She backs away a step, tugging her coat tighter in and glancing at the closed door.
“This isn’t right. They’re people. Why are they in there?”
“They’re fucking dogs,” I spit out, annoyed with her comparison to humans. “Dogs that ripped you to pieces and left you to rot.”
My finger presses the buzzer repeatedly, causing all three of them to wail and rush around the cage, bellowing out their pain and annoying me further as they crash into the bars. So I press again, and again, all the time watching the look of horror on her face and wishing she could remember the pain they caused her.
“Stop, Jack. Please stop,” she says, her hands rising to the side of her head as she watches on and drops to the floor in the corner.
No. I won’t fucking stop. I’ll never fucking stop. And her hiding down there, refusing to see this as necessary only furthers my infuriation. I grab at her arm, hauling her up to drag her back into the middle of the room. She’ll damn well watch, hear the noise, see the fucking pain they’re in and will it on them with me.
“Your body was raped, split open and beaten by them,” I snarls out, one hand holding her still against the bars. “Lenon shot in the chest while he slept, blood pouring from his body.” She gasps at that, her own frame trying to wiggle backwards. “These dogs did that to you, to him. They fucking took you both from me and no one’s doing that again.”
She rips herself away from me, eyes wild as she thrashes at my body until she’s free of my hold and snatches the keys from the side wall. It makes me sneer at her, uncaring for the whimpering that comes from the dogs, and back myself towards the cage door. “And now they’ll work for us, Selma. They will. They’ll hunt and kill for you. Make sure you never leave here again. I’ve trained them. Open the door.”
My finger goes up to my mouth, hushing everything. The dogs quieten their rapid pacing behind me to the silent padding they’ve been trained to, dog one leading the pack in his gesture of compliance as he watches her. “Come, talk to them. Let them hear what they’ve learnt to protect.”
“Talk to them?” she whispers with frantic glances at my hand as I hold it out to her.
I nod, waiting for her to see the sense in all this and learn to trust me. They’ll protect her now, chase some rabbits for her if she wants that from them. She takes my hand slowly, rallying herself into the woman she should be behaving like. It’s almost a sight to behold as she lets Selma inside again, relegating this frightened version of herself to the wings and becoming my wife instead.
“They know you,” I say, reaching behind me to pick up the old picture of her on the terrace. Such a lovely day, her hair shining in the sunlight, eyes sparkling like they always did. I hand it over to her, smiling at the intrigue in her eyes as she looks at it. “They’ve done nothing but look at this picture for as long as I’ve had them here, baby.”
She sighs and looks up at me, a half smile on her lips as she hands it back to me and walks towards the bars.
“Do they have names?”
“No.”
“Jack, they must have names.”
“None that fucking matter.”
Dog one moves in closer as she gets to him, loose jowls hanging in a display of submission as he creeps along with slow footfalls until she reaches a hand to the bars and smiles at him.
“You’re okay,” she says, the perfect amount of beauty ringing through her tone to quieten any amount of fear they might be feeling. “You’re going to be fine now.”
Chapter 18
Madeline
I don’t know what’s happening. These are people I’ve found in here—three of them, all shivering and scared of anything that moves. Certainly Jack. And the smell is disgusting, as if they’ve been in here for weeks, months even. Urine, faeces. The tell-tale reek of vomit. It’s enough that my eyes are watering and I’m having to hold my breath just to be able to pull in a quick gulp of oxygen when I can.
They’re so quiet, all of them, barely anything but skin and bones between them. Blood is scattered across their bodies, along with filth and grime that seems imprinted on them. It’s sickening to witness, but Jack says they’re responsible for Selma’s death in some way. That the three of them murdered her along with their son. If that’s true, they probably deserve everything they’ve got, but it’s still not right.
The taller one hovers on the floor by my feet, only the bars separating us as the keys I picked up twitch in my hands. He’s told me to open the doors, but I don’t know if I should or not by the look of this one’s eyes. They’re rabid, uncertain. I noticed them when he flew at me, sending me reeling into the corner in fear.
