by M. C. Cerny
As the late spring sky darkens, I get out of the car and slam the door, jogging up the stone path to collect the mail. I grab the small stack of envelopes, thumbing through them. Most are addressed to Jack. I will either drop them off tomorrow or he will pick them up on Wednesday when he comes to take out the garbage bins so I don’t have to drag the heavy cans to the street. I know Aiden would happily do it, but Jack insists. It’s something about not being an absentee homeowner, but my hope is that he does it to see me. However, he usually times those visits for before I get home from class. The separation is awful, and I’m getting tired of waiting, but I don’t feel I can ask him when things will change.
The mail is nothing more than a collection of various bills and credit card offers. However, one of them looks like a fancier envelope addressed to Jack. I turn it over and the return address is for London. From Jack’s cousins maybe? I know he has family over there…and an ex-girlfriend, who I definitely don’t want to know about. Walking into the house, I take the junk mail and tear them up, putting them in the silver garbage canister. I drop the invitation and bills on the counter.
“Aiden, I’m home. You want to order takeout or FaceTime Shelby first?”
I putter around the kitchen, looking for the takeout menus we usually keep in the junk drawer. Pulling open drawers yields nothing, not even the usual random paperclips or batteries. Since Shelby left, Aiden’s been on this OCD cleaning spree. His coping skills are probably better than mine right now.
“Aiden! Yo, doc?! I hope you’re not wanking off in there!” As I walk towards the back of the house where the spare bedroom is, I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise. “Aiden?” I call out again and listen. I inhale and exhale, my heart rate racing wildly, the pumping as loud as a door slamming.
Catching a whiff of something, a warning signal blares through my body, and I quickly turn in time to deflect the large body coming at me.
“Fuck!” I yell as I’m slammed into the wall. Instinctively, I hunch over to protect itself as another painful blow lands, catching my shoulder.
“You fucking dirty cunt,” I hear as I slide to the floor, my breath shaky. I’m pretty sure my ribs are broken, and I can taste blood in my mouth.
“Daniel, you’re breaking the No Contact order.” I don’t know how I get the words out as calmly as I do because of the pain I’m in. The asshole kneels down to my level and grabs me by the hair, spitting in my face.
“How’s that for keeping my distance, bitch.”
He drags me further down the hallway and that’s when I see the door cracked open. Aiden is lying on his side on the floor. I don’t know if he’s dead or just hurt.
“Oh, Aiden…” The words slip from my lips, tears mixing with blood and stinging my face.
“It wasn’t bad enough you hooked up with the professor, but you had to fuck the doctor, too?” When he pulls me up to stand, a guttural sound emanates from my battered body.
“I never–”
Daniel shakes me hard, slamming me back against the wall, my head bouncing off it, a picture frame falling to the floor, the glass and metal frame shattering.
“Fucking liar is what you are. What they all are.”
He mumbles more unintelligible words as he drags me into the living room. My eyes scan for something, anything I can use to hit him with. However, unlike the first time, Jack is not at the door, ready to swoop in like a knight in shining armor to save me, and my only other hero is currently unconscious.
“What did you do to Aiden?” I ask as he pushes me to the floor between the heavy wooden coffee table and the pretty couch that had recently started to grow on me.
“I gave the doctor a taste of his own medicine.” Sheer terror courses through me. Daniel is fucking crazy. The girls at the rehab center had nothing on Daniel Munson.
“What did you do to him?” I grapple with the table, struggling to get up, but Daniel kicks my hands away. I hear a pop and I scream, wondering if he broke a finger.
“I put a little something in his beverage while I waited for you, little bird.” Daniel sits down on the couch and leans back, almost looking pleased with himself.
“You disgusting piece of shit,” I growl out. Aiden is probably dead because Daniel can’t take “no” for an answer. I picture myself trying to call Italy to tell Shelby this psychopath killed the love of her life while I just lay on the floor, doing nothing. Adrenaline courses through my body.
“You’re one to talk, Miss Trailer Trash. Did they give you an award, maybe a scholarship for being the most worthless whore to come out of Camden?” Daniel is taunting me, and it’s working. I struggle against the pain to stand up again. The anger, shame, and humiliation about where I came from and how hard I had to fight rears its ugly head within me.
“You’re calling me worthless? You’re the impotent, insecure little asshole who has to rape women to get what you want from them.” I say anything and everything that comes to mind. I watch his face heat a reddish-purple shade as I stumble backwards, my back hitting the wall. “Did your parents ignore you or something? Did your siblings and schoolmates pick on you? You’re a sad, sorry motherfucker, aren’t you?”
“Bitch!” he screams as he gives chase. I hobble into the kitchen, grabbing the cordless house phone in one hand, opening the utensil drawer with the other. Empty.
Smirking, Daniel stalks me around the kitchen island. “Looking for something? I took the pleasure of rearranging your drawers. Such a messy little bird you are.”
