“Stop.” He does, turning to look at me with shame in his silver eyes. “Your impulses…do they come with remorse after the fact? Do you understand when you’ve done something wrong?” He nods. “What are they? Your disorders?”
“Conflicting.”
Pulling away from me, he stands and places the papers on his desk, lining them up perfectly with the corner.
“You said you wanted time on your own today. That’s fine with me.”
“What if I don’t?”
His voice is low and pained when he replies, “I can’t talk anymore right now.”
“Are you tired?”
He nods.
“Come and sleep with me.”
“Now?” He glances at his watch.
“Yes, now. It’s impulsive to sleep during the day. Let’s do it together.”
He nods, giving in to his exhaustion and the havoc on his mind, and takes another deep steadying breath. When I take his hand, he squeezes gently and lets me lead him from the office and upstairs. When I attempt to take us into my room, he tugs on my hand and takes us to his instead. He says nothing as he pulls the bedsheets back, then repeats the process, flattens out the pillows, smooths down the sheet covering the mattress, and pats the bed where he wants me to lay.
“Can you talk when you’re sleepy?” I ask as we climb in bed and he pulls my back to his front.
“Not really. There’s a bad side to every good guy, caterpillar, but there’s a flicker of light inside every demon.”
“I know.”
I lay as still as possible, allowing Cooper to take what he needs from me—what he’s always needed from me—until his breathing slows and evens out, and I know he’s asleep.
Cooper sleeps the rest of the day away, and I allow him. I sleep on and off, waking to check on him, deciding to get up when I notice dusk approaching. I slip out of bed and into the bathroom connected to his bedroom. I wash up, clean up things he left out from his shower this morning, taking time to smell his towel as I hang it up, and his shower gel as I right it in the corner of the shower cubicle. I stop in front of the mirror to comb my fingers through my hair and wonder what it was that triggered Cooper’s obsession with me. What triggers our obsessions with anyone or anything? Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason; sometimes we do the things we do without thinking, without contemplating the risks or consequences. I know that is what makes Cooper who he is. He’s never had direction, never been allowed to just be who he is without trying to control his urges. I knew he was crazy, and he is, but there is so much depth to the man who acts without thought and refuses to feel guilty because he can’t change. Why would he promise to do something he has no control over?
I open the cupboard, unsurprised when I see rows of boxes of medication lined up along the bottom shelf. I take them out one at a time, with no clue what they mean.
Warm hands touch my hips, before one strong arm wraps around my waist as Cooper rests his chin on my shoulder and reaches out to point to the first box. His voice is hoarse when he points out each one of his medications.
“Anti-depressants,” he says sleepily. “They control irritability, hopelessness and anger.” He slides his finger along the shelf and points to the second box. “Mood stabilisers. They pretty much do just that; they control the mood swings and aggression.” He points to the third box—there are two of those. “Anti-psychotics. They help me keep a grasp on reality—on what’s okay and what’s not.” He flicks the final box and kisses my neck. “Anti-anxiety meds. They stabilise agitation and help with insomnia.”
“You take all of these?”
“Fifteen pills a day, but like I said, they’re conflicting. The dosage has been calculated carefully, but they don’t always work. Sometimes my mind is stronger than medicine. The anti-depressants and mood stabilisers clash sometimes and I crash. It’s not uncommon for me to be out for days when I'm on a downer. The anti-psychotics remind me I’m on Earth and a fully functioning adult, but paired with the mood stabilisers, sometimes the opposite happens and I get irritated with reality. Anti-anxieties should be avoided with someone with one of my conditions, but the other needs it. It’s why I stay out of the public eye—because they increase impulsive behaviour and I can’t anticipate or control my own actions.”
“Cooper.”
“It’s who I am, don’t feel sorry for me.” He kisses my neck again and turns me to face him, edging me back to lean against the sink. “It took a while for someone to realise I could get help, and another while to get the balance correct, but I deal with it.”
