“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I just need some rest.” And some major painkillers. And some happy pills, for that matter. Through the walls, I hear the gush of the shower water hitting the tile floor.
Timber’s eyebrows remain wrinkled with worry. She can sense that something’s wrong, but she knows that now is the wrong time to talk about it.
“Auntie Pollen, can you read me a story?” Evie asks with doe eyes. She’s already dressed in her pink butterfly pajamas, ready for bed.
It breaks my heart to refuse, but I can’t handle it right now. “Not tonight, sweetie. I’m really tired,” I confess.
“I’ll read to you,” Timber jumps in, “right after we pick up our puzzle.” She gives me a wink and squats down to help Evie put the pieces in the box.
Marcus reappears, followed by a white cloud of steam. “Shower’s ready,” he says. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.” I still can’t bear to look into his eyes. It’s just a painful reminder of the unadulterated love he has for me, the fact that I just wasted it for a few pleasurable minutes with my ex.
The water burns and stings my back and the steam causes my headache to inflate. I turn the knob to the blue side, forcing myself to endure the icy chill. I don’t deserve comfort. Not now. Somehow I hope that the torture of the cold shower will help to ease my burden, but it doesn’t. All it does is wash away the salty tears that just won’t end.
I scrub myself with the shower sponge. I scrub hard, as if the scrubbing will wash away the damage that I caused, the knowledge of what I’ve done, the hurt that may one day be revealed. But I can’t scrub it away. It’s as permanent as the infinity fly on my temple. I’ll have to live with it forever. Unless…
No, I can’t. But maybe I can. The memory erasers in my tattoo are still active. If I can come into contact with the right amount of electromagnetic activity, I might be able to erase that moment. Just maybe . . .
That hope fizzles out. The moment I see Glenn again it will all come back. Maybe not right away. But under the right conditions it will. Just like it did before. Nothing is permanent.
I slide my back down the wall and come to rest in a fetal position on the shower floor. The spikes of water stabbing me have no effect any more. I just lay here and sob until Marcus knocks on the door.
“Are you okay, Pol?” his voice sounds muffled behind the gushing drone of the shower.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I shout back. It’s impossible to gauge how long I’ve been in here since I’ve only used cold water. I’m sure the hot water would have run out a while ago.
I’m not ready to face him. I’m not sure I ever will be. But the thought causes my stomach to convulse and I scramble over to the toilet on my hands and knees, unable to stifle the contents coming up.
I leave the water running while I stand in front of the mirror staring at the detestable image I see before me. Cupping my hand under the running faucet I rinse my mouth and guzzle down as much water as my spinning stomach can handle.
When I finally gather enough nerve to leave the bathroom I find Marcus already in bed, waiting for me.
“Timber left while you were in the shower,” he says, “and Evie’s asleep.” I nod and climb into bed, still wearing my white robe, and face away from him as if looking at him would allow him to read my thoughts.
“I know you’re upset with me,” says Marcus. “I really am so, so sorry, Pollen. I was beyond selfish. I’ll never let you go again.” He eases closer to me under the covers and wraps his arm over me, spooning me.
“I’m not upset with you,” I say. “I’m just tired.” Marcus kisses the back of my head, turns the lights off and doesn’t let me go for the rest of the night.
* * *
My headache has subsided to a very dull annoyance, but the noise and bright sunlight radiating in from the dome of the rotunda still aggravate me as I walk Evie to preschool in the morning. As we wait for the elevator by the main offices I hear two voices snap back and forth in a whisper. Myra and Marley, two of the head scientists, are in a heated discussion only a few feet away.
“What do you mean missing?” Myra asks.
“Missing, as in gone. Deleted. The data has disappeared. We can’t find it,” Marley replies in a hushed tone. She combs the dark curls out of her olive-toned face in frustration.
