by J.M. Downey
“You’re only twenty-one and your life has been lived,” she whispered.
Keith walked into the bathroom and ran some fingers across her back. She flinched and turned to him as he took off his black pajama pants and got in the shower.
“Katie, it’s Saturday get in here with me.”
She tapped her fingers on the counter. He had always spoken to her like that, but now it held a different meaning. How could she have been so blind? Was she just too enamored with him to realize how he treated her? Katie slipped off the white nightgown, took her hair out of the bun, and got in the shower. The steam rose up around her, but the heat did nothing to chase away the chill that had filled her. Nothing could get rid of it. He had his back to her, leaning his head on the side as the water poured down onto his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist out of habit. She needed to submit, but every part of her rebelled at the idea.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
Katie picked up her blue sponge that hung on the shower spout, some peppermint-scented soap, and washed his back as she laid her head on his shoulder. Maybe if she just carried out their routines he wouldn’t notice how she had changed.
By the time Keith was ready to get out of the shower, Katie’s fingers had well pruned. She dried off, and put on her bathrobe. After she had started a pot of coffee, letting the hazelnut flavor fill the room, she opened the door, and picked up the paper. She shut the door, and tilted the paper to her face. Her hand flew to her mouth. She sprinted to the bedroom. Keith had just put back on his pajama pants.
He looked up. “What’s wrong?” he said, knitting his brows.
Katie held up the paper. Keith took it from her and closed his eyes, probably reading the headline that had been burned into her mind: Secretary of State Miller Dies in Plane Crash.
“He was such a nice man,” Katie said as tears fell down her face. His wife and children must be crushed.
Keith shook his head and sat on the bed, dropping the paper to the floor.
“Keith.”
“Get out,” he whispered.
She placed a hand on his chest.
“Get out!”
Katie ran out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She sat on the couch and curled her knees to her chest, keeping her eyes fixed on the door, taking deep breaths but her trembling form wouldn’t relax. She shook all over. Moments later, Keith emerged from the room.
He knelt in front of her and glared into her eyes. “I don’t want you to cry for him,” he said.
“Why?”
“Just don’t.”
He sat on the couch next to her, turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found a show he liked. She studied the look in his eyes; a fixed angry look. Why didn’t he cry for a man his family had known for many years? Katie sniffled, but a few tears slipped out. Hadn’t Arther known Miller since graduate school? Surely Keith must have known him as a child. But Keith spoke with such disdain, as if Miller was a murderer who’d met his doom instead of a close acquaintance.
“I’m going to go wash my face,” Katie whispered. He didn’t respond, so Katie slipped off the couch and walked to the bedroom. She closed the door, and picked up the paper. Sitting on the bed, she read the story. An apparent mechanical malfunction was the reason listed for the crash. She opened the paper, and saw another story about a young reporter, who worked for the paper, found dead of an apparent drug overdose. The headline read Paper Mourns One of Its Own. According to the article, the reporter was covering her husband’s case. Maybe Keith had known him. She closed the paper and slid it under the bed. Katie washed her face and returned to Keith.
About two weeks after Secretary Miller’s funeral, a judgment was rendered in the case, the pharmaceutical company had won, but the families were going to appeal.
Keith and Katie returned to New York. She walked into the apartment and flipped on the lights. The blackness shrouded her, as an empty filling seeped into her. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she squeezed tight. She needed some warmth, but the chill clung to her, making her body tremble. How could she return to this place? A place filled with so many dark memories.
Keith walked up to her and enfolded her in his arms. “It’s so nice to be home,” he said.
Her whole body tensed. Images flooded her mind. He had raised a hand to her sister in this room and there was the door he always locked her behind.
Keith kissed her neck.
“It’s nice.” Katie walked from Keith’s arms; his fingers slipped from her waist. She kicked off her sandals as she made her way to the bedroom. She lay on her stomach on the bed and submerged her face into the silk pillow. The musk Keith always wore filled her. The bed creaked with his movements as he sat on it and caressed her legs under her long black skirt.
“I missed the look of your skin on our black sheets.”
“They’re your sheets.”
A smile that clashed with the slight darkness of his eyes, appeared on his face. “No, Katie, they’re our sheets.”
Keith’s hand made its way to her thigh, squeezing; Katie closed her eyes, as he got on top of her and kissed the back of her ear. His sweet possession; no more than a blow-up doll.
“I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “Pretty thing, roll over.”
She took a deep breath and rolled over, and tried to make her eyes gleam by opening them wide. The glare grew in his eyes as his gaze roamed over her face. She must have failed. He shook his head, and kissed her again, letting the kiss deepen. He trailed his lips to her ear and whispered, “Katie, your love is fickle.”
A tear slid down her cheek. He knew she pretended. She caressed his back, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed. A gasp flew from her as she focused on the steel in his eyes.
“No more pretending, just lay there if you must.”
“Keith, I....”
“Be quiet.” He hushed her with his lips.