“I want to help you.”
He shrugs and smiles sadly. “You can’t.”
“I want to stay with you.”
“What?”
I comb my fingers through his hair and lean forward to kiss his chest.
“We don’t always need a reason. Sometimes we just need someone to stay. I’m afraid of you, Cooper. I’m afraid of what you’ll do to me, but I want to live in the fear. You’re right, I do enjoy it. What do you think would have happened if you just made contact with me, now you can look back and think about what you did?”
“I think you would have thought I was a freak, and ran, and I would have still done what I did, just with more aggression.”
“What if I didn’t think you were a freak?” I trail my finger over his lip and smile when he nips the tip. “What if, now I know everything I do, I think you’re beautiful?”
“Because I’m a science project?”
“Because you’re fascinating. Because you forced me to see you, like I needed to. Because you encourage me to look at what we might have always had. Maybe, in this case, your conditions gave you the bravery we both needed.”
“Is that what you think?” He closes his eyes, opening them again slowly. “Or are you playing me so I’ll let you go?”
“Listen to me and not your mind,” I say with a tap to his temple. “I. Want. To. Stay.”
“You have no choice.”
“Perhaps I don’t. And perhaps I like that. Maybe, if you force me to stay here with no say, I’ll force you to apply for full custody of Doe.”
He stiffens, biting his bottom lip and trembling with the need to stay in control of his reaction.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Caterpillar.” He caresses my cheek and I nuzzle into his touch. “We’ve had enough revelations for one day. I want to eat and try to watch that dude in the mask movie from beginning to end.”
“We can do that.” I narrow my eyes at him, and test his devotion to me—his desire to make this work beyond control. “Can we order in a pizza?”
“I don’t do takeout.”
“Maybe we should try letting loose on the things you do control, so we can look at how to work on the things you can’t.”
He thinks for a second, but can’t hide the small smile. “Pepperoni?”
“My favourite.”
“I think you might kill me.”
“If one goes down, we both go down.”
He nods.
“Then let’s go down and order a pizza.”
For a man who claims to not like takeaway, Cooper eats three quarters of our pepperoni and triple cheese pizza. While I have a glass of wine, he has a bottle of water, and when I reach for the Maltesers, he shakes his head and blows out an uncomfortable breath.
“What do we do now?” I ask as Cooper sets up the TV.
“What do you mean?”
“Well.” I shuffle to get comfortable and slide closer to him. “I’ve decided to stay.”
He laughs. “There isn’t exactly a check-out service in this situation. It doesn’t matter if you’ve decided to stay—you’re not going anywhere anyway.”
“Coop.”
“Nothing’s changed, caterpillar. I still plan on keeping you here, and I’ll still kill you if you leave.”
“Even though we both know you’ll suffer if you do?”
He can’t be serious. He held me in
bed. He slept with his nose in my hair, his arms around me, and he chest rising and falling against me as he allowed himself to relax. Things have changed; he just refuses to admit it.
“I’ve been suffering since the day I was born.”
“And you won't decide not to suffer, for the first time in your life?”
He taps the top of my arm to ask me to move away from him. When I do, he stands from the sofa and moves towards the door.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, more desperate for his company than I realised.
He doesn’t answer, but he does walk out of the room and leave me to watch the man in the black cape by myself. I know I pushed, and I shouldn’t have. I know Cooper’s…quirks mean he can’t hope not to suffer, he can’t hope for things to change; he daren’t hope to find some form of happiness. It’s like he has an allergy to making plans; every day since he took me, he’s grown more used to my need to leave. Where he thought I’d stay and play his game, I wanted to go. Now I’m switching it back on him, and he can’t cope. He hasn’t had time to plan for my compliance. It was easier on his mind when I fought him. So should I continue to fight, despite what I now know I want to do? Or do I force him to acknowledge this, and take the risk of toying with his beast when I don’t know what it can really do?