“It’s okay,” I whisper down at him, crouching and considering offering my hand in the hope he’ll be gentle. “I’m going to get you out of here now.”
Jack scoffs behind me, making me turn to glare at his mocking laughter.
“You always were too kind, baby.” His words hit home more than I’d like to admit. Too kind. Always giving someone a second chance, always giving Lewis a second chance.
Lewis.
I stand up, turning to look at the door for the first time since I found this room. He’s here, down those stairs somewhere, isn’t he? I walk towards the door and put my ear to it, listening for his whereabouts.
“Ballroom,” Jack mutters, sitting on the table and staring at the picture I handed back to him.
I gaze at him, bemused by his apparent boredom. I don’t understand why he isn’t scared. He should be. This is Lewis we’re talking about. If he’s found me, he’ll be livid with Jack for being here, ready to kill him for harbouring me, let alone touching me. He saw what Lewis did to my home.
“Don’t you care?”
“About what?”
“Lewis.”
“No, you have your dogs. A gun in your pocket. Make them all work for you, baby.”
Baby? When did that start to feel so comfortable?
He said it down at the treehouse, and earlier than that, called me it as we made love. It feels so familiar, so ground in. Like it’s been used a thousand times and acknowledged with the smile that wants to break across my lips. Still I stare, unsure what I should do. Perhaps I should just go down and talk to Lewis, try to smooth things over and then go back with him. It’s not like I can stay here forever. I never could have, no matter how appealing the thought. I’ve only ever been here to find myself, work out how to get even or just carry on trying to live my life again.
I dig into my pocket, feeling for the gun, and let the cold metal mould into my grip. It’s as uncomfortable as it’s always been. I’m not built for this. I’m not whatever this place is turning me into. I just want my peaceful life again. I want the laughter I wished for, the love I was beginning to feel again for life, even if it was with a man I don’t really know.
I stare at him, wondering where Selma’s gone from my mind. She’d be doing what he says, wouldn’t she? She’d know how to feel about these men in front of me, perhaps feel the vengeance he so vehemently does. But I’m not her, and this isn’t right, unless it is.
I’m so confused.
“Jack, this is stupid. I’m just going to go talk to him, work it out.” He raises a brow at me, nothing more, then slides himself from the table and walks closer to me.
“You think that will make your life freer?”
A noise comes from below us somewhere, footsteps along the hall maybe. They’re coming for the spiral, aren’t they? Lewis is. He’s coming to get me, make me go back with him.
Save yourself, Maddy. Home.
I half jump at her voice in my head, shaking it to try to find what I want in this situation, as I look at the floor waiting for frost. Maddy, she’s always called me that, pulling me back to who I was before Lewis. I shake my head again, knowing I’ll never be Maddy again. Too many bruises made her leave. Too many nights in pain.
“My life will be simpler, Jack. I’ll talk to him, make him see that…”
The room goe
s darker, stopping my mouth from voicing my thoughts, shadows looming where the light filtered in slightly until it’s almost pitch black. I glance at the men when one of them moans and whines at something, his feet pacing the cage, worried about what’s scared them.
“You know better than that, baby. It will only be simpler when he’s dead.” Jack brushes a finger over my cheek suddenly, warming me into thinking he’s actually touching me, but he’s not. He’s touching her, loving her. “We can be together again then. Just you and me. In this home you made for us.” The way the words come make me feel anything but me. They remind me of the haunting memories that come when she’s near us, the cold creeping my bones and telling me this is all okay. “You remember it all, don’t you?” I do. He’s right. And the more he talks, the more I forget the stench in the room, somehow lifting myself above it as if it’s just a mere piece of a puzzle that needs solving so we can both move on. “You remember our wedding night? The way I caressed your stomach?” Oh god, I do. I can feel it now as he presses a hand against me in the same spot, his other hand wrapping around my back. “It’s all down to you now, baby. It’s all in your hands.” I can’t stop gazing at his mouth, the words somehow deepening my feelings for him rather than Selma’s. And she’s here with us again now. I can feel her whispering across my skin, showing me a way that’s not mine. “Just let the dogs out, baby. Let them work for us and then we’ll both be free. Kill him.”
