. “Or was Conway right, you just get a kick out of fucking with him?”

  “Oh,” he said. He looked genuinely surprised. “You haven't guessed by now? My dad had nothing to do with this. He couldn't have if he'd wanted to.”

  Fear had kept me warm, but now, nothing sheltered me from the icy grip of shock. “Why not?”

  “Because he's dead.”

  Dead.

  “Everyone was so scared of Dad. Mom, Conway, my sister, and you,” he went on, walking through the water. The light went with him, tracking on the walls as he made a small circle. “It's funny. He did his best work ever while being a corpse.”

  Something glinted in his fingers. Something purple.

  Thrashing in the water, I worked to g
et closer to him. He had the ribbon from Conway's gift. “That's mine!”

  “What, this dumb thing?” Tucking it in his back pocket, he walked away. “You and my brother are way too sentimental. That's why you failed. Bye, now.”

  Without his phone I couldn't see. In the distance I heard the rusty crunch of something shutting. I was blind and I had no idea where I was.

  “Emily,” I hissed, shuffling agonizingly slow in her direction. Moving was nearly impossible. “Emily! Please, talk to me! My name is Georgia; I'm friends with your brother. He's been looking for you.” Please, be okay.

  Water splashed in the dark. “Georgia,” she whispered. “Really?”

  Rejuvenated by her voice, I inched closer. “Thank god, you're alive.”

  “Alive... is a big word.” That same dark humor as Conway had. “I never thought I'd meet you. But I always wanted to.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “In a way. We were pen pals,” she chuckled. “Of a sort.”

  I sat back on my calves heavily. “You wrote me those letters?”

  “Feels like forever ago. You stopped replying, did you get sick of me?”

  “I had to move,” I said. “My mother needed to be closer to a better hospital. For her treatment.”

  She sensed the sadness in my tone. “I'm sorry.”

  “Forget about that. We've got out own problems. Do you know where we are?”

  “The cellar beneath the house.”

  To think, she'd been so close all along. “How high will this water rise?” I asked anxiously.

  “Lonnie told me that it gets as high as the stairs this time of year.”

  We'll drown for sure. “How does he know that? Conway said he'd been staying here since springtime.”

  “I don't know. It's just what Lonnie said to me. He liked to tell me all sorts of awful things,” she said somberly. “Ways he'd hurt me, way's he'd torture Conway. He could be lying about the water.”

  “Let's not stick around to find out.” Filling my lungs, I screamed as loud as I could. I did it until my throat was scratchy and raw.

  “No one will hear you,” Emily said. “I lost my voice twice.”