I’ve never seen Myra so stressed. She’s always the calm reserved one, even in the face of danger. Yesterday, when the entire facility was in chaos, she held it together like she was going to a baby shower. Now, though, I can see the sweat glistening on her brow, her jaw clenched in anguish, even her posture is stiff and rigid.
“Marley, if they were stolen,” she clasps her mouth shut aware of the everyday activity going on around her. She whispers, “Do you know what that means?” Marley nods nervously.
“And there’s something else,” Marley says. “The interior control panel has been tampered with.”
“How?”
Marley looks around briefly and lowers her voice, “The circuit board has been destroyed and the nuclear capacitor is gone.”
Before I can listen any further, Evie tugs at my arm. The elevator has arrived. After boarding, I turn back to find that Marley and Myra have gone rushing into the engineering deck.
* * *
“So, do you want to talk about it now?” Timber asks as we walk toward Arena Three several paces behind Yoric and Jansen.
It’s been a few days since the incident and I’ve avoided training until today. General Granby granted me a reprieve from training for as long as I need, but I’m eager to get back in the field. Marcus insisted on training with me every day from now on, but I asked him to give me some space. If it were up to him I’d never leave his sight again. It’s just so hard to be around him right now. The guilt eats away at my conscious every second I’m with him.
“There’s nothing to talk about really.” I say. “I was attacked. Glenn was there and saved me. That’s it.” I stare down at my feet while talking to her.
But Timber is too shrewd to buy into my apathetic response. She knows something is up. She also knows that it’s too personal for me to share even with my best girl friend. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the overwhelming concern in her energy. “Okay, there is something.” I admit. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”
Timber smiles and nods as we proceed into the woods. The trees aren’t quite as welcoming anymore. The crunching leaves beneath my feet emit a spooky resonance into the eerily silent atmosphere. The towering trees are tall prison bars waiting to trap me and send me back to Crimson.
We split up; Yoric and Jansen venture ahead while Timber and I stay back and count down until we are ready to pursue. We start off running at an even pace until we can no longer see the grassy field behind us. I slow my pace to a crawl and Timber changes direction to try and circle around the guys. My pistol is cupped in my hands, resting against my cheek, ready to take aim and fire at the slightest movement. Luckily, it’s a calm, quiet day, without so much as a warm draft to disturb the tree limbs.
Each tree I approach becomes a temporary sanctuary to hide behind while I determine my next move. So far, the woods are so quiet I can only hear my own hushed breath. Even Timber has moved out of earshot. After checking for clearance, I carefully creep diagonally to another tree, resting my back against it once I am in its protective veil.
My ears perk up like a tiger on the hunt. I swear I just heard something. Or was the sound coming from me? It was too faint to be sure. I hold my breath, hoping to confirm my suspicions. There it is again. A tiny flutter, so obscure it could be the blinking of Yoric’s eyelids. But I know I heard it. He must be close.
I wind my finger around the trigger of my gun and sprint out from behind the tree, looking left, right, left again. I move forward through the trees, looking all around, but nobody is here. My heart is racing. This situation is all too familiar and with Timber gone I am once again alone and vulnerable.
My brea
thing quickens as panic sets in. There’s a loud thud behind me and before I can spin around Yoric has his arms around me and his gun pressed against the back of my head. My bloodcurdling screams resonate throughout the woods. In a desperate attempt to free myself I thrust my elbow, full strength, back into his chest and he cries out, hunched over. Still in full-blown self-preservation mode, I turn and crash my knee into his face. As he falls to the ground I aim my pistol at his right eye and begin to squeeze.
It’s only when I take in the tragic sight that I realize what I have done and drop my gun. Yoric lies on the ground like a scared little boy, holding his chest while blood dribbles from his nose. He moans and cries out in pain. This was no training exercise. The strange similarity to the attack must have triggered a life-or-death response. PTSD, maybe? Something clicked in me and I truly feared for my life.