It’s past midnight when my patience runs out and I get up to go and find him. I’ve been here for over a week, and done absolutely nothing. I won't allow him to just leave me while he does whatever he wants. I want to help him, to ease his mind and be gentle in my defiance, but I won't be taken for granted, and I won't be treated like a prisoner when I’ve chosen to stay. I leave the TV room and stand in the hallway to listen for him. I can’t hear him, but there’s a soft light coming from an open door along the hall. I follow it, tiptoeing on the wooden floor so I don’t catch his attention. I want to know what he’s doing when he can’t lie to me. I want to see what he does when his mind takes over. He’s in his office and I stand just outside the door to listen; I can hear him talking quietly to himself before there are taps on the computer. When I brave looking and peek carefully between the gap, I see him sitting in his chair with his back to the desk so he can watch the screens. I have no idea how he manages to watch them all at the same time, but he’s scribbling things on a pad of paper on his lap and glancing between each of the screens. He’s making a note of times. He’s tracking the progress of several swimmers. He is a fucking spy; there’s no denying it. He left me alone to come and spy on people so he can stalk their careers. There’s no personality disorder that condones that, and I won't let him use it as an excuse.
“Screen eight.” His voice sends chills up my spine and I freeze. “Nathan Roy. Eighteen-year-old Canadian, and he swims like a fucking torpedo. I’d watch for his left shoulder…looks like a lingering injury, so could be a potential weakness. His freestyle kicks ass, though, so I’d concentrate on that.”
I look around for someone else, wondering why he’d be telling me about this Canadian swimmer. I find screen eight and watch as he turns and begins a new length. He is good, but I see no weakness with his shoulder. His stroke is smooth and fluid, with so much power he overtakes his teammates quickly. I move to step into the room.
“What’s the time? What time is he swimming at?”
“Wait ‘til I’ve watched it all and I’ll give you an average.”
“Fucking Canadians.” The familiar voice grunts in frustration and I close my eyes, praying it’s just my imagination. “We’re top of the league and they think they can worm their way in with some French kid.”
“He’s from Victoria. Technically, actually, he’s from Seattle. Mom is American, Dad is from Victoria. Nate chose to swim for Canada. Not that I blame him—I haven’t seen them use drones.”
“Funny. Whatever, just keep an eye on him and give me his average.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t screw this up, Jennings.”
“Screwing up isn’t my thing.”
A barking laugh travels through the speaker before the call ends, and I feel the shame swoop into the room to envelope Cooper and draw me in closer to him.
“You’re spying on the competition for USA.”
Cooper jumps when I step into the room, closing the door behind me to force him to stay. I will make him face this—face me—without being able to see the exit.
He claps, eyeing me with a menacing glare as he turns his chair to face me. “Well done, caterpillar.”
“Fuck off with the caterpillar stuff. Did you really leave me to come and help your country cheat?”
“Feeling a little neglected?” he asks, tapping his chin. “Hurt, perhaps? A little needy and desperate for attention?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“How very British of you.”
“Last time I checked, we were in England.”
He shrugs, tilting his head to assess me with a smile. “What do you want, Erin? I came here to get away from you.”
“At least one of us can get away.”
“You chose this.”
Bastard. I didn’t choose this…I chose to make the best of the situation he thrust me into, and try to figure him out so he had someone who understood him. Now he’s throwing it back at me?
“Don’t push away the only person who gives a shit, Cooper.”
“Erin, I really don’t care.” He’s lying. I can see it in his eyes and the way he clenches his fist on top of the desk—with the need to punish himself. “You’re staying whether you like it or not. This is how I earn my living, pay for this house, feed you, and take care of my daughter. Ethics don’t come into it.”
“Of course they come into it. What was it you said, every bad guy has a good side and every good guy has a slither of darkness?”
“That’s what I said, caterpillar. I’m a bad guy…the good side is the only thing keeping you alive for bursting in here on me.”