Pushing the button and putting the phone to my ear, I hear nothing.
“You see, I learned from the last encounter.”
I’m afraid to take my eyes off this man with wild hair and squirrelly eyes stalking me in my home. I spy the glass on the counter that Aiden must have used. It’s closer to me than it is to him, so I calculate my options. I have to get down the hallway to the front door because there is no doubt in my mind that he’s going to rape, then kill me.
“Apparently, you didn’t learn enough.”
I throw the phone at him, forcing him to catch it or be hit. I throw the glass of what looks like water at him, landing on the floor, making the stone tiles slick. I make a dash for the hallway, Daniel hot on my heels. My heart seems to slow down and thump which each step. Thump. Step. Thump. Step. Thump. Step. On the fourth step, I fall to the floor in the hallway where he had first thrown me against the wall.
“I’ll gut you, Edith.”
I scramble, trying to get up. He grabs my leg in a bruising grip and drags me down to the floor. I’m kicking and screaming, grabbing for anything to help me get away. I wish Jack was here. I wish I hadn’t been such a blasted pacifist and let Jack get a gun for the house. Flashes of happier days zip through my brain as Daniel’s hands claw at my legs, pulling me closer, his fingers like talons, tearing at me and bringing me closer to the end.
Screaming, I kick out again and try to get up, only to have him grab me again and pull. My head bangs against the floor a second time. I look up and see Aiden, prone and helpless, but I also spot a piece of the broken picture frame near my shoulder. Desperately trying to turn and roll away, I grab the broken piece and slash downward, missing. Screaming, I flail again, landing a blow across his face this time, cutting deep.
He releases me to cup his face. “Damn you! Damn you, bitch!”
I kick my feet and push him away. Blood is gushing everywhere. I stagger up and back away, my lunch threatening to come up from the gruesome image burned into my eyes of his mangled face. I grab my bag, which had been just out of reach. Daniel is still howling like an animal, blood running down his face, as I run into the office and lock the door, then drag the desk and chair in front of it. Running to Aiden, I fall to the floor and check for a pulse like he taught me.
“Damn it, Aiden. Come on. I need you. Wake up.” I push and slap him. A thready pulse beats under his skin, but his color looks off. I reach for my bag, grabbing my phone; I slide my finger across the screen and dial 9
11.
“Hello, please help me. I’ve been attacked in my home and my friend is unresponsive. I think he may have been poisoned.” The woman on the phone tells me her name is Kim and to stay on the line, then tells me to stay where I am until police arrive.
I hear the front door slam open, making me jump. “Edith! “Edith!” Jack.
“I’m in the office. Jack, it’s Daniel. He’s out there.”
“Baby…” I can hear Jack outside the door, but the dispatcher tells me to stay put. I’m torn, but I listen. Sirens herald in the distance.
“Aiden, stay with me. Help is coming.” I lift his head into my lap and he begins to seize, vomiting all over my legs. A loud commotion starts outside the door. I hear Jack yelling, police yelling, then the door is being ripped open.
“Edith!” Jack barrels through the door, three police officers behind him. They pull me from Aiden, and Jack grabs me, hugging so tight, the breath is pushed from my lungs. When I wince in pain, he softens his grip.
“It was Daniel. He did this. He did this to us.”
Jack cups my face in his palms, looking into my eyes. He’s saying something, but the words start to jumble together and everything gets hazy, fuzzy, and dark. I feel myself falling and floating, and Jack’s eyes go wide as I slip from his grasp into the dark abyss that sucks me down farther than ever before.
Jack
I’m furious they don’t let me ride in the ambulance. Once all this shit settles, heads will roll. When Aiden seized for the second time, they intubated him right in my office. His vitals had dropped dramatically and I thought I was losing him, too. The EMTs said Edith fainted from stress and possible internal injuries, but when they asked me if she might be pregnant, I didn’t know what to say to that. My heart pounded and fear made me sweat uncontrollably as I raced to my car.
I follow them to University Hospital, but when I try to enter the ER, I get stopped by two police officers who want me to make a statement. Luckily, Sam was the prosecutor on call because it took two officers and two security guards to keep me from barging into the emergency room. He advised them I could make any needed statements later and I was grateful he gave me that.
I feel like I’ve been in a car accident. My chest hurts so badly from the stress of walking into my house and seeing… Shit, there was blood everywhere. After the ambulance and I left my house, the police found Daniel Munson in my rose bushes, unconscious from blood loss. I call Shelby, leaving a message and telling her to call me. She needs to be here, but I know why she doesn’t want to be.
My knees bounce up and down with adrenaline as I sit in the most awful plastic chairs designed. Somebody needs to call IKEA and get them in here to design something better. Hospital waiting rooms are the worst.