By the time Timber and Jansen reach us, I am huddled up against a tree, crying and unable to even look at Yoric, for fear that I will see the eyes of the blue and blood spattered bounty hunter. My entire body is quivering with hysteria. I never realized how traumatic that one event was for me. After all I’ve been through in the past few months, this must have been the final push over the edge.
How selfish I am. Again. Here I am feeling sorry for myself after I just walloped poor Yoric to a pulp. Timber comforts Yoric and speaks softly to him while Jansen approaches me. He speaks, but I cannot make out what he is saying. My mind simply can’t comprehend. It’s like the day I met Marcus and the car exploded in front of me. Everything is a blur and all sounds are muted. Jansen turns to Timber and says something, then helps me up and leads me out of the woods, with his arm around my shoulder, massaging the rock-hard tension that has built up there.
Out in the open field my mind begins to clear. “What have I done?” I say to myself. I’m still not sure if I am referring to my beating of Yoric or the affair with Glenn.
“It’s okay, Pollen,” Jansen says, in his soft soothing tone, which reminds me of a kitten purring. “You’re still under a lot of stress. Do you mind if I asked what happened?”
I explain to him what happened the day of the attack and how Yoric grabbed me from behind, just as my attacker had. “I don’t know what happened after that. I just . . . snapped. Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“You bashed him pretty good,” Jansen laughs. “I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, though. We all talked about this before we went out and agreed we’d take it easy on you. He should have known better.”
“I should have waited,” I say.
“Waited?” Jansen asks.
“To start training again. Or at least stayed at the range where I can’t hurt anybody.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” says Jansen.
After dropping our weapons off at the armory, Jansen walks me back to my apartment, where I remain for the next two days, curled up in my bed.
Chapter 11
Even though a week has come and gone, I haven’t really spoken much to Marcus, despite his constant presence. His concern has turned to frustration, which I’m afraid will turn to suspicion if I do not alter my behavior soon. My distance was comprehensible right after I was attacked. But a week later, it seems odd and vexatious.
Everyone has pretty much kept their distance from me since the attack, except for Lana, who has been paging me incessantly for the past two mornings, wondering why Evie and I are not in class. Marcus has been handling it, telling her that Evie doesn’t feel well and I am staying home to care for her. Obviously she doesn’t buy it and her lack of compassion is evident by her constant prying.
Word about what I did to Yoric traveled around and Granby even paid me a short visit, encouraging me to train in the sparring arena for a while, where exercises are supervised and more controlled. Turns out I broke one of Yoric’s ribs when I jabbed him with my elbow, so he won’t be training for a few weeks. Won’t be getting busy with Timber either. She insists that it’s okay every time I try to apologize, but I’m sure she’s just as upset about his injury as he is.
Much to my relief, Glenn has avoided direct contact with me since the attack, although I swear I can feel him watching me from a distance at times. Whether it’s concern or desire I do not know. I’m just glad he’s giving me space—it helps to fade the memories and emotions of that horrible day, making it easier for me to move on.
I insisted that Marcus continue going to work for the past couple days, but today he refuses. In fact, he even asked Timber to take Evie out for a few hours so that we could spend some time alone. Time that I have been nervously avoiding out of fear that I might let something slip and he’ll find out about my betrayal.
I don’t even want to get out of bed again today. Hiding under the security of my blanket seems to be the only comfort I find lately. Since Marcus can’t coax me out of bed, he resigns to lying next to me, facing my back.
I’m frustrated that he’s impeding my emotional barrier. It makes it that much harder for me to live with myself.
“You know, you’ll have to leave the room at some point,” he says, teasing me.
“I know,” I say quietly. “I just need one more day.” I close my eyes and try to let the whirring of the ceiling fan lull me back to sleep. Even when it fails, I still pretend I’m sleeping.
“Remember the day we met?” Marcus murmurs, breaking the silence.
