Irresistible Attraction

by W Winters

My body hurtles forward, landing on top of the small woman who’s desperate to cling to the gun. She fires it again as I grip the barrel, forcing it away from me just in time to send the shot wide and feeling the burning hot metal as I rip it from her hands and toss it away. It thuds on the floor as she turns under me, desperate to get it back.

  “Jennifer!” I scream out her name and hear Seth cuss behind me.

  She screams and kicks wildly, fighting like her life depends on it.

  “Stop!” The command is torn from me with equal parts demand and desperation. Seth moves to the side, kicking the gun farther out of reach. “Stop fighting,” I grit out as her heel hits my ribs and she scrambles on the dirt floor.

  The impact to my ribs leaves me seething, the pain rocketing through me as I clench my teeth and hold on to her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Calm down,” Seth demands lowly, and it comes with the faint sound of a gun being cocked. That gives her pause. “I don’t want to hurt you either,” he says calmly.

  Jenny stops moving, stops fighting and her gaze moves to Seth in the darkness. I can barely see him, but I can see the glint of the gun.

  Time moves slowly as I back away from her to stand and while I do, Seth lifts his gun the second she looks at him. He uncocks it. “I didn’t want to do that,” he admits to her, swallowing thickly. “Just calm down. We’re here to help you.”

  It’s only then that I can take a good look at her.

  What’s most alarming is how disoriented Jennifer is. She’s not skin and bones like I thought she’d be. Even through the grime that covers her skin, she has weight to her that lets me know she’s been eating. Her eyes though are dark with lack of sleep and fear drives every half step she takes as she backs away, trying to get away from us, but knowing the wall is behind her.

  With her gaze darting from me, to the gun, to Seth, she crouches down and stares up at us, ready to scream and fight.

  “We’re here to help you.” I keep my voice low as I speak. The ringing in my ears from the gun she just fired has dulled. All I can hear now is her ragged breathing.

  Seth tells her calmly, lowering himself down with both hands in the air, “We’re here to save you.”

  I do the same, raising my hands and letting her know, “We’re not here to hurt you.”

  With wild eyes full of disbelief, she shakes her head, letting us know she doesn’t believe us.

  “I’m not leaving without you,” I tell her and the thin girl shoves her weight against me and her ragged nails scratch down my neck. Seething in the slight pain and more pissed than anything, I snatch her wrists and hold her close. “Calm down.”

  “You’re not taking me,” she screams out. Even held close, she doesn’t stop fighting. It’s useless though. She has to know it, but she doesn’t stop. Kicking out and wriggling to get away, she never lets up. Pressing her against the wall, I’m careful not to hurt her, just to keep her as still as I can until she can calm down.

  “We’re taking you to your sister.” Seth has the common sense to bring up Bethany.

  “Bethany asked us to save you,” I tell her and add, “I told her I’d bring you back.”

  For the second time she stills, but I don’t trust it. “To save me? Bethany?”

  The mere mention of Bethany paralyzes her. With a gasp and then harsh intakes, Jennifer trembles and her body wracks with sobs. She tries to fight it, writhing in my embrace in an effort to cover her cries, but she breaks down instead. No longer fighting us, instead she wars with herself.

  “It’s okay,” I say and rock her, but my eyes move to the gun on the floor and Seth’s quick to take it.

  “Where is she?”

  Keeping my voice soft and soothing, I answer her. “We’ll take you to her.”

  “Right now, okay?” Seth adds sympathetically, the way someone speaks to a lost child. I pull back slightly, giving Jennifer more space and taking my time to release her, still ready to pin her down again if I need to so she doesn’t attack either of us or hurt herself