“Mr. Hamilton?” A nurse in a pair of scrubs peeks through the door. “Come on back.” She ushers me beyond the door, and the two officers I scuffled with nod appreciatively, giving me a wide berth. I shrug and they shake their heads, smiling. I probably need to call Sam and thank him for keeping my ass out of jail tonight.
“Baby!” I rush to Edith’s bedside. She’s got bandages all over, her hand is in a splint, and she looks a mess.
“Jack, you came.” I grasp her hand, but she winces when I hold too tight.
“Hang on, sweetheart. Let me get a nurse to give you something.”
“No! I don’t want anything for the pain.” She must be trying to avoid it so she doesn’t get addicted on any level.
“They brought Aiden in and are treating him right now. I left a message for Shelby to call me as soon as she gets it.”
“What did he do to him?”
“Poisoned him, but they managed to pump his stomach. He’s stable now. The hospital called his parents since he’s listed as a student resident here. They’re on their way.”
“Wait until you meet them,” Edith mumbles and looks around the room, listless.
I feel so helpless and unsure. “What can I do?”
“Don’t look at me right now. I’m a mess.” She tries hiding her head. I’m stunned that she would even give a crap about that right now.
“But, baby, you’re my mess.” I lean over the bed and kiss her lips softly so as to not hurt her.
“All right. Enough of that. I’m Doctor Rajim. I need to look at my patient.” The doctor shakes my hand, then sweeps past me to look over Edith. When he gives me a telling look, I begrudgingly step outside the room to wait.
After what feels like an eternity, the nurse looks out the door and motions that I can come back in. When I do, Edith looks exhausted. I want nothing more than to wrap her up and take her somewhere safe.
“I’ll write a prescription, but you might have a feisty patient on your hands.” Doctor Rajim makes a few more notes in the chart, as I gingerly sit on the bed.
“I’m not taking the meds.” Her voice wavers and I hold her hand, listening to the doctor’s discharge instructions. She’s to take it easy and check in with her regular doctor in a few days.
When he walks out, I turn to her. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” I’m not worried about her becoming addicted this time because I know the warning signs. Plus, she’s stubborn enough to not take anything.
“I was so scared he was going to kill me.”
“But he didn’t and you got away. God, I should never have left you at the house without me.”
“Stop it, Jack. This wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was irresponsible. I should have been there.”
“All right. Your guilt’s be assuaged. You’re here now, and I’m going to be okay. A few broken fingers, busted ribs, and some scratches. I’m tougher than that.”
I take a shuddering breath. “I want to sell the house.”
“What? Absolutely not. I love that house. That’s our house. If it means redecorating, so be it. The first things that can go are those dumb couches in the living room. I’m sure they’re covered in blood.”
“So you finally tell me what you think of them.” We share a smile and, with my help, she scooches over in the bed so she can lay in my lap. I’d rather she stay put, but if the position makes her feel better, I’ll do whatever she wants. So much for Edith taking it easy.
“You can buy those leather sectionals you wanted.” If I’m not mistaken, my girl is almost purring with couch envy.
“Really? What else can I buy for the house?”
“I’m willing to negotiate.” A cheeky smile cracks her face and I squeeze her, excited with the possibility. She winces. “Ouch. Not so tight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just get me out of here.”
“Let me go find a nurse and spring you, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Edith
It’s been a few days since the attack. Daniel is currently spending his days making orange look good, and I’m eagerly waiting to testify to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law. Sam says I won’t have to get on the stand, but when I tell him I actually want to, Jack flips out and suggests I see his therapist friend, Fleur, to “process shit”. Honestly, I think Jack needs to process this more than I do. To keep him busy, I give him the task of hiring professional cleaners for the house. The couches are no longer an item of contention. In the meantime, we’re living in his apartment downtown.
“So tell me about your relationship with Jack.”
Fleur is tiny with keen, gentle eyes. A part of me is resentful for having to be here at all. I keep looking at the door, knowing Jack is on the other side. If I don’t stay here for the appointed hour, I wonder if he’d cart me off to some remote location out of his own fears.
“Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with Jack?” I don’t hate this woman, but I don’t like her much, either. Even though she’s been nothing but nice, her being Jack’s ex kind of gets to me.
“Edith…,” she chides.
“I only studied the basics of psychology f
or my business degree. Was he any good?” I deflect because it’s what I’m good at. I don’t want to talk about me.
“Jack is a good man and he cares about you. I’m happy you make him happy but, for the sake of argument, let’s tackle the elephant in the room.”
“Miss Pink.”
“What?”
“Pink. We call our elephant Miss Pink.”
“All right, Edith. Miss Pink elephant is looming. Let’s dive in right there.”
“That’s like the deep end of the swimming pool. I can’t swim there yet. I don’t really know you well enough for that,” I tell her, picking at an invisible piece of lint on my jeans.
“Fair enough. Supposing we had a swimming tube and we were wading just up to our toes, where would you like to go?”