“Kill.” The word mumbles from me, my hand still gripped around the gun in my pocket as I stare into the stormy eyes I first saw when I tumbled down the front steps. It seems so long ago now, like he’s another person, too. He’s so much softer like this. Calmer. But it’s whenever she’s here. That’s what changes him. For both of us. She makes this work, makes us fit together, and I’m not her.
He nods at the cage again, a look of comfort making me question the lucidity of all of this. He’s proud of these people and the state they’re in. Proud of himself for the fact that they’re here at all. Dogs, he called them. Nothing but dogs.
“They’re my present to you, for you,” he says, backing away a few steps. “Use them.”
The keys in my hand suddenly turn to ice in my grip, the freezing temperature making me jump and lose hold of them. They clatter to the floor, skating sideways, and I scurry to grab at them before it’s too late. The tall one’s hand has grabbed at them before I can get there, latching onto them and drawing them back into the cage with him.
He looks as surprised as I am as he falls back onto his haunches and fingers the steel in his hands, eyes narrowed, as if maybe this is the first chance at escape he’s ever had. I don’t know what to do, causing me to look at Jack for help. He doesn’t give any at all. He just stands there and waits for me to do something, a wry look on his face as if something is funny.
“What now?” I ask, turning back to face the tall one and resting my hands on the cage bars. The other two come forward, pacing a little behind the front one and making some noise that haunts the air with more visions of Selma. “Jack? What now?”
I feel entranced by the look of the three of them as the two scamper about behind the tall one, mesmerised by the sight of them acting like a pack of dogs. They don’t even seem to move like humans anymore. They’re lower, almost bent over as if ready to run on all fours. And the small one fidgets constantly, as if scratching himself and shaking all the time.
Crashing feet on the spiral break me of my trance, making me swing to look at the door again and wonder what to do. He’ll be here soon, his hands grabbing at me to make me go back to a life I don’t want. Jack said these men would help me, that I should use them. I don’t see how, or why. They’re just prisoners here, ones I’m sure will run for their freedom the moment they open this door.
“I don’t want to go back with him,” I muse, closing my eyes and resting my head on the bars. “I don’t. I want to live again.” The scampering about stops in front of me, their bare feet suddenly silent on the stale carpet beneath them. “I want a chance, you know?” Tears come from nowhere as I say those words—tears I’ve cried all too often as I remember my life as a teenager, the hope associated with that. “I just want him to leave me alone so I can live.” The gun hangs heavy in my pocket as I roll my forehead on the bars, trying to dismiss the idea of killing him. It’s not me to be like that, no matter how I want to end my life with him. I don’t even know if I can. I’m so full of Selma’s love I can’t think of anything but life with Jack. “I need help, Selma. I’m not a killer. I don’t know what to do.”
The gate in my hands unexpectedly pushes open, making me jump back and scurry to the corner of the room. Shit. I brace against the wall, my arms covering myself as I tug the coat tighter in and stare at the tall one. He frowns at me, the twitch in his brow the most human thing I’ve seen from him so far as he stands tall. The other two hover in the gate, seemingly unable to walk through it as they sniff the air around them nervously.
“Jack?” He doesn’t answer, just sits there still, his legs firm in front of him as he crosses his arms and watches on. “Jack? What do I do?”
The sudden burst of speed that comes from the tall one has me trying to climb the wall behind me, desperate to escape his potential hold on me. I go to scream, my mouth opening, and then remember Lewis and clamp my mouth closed as the man stops in front of me, barely an inch between us. He sniffs, nostrils flaring as he inhales close to my neck, then sniffs again as he moves his face around mine. My eyes squeeze shut, willing whatever is happening to stop so I can run, but nothing happens after that. Nothing at all in the minute or so I wait.