“Which time?” I ask satirically. Marcus chuckles under closed lips. Not too many couples can say they fell in love twice without even knowing. But after Marcus and I escaped Crimson the first time we lost all memories of each other only to meet again in the woods. There was a vague familiarity when we met again, but no memories of our relationship.
“The second time,” he confirms.
“How could I forget,” I say. “You saved my life twice that day.”
“And you saved mine twice that day,” Marcus says. I never really considered myself a heroine. Oh, sure I planned the escape that ultimately extricated Evie, Marcus and I from Crimson. And I suppose I did rescue Marcus twice that day: first from the raging rapids and then I carried him to safety and sewed up his wound after he was shot in the leg. But I’m far from heroic. The thought makes me uncomfortable
“Pollen, look at me.” My heart shivers with apprehension. Like a lazy cat on a hot day, I roll over to face Marcus, our noses nearly touching. His deep blue sapphire eyes sink into mine and I am trapped in his penetrating gaze as I have been many times before.
“We made it through that day because we had each other. Please stop pushing me away. I can’t bear to see you like this.” He brushes the wisps of hair out of my eyes as he did those early days after we found each other in the woods. For this brief moment in time, I forget about what I’ve done to him, to myself.
He inches closer to me and I allow his lips to caress mine. Uncontrolled, my body flinches at his touch, but rather than retreat, Marcus pushes on, crushing his lips firmly against mine. An emotional hurricane stirs within me; a combination of guilt, shame, lust and yearning. Tears dribble from my cheeks to his and he pulls away, wiping them from my face with his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wedging my elbow beneath me. I reach out and wipe my tears off his face with the back of my hand. Before I can pull away, Marcus takes my hand and presses my palm against his face as a child would with her security blanket.
“No. I’m sorry,” says Marcus. “I don’t mean to push you. I just really miss you.” His words kindle the whimpering flame in my heart. Perhaps if I share my passions once again with Marcus, I can bury the memories of what I’ve done forever.
Somewhere within me I find the strength to ignite the spark that drew us together in the first place. Marcus still holds my hand on his cheek. My other hand takes his other cheek and pulls him to me. My violent need to be free of the past overpowers my shameful sorrow.
Although Marcus is cautious in his handling of me, I part his silky lips with mine and thrust my tongue into the steamy abyss. His sandpap
er face scratches mine as I sway my head side to side, being sure to caress every square inch of his mouth.
Marcus slides his hand up the back of my lacy camisole, tracing the arch of my vertebrae all the way up to my shoulders, sending electric shocks radiating down my spine. His bare chest presses against mine with nothing more than the delicate lace of the camisole between us. The thin fabric is an unwelcome barrier and I yearn to appease my craving for skin-to-skin contact. I raise my arms while Marcus eases the camisole over my head and releases my body from its modest confinement. His kisses leave my lips and travel down my neck, my shoulders, to my chest, where he teases me with his velvet tongue. My back arches in rapture and his hands follow my curves down to my hips, jerking them against his.
My hand glides down his waist to his stomach, tracing every sculpted abdominal muscle in detail, as it searches lower and lower.
As if there weren’t a second to spare, Marcus slides on top of me, his kisses more intent and unyielding. He gazes into my eyes longingly as he undulates to the rhythm of a melodic sonata. Our eyes are locked, our souls entwined, and neither of us can look away. He pulls me in deeper and deeper with his mesmerizing gaze; I’m in a euphoric trance. Suddenly, his passionate tidal waves quicken to a heavy metal guitar riff and my hips rise up to meet his. The pressure builds deep within me, each pulse raising it up a notch. Just as Marcus takes his final plunge, my body erupts with an explosion of fireworks. I’m sure even the tips of my fingers are shooting sparks.
We lie together silently and intertwined until Timber brings Evie back home. There’s no need for us to talk. We are one being again, one soul divided into two bodies. Ultimately connected through space and time. My illicit actions with Glenn are but a distant memory now.
Crimson Return Page 8