SIX
Katie’s eyes popped open and she stared at the ceiling as her stomach rumbled. She could gag at this moment. She pressed a hand to her stomach. What was wrong with her? Pushing herself from the bed, she stood and made her way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
She picked up a roll, but her stomach turned with just the thought. She pushed her hand hard against her stomach, but as she listened to the coffee drip into the pot, the aroma of the hazelnut entered her nostrils and something pushed up through her. She covered her mouth, and ran to the bathroom sweeping past Keith. Katie threw open the lid of the toilet, and let everything in her stomach come out. Keith bent down next to her and held her hair back.
When it was all out, she took the cup of water Keith handed her. She sipped the drink, swished her mouth, and spit into the toilet. She placed a hand on her head. “My head is hot, I must have a cold,” she said. Katie went to the guest bedroom and lay down, burying her head into the sheets.
“I’ll call my mom, Katie,” Keith said. “She can come over, so you won’t be alone.” He kissed her on the head. “I’m going to get ready for work.”
She nodded and listened to the sound of his feet as he walked away.
Around nine, Mrs. Wilkerson showed up, and Katie who was still feeling queasy, heard her speak to the maid for a couple minutes. She then walked into the guest bedroom.
“Hello, Katie, how are you feeling?”
Katie rolled over. “I’m fine. I’ve got some stomach virus.”
Mrs. Wilkerson talked to Katie for a while. Around 11 a.m., she left Katie, saying she and Amanda were going to get together. She promised to come over after lunch.
Katie called the maid into the room, and asked her to leave for the day, saying she wanted to be completely alone. When she heard the front door shut, she got out of bed, and stretched, pushing the stiffness from her limbs. She hadn’t taken her morning pill and better get to it since her stomach had settled.
She walked over to the bathroom, in her and
Keith’s room. On the sink, was her bag left unpacked. She picked up the small plastic box, opened it, and reached down for a pill, but as she did her fingers brushed several. Katie looked down. The pill container, she had had for almost a month, had at least two weeks of pills in them. Her breath fled from her as the pills fell out of her hand and onto the floor. The turmoil of her life had made the pills slip from her mind and now....
She covered her mouth as a scream escaped her. Dear God, please let it not be. Please.
A week later, Katie sat a bag of pads on the bathroom counter, her usual signal to Keith to leave her alone. Why bother? No period was going to show up, but at least she could buy some time. When she had to tell him, she would say she had implantation bleeding and didn’t realize she was pregnant.
She washed her face in the sink, but the redness still clung to the skin under her eyes. How long could she hold him off? She bit her lip. There was an abortion clinic not too far from here. He would never know. Her fingers dug into the palms of her hands. No, he would find out. Somehow he would and then he would.... Only God knew what he would do if he found out she’d killed his child.
She sat on the couch and watched the minutes tick by. Keith came home around 7 p.m.. He smiled and then made his way to the bedroom, returning a couple minutes later.
He sat on the couch next to her and smiled. “I was kind of hoping for a baby,” he said.
“I was too.”
Keith caressed her cheek. “Perhaps, we should start trying.”
“Perhaps.”
Katie tapped on the door. Ashley should be home alone, since Amanda was out with her mother. The door opened and Ashley peeked out, smiling although her eyes wavered. “Hey, Katie.”
Katie brushed past her.
“I’m alone,” Ashley said.
Katie reached into the paper bag that she had brought with her, and pulled out a pregnancy test.
“Oh no.” Ashley walked up to Katie. “Oh, Katie.” She placed a hand over her mouth.
“I know I am. I just can’t believe it.” A couple tears fell down Katie’s cheek. Ashley took her hand and led her into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, Katie held up the stick and focused on the pink yes glaring back at her. She placed the stick down, and sat on the bathtub. There was no way to deny it any longer. She placed a hand on her stomach. What was the life like growing inside her? Would it be like him? She shuddered. “What am I going to do?”
“Does he have any suspicions?”
Katie shook her head. “I can’t have his child.” Her voice choked up as a warm tear trickled down her cheek.
“It’ll be yours, also.”
“No, it will be all his, especially if it’s a son. I would have no say in the raising of this child.”
Ashley sat next to Katie and wrapped an arm around her waist. A soothing sense of comfort wrapped around her, but it couldn’t push away the rattling that grew stronger every day. At some point, she imagined the shaking would kill her as it made every bit of her will to live seep from her.
“I want to leave him,” Katie said.
“You can’t.”
Katie looked at her friend, focusing on the emerald eyes. “Why do you say that?”
Ashley took a deep breath and squeezed her hands together. “I wasn’t born at the time, but my mother, before she died, told me that Mrs. Wilkerson ran off once. She was pregnant with Keith, and Mr. Wilkerson dragged her back. She wasn’t the same ever since. No one knows what he did to her. But there are rumors he slit her mother’s throat in front of her.”