This could be the end of me, and perhaps it should be. Lewis could come in here and kill me for my misdemeanour. Or I could do it myself. Perhaps then Jack and Selma could be together, lose themselves in each other. She could take me over, change form with me somehow so this confusion could dissipate. That’s what seems to happen when we’re close. Maybe that’s what this is all meant to be, where it’s supposed to end up.
I smile at thought and reach into my coat pocket to close my grip around the gun again, relaxing. My eyes might still be pressed closed, but suddenly I’m far less confused about everything. Any form of death might be the right way forward. Mine. Lewis’. Either way, I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore, at least.
I’d be free then.
Free, Maddy. Home.
“Selma? Is this it?” I whisper, trying to avoid the smell of the tall one under my nose as I imagine them together, us together. It’s as warming to me in this frigid room as it always is. As heart softening.
The heat blooms inside my chest, readying me for whatever’s coming as I start opening my eyes and squeeze the metal in my grasp. Whatever it is, I want to see Jack as it happens. I want to watch him smile at me and welcome Selma home, see the love in his gaze. Everything has been about this moment, about them joining. And I can feel it so deeply entrenched inside me, as if I never had any other option but to succumb to it. Lewis dead or me dead. That’s the way this works for them both. It’s why I’m here, so I can let them be together again in some way.
Footsteps echo in the halls outside, making my gaze swing to the door rather than the man in front of me. I don’t think I’m even that scared anymore as I wait for the door to burst open and draw the gun from my pocket. I’ll either die here for Jack and Selma, or I’ll shoot him myself when he enters the room. I doubt I’ve got the capacity to do the latter, even with Selma circulating my skin. I’m weak like that, fearful. Always have been. Maddy is as feeble in this scenario as she’s always been, no matter how hard I’ve tried not to be. But I’m damned if I’m going back with him again, not after this realm that’s shown me true love.
I’d rather die.
Fear begins to ride me again, anxiety rippling through my body as I wait and wonder what will happen when he sees me and Jack. Tears come from that thought alone, some latent thought of love for Lewis encroaching on me. It fills me with times gone by of m
y own, of the memories in Paris and the way he used to make me smile. Where did that man go? Why? I wish I had the answers as I raise the gun towards the door, barely able to point it for my shaking hands. It would give all of this some reason. It would give my life some reason before it ends or I become a murderer.
Free, Maddy.
“Oh god, help me.” The plea wobbles out of me, and I’m unsure who I’m asking for help. I can’t do this. I know I can’t. The gun that felt so secure when Jack showed me how to use it feels so frightening in my hold now. I’m scared, trembling, the metal juddering about as I try to hold it straight at the door and pretend I’m in control of this. I’m not. I’m terrified of him. Always have been. And he’s here now. I can hear him on the outside, hear his voice coming for me. “Please help.”
The door crashes in before I get another chance at breath, Lewis’ face immediately penetrating me as he storms a foot into the room. He stops and spins his angry glare to me, making me back to the wall again, then flicks it at the tall man still stood in front of me and around the room.
“The hell is this?” he snarls, scowling at the scene, as he fills the doorframe and bores those eyes into me again. I shake still, every ounce of fear I’ve ever had making me quake at the thought of what he’ll do to me. I flick a half glance to Jack and find him stood this time, his scowl as hard as Lewis’ as he returns the glare.
The gun in my hand vibrates still, now pointed at the back of the tall man’s head. He’s moved slightly, getting in my way, and all I can see is his back. It’s layered with filth and grime, bits of blood dried into what’s left of the shirt that once covered him.
“Come here, Mads. You’re coming home,” Lewis spits out, offering his hand to me.
Mads. Little Mads. Cute, easy going, forgiving Mads.
Still I shake and point the gun, unsure who I’m pointing it at anymore. I’m not going home with him, though. There is no home with Lewis. There is only pain and humiliation. Hatred and disgrace. The thought rouses my hand, the quiver in it diminishing slightly as I continue to point it towards the doorway.
The Spiral Page 20