“Why are you spying for Brad? I thought he trained you, took you to the top?”
“Didn’t do a whole lot of good, did it?”
“You self-pitying arrogant piece of shit. You’re going to ruin others’ chances because your lung ruined yours.”
He cocks a brow at me and this time, his smirk is genuine. “That’s not what I do.”
“Did you cheat? Did Brad use someone else to spy on others so you’d win?”
“No.” He growls. “I worked my arse off for every fucking second I wiped off my time.”
“So what the fuck happened then? How did you get to this point, Cooper?”
He shrugs. “I almost died.”
“You can’t use that excuse forever.”
“I’m not fucking talking to you.” He reaches into his drawer and grabs a pot of pills, tipping two into his hand and knocking them back.
“What was that?” I take a step closer to his desk. “What did you take?”
“Something to send me to sleep for a while. I want to make you shut your mouth, but that good side is still around so I’m shutting mine instead.”
“You’re a coward.” I take another step towards him. “You’re not supposed to let your issues win, Cooper. Jesus, what is wrong with you?”
I drag my hands through my hair and turn away from him for just a second.
“I have a degree, you know. When you crash out of a sports career like I did, they don’t supplement the loss of earnings.” I do know. I know just as well as Cooper. “A breach of contract is a breach of contract, whether it’s due to unavoidable circumstances or fucking your coach.”
“Don’t.”
He laughs, shutting down his laptop and the screens while he’s still conscious. His eyes are beginning to droop and I know the crash he mentioned earlier is looming. He’s still chuckling to himself as he sends us into darkness, only the faint light from outside the window remaining.
“Oh, caterpillar. I’m only playing. You know, I was so fucking jealous when I watched him fuck you. I jerked off to your moans in real-tim
e once. I was in the States for preliminaries, couldn’t sleep, jumped forward in time a few hours and joined you while he had you bent over the bench in the family changing room.”
“Stop it.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t care. It wasn’t intended for you. Do you know how many laws you’re breaking by recording people without their permission?”
“Oh, but I have immunity. No one gives a shit what I watch—I can’t upload it to porn sites…but then, no one gets to see you but me.”
He scrubs at his eyes, and I know he’s regretting taking the sedative. Once again, he acted without thought, and now it’s too late to avoid the consequences. He’s too tired to lock up the house; I can see the flash of paranoia spark in his eyes. He thinks I’m going to run and he knows he can’t stop me.
“How do you have immunity?”
“I made a deal with the CIA.”
“The CIA? Now you’re delusional.” I cross the room and grab the top of his arm. “Come on, get in bed or you’ll be moaning of backache when you wake up from your coma.”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he slurs.
“No. You shouldn’t.” I tug at him again. “Get up, Cooper.”
He helps me get him up, gripping the edge of the desk and using anything he can get his hands on to support himself on the journey up to his bedroom.
“How long are you likely to be out of it?” I ask, wondering if there’s any sense of reality left in him.
“Don’t know.” He slumps onto the bed and I manage to pull his socks and belt off before he kicks me away and tucks himself under the covers. “Don’t leave, Erin.”
“You’re lucky I give a shit. I’ll be here when you wake up, but only because I don’t want your death on my conscience.”
“You’re lucky you have that choice. My conscience and I don’t get along.”
“I know.” I stroke his hair away from his face as he closes his eyes and nuzzles into my wrist. When I cup his cheek, he hums a thank you. “Give your mind a rest, Coop.”
Cooper isn’t the only spy in this house. With him comatose, I know I’m safe to have a look around. I’ve needed time to figure this out since he took me, but his intensity has blinded me. The reality of the life I face now, and the life he forced me into years ago, has left me stumbling in the dark and looking for a way out—or forward—I don’t know. I stand next to his bed watching him sleep and create a mental list of what I want to do while he’s out—categorising in order of priority…just in case.
Butterfly Page 16