Katie gasped; her hands flew to her mouth. Her mother. But Keith wouldn’t be that much of a monster. Would he? Tears poured down Katie’s face as she buried it into her hands. With deep remorse, she realized the truth of the Biblical command to marry within one’s own faith. This was all her fault. All of it. Lord help me, please. I’m so sorry. Get me out of this. Even if it was through her death, she wouldn’t mind. Heaven would be so much better than the Hell she had created for herself. She wiped a tear from her face. But she had no faith God would help her since she had thrown her fist in his face and ignored every warning, every Biblical truth, and now his anger on her was swift.
SEVEN
Keith sat at his desk, filling out documents that listed assets, fudging details to make the company look more profitable than it was. He looked at the clock. Almost 10. Soon he would be home, and he would pull Katie into his arms and cherish the sweet strawberry smell of her hair. As he signed his father’s name to the document, he thought of buying Katie some tulips since he hadn’t bought her any in a while. Hopefully, they’d put a smile on her face. It had been so long since he’d seen one. Something nudged in him - a feeling akin to regret, but he pushed it away. If he got distracted, he wouldn’t be able to accomplish what his father demanded of him. And nothing was more distracting than guilt.
The door flew open. Sullivan rushed from behind it. A chill swept over Keith as he took in the black gun in the assassin’s hand. What was going on? The man looked like a rage boiled in his eyes.
“Code 50. Let’s go.”
He jumped to his feet - his body stiffened. “Katie.”
“The apartment is being watched. Now, let’s go.”
“We have to….”
“We’ll get her,” Sullivan said, grabbing Keith’s arm and yanking him to the door. A pain shot up his arm. He raced after the black-clad man while his blood pulsed at a rapid speed. If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. He had brought her into this life. And it was his responsibility to keep her safe.
“Little one,” Katie whispered, trying to find a connection to the child she carried. Would she be able to love him? Tears brimmed in her eyes. Shelly had broken down crying when she told her the news - very few people would welcome this child’s birth, especially its own mother. She caressed her belly. If she could only feel the life growing under her heart? Maybe then she would cherish God’s gift.
The door flew open, making her flinch. Keith rushed in with another man she didn’t know. He slammed the door shut, and ran towards her as the shaking feeling poured through her. What was going on? Keith grabbed her arms and yanked her from the couch, making her crash against his chest as he wrapped her in his arms.
“Get dressed.” His eyes were dark, unsettled.
She looked at the man in complete black. “Katie, don’t look at him!”
The man took a phone from his pocket. He looked at it before he said, “they’re here.” The man grabbed a black gun from his coat, and lowered a pair of goggles.
“They’re here?” Keith asked. His eyes wavered as the color drained from his face.
Who was here? What was going on? She gripped Keith’s shoulders, digging her nails into his jacket.
“Lock yourselves in the bathroom,” the man said as he walked to the light switch and flicked it off.
Keith dragged her into the bedroom’s bathroom, leaving her there. She stared at the door, clenching the sides of her nightgown. Her whole body shook. What could be going on? Had God finally decided to be done with them? Her hands flew to her womb. God please be merciful. Please give me a chance to change - to be better.
The door opened, making her stumble back. Keith slipped in with the pistol, he kept in the nightstand. He locked them in, and pulled Katie as close to him as he could. The pistol rested against her back as she clung to her husband, burying her face into his chest. The darkness hid everything. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Keith,” she cried.
He wrapped one hand around her head and covered her mouth. Voices broke the silence that existed outside the bathroom. A man’s voice said, “they’re not here.”
Another voice said, “the papers are.”
Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor. A thump broke the silence. Katie jumped. Keith gripped her close. Another man yelled something out, but a thump covered his voice. H
er whole body shook so fast that not even Keith’s firm grip on her could stop it. He whispered into her ear, but she couldn’t concentrate on what he said. A few minutes later, the darkness lifted a little as the light to their bedroom turned on. Someone knocked on the door. Katie dug her fingers into Keith’s coat.
“It’s done,” the man said.
Keith pulled from Katie, even though she clenched onto him. “Stay here,” he said. Keith opened the door, and walked out. Locking her in.
Keith followed Sullivan to the living room, and spotted the two bodies covered in blood. He bent down and lifted one of the masks, studying the face in front of him, grim in his death. The silencer had kept them from hearing the bullets being propelled towards them and they had died, with no chance of fighting back. The Wilkerson way.
“I guess this was supposed to be payback for Miller,” he said.
“We’ll take care of the bodies.”
“Is this all of them?”
“The rest were cleared out earlier.”
Sullivan filled a needle with a clear liquid from a small glass bottle.
“What are you doing?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, furrowing his brows.
“She can’t remember this.”
“I don’t want Katie drugged with that vile thing.” He had no idea what it would do to her. They only used it on their enemies.
Sullivan lowered the needle. “Tell your father that.”
Keith sucked in his breath. That was something he could never do. “Okay.”
He turned for his bedroom and walked straight to the bathroom. He opened the door. Katie sat on the toilet with her knees bent to her chest. No trace of innocence remained in her eyes, but now a fog. That fog had been there for a while. “Come here,” he said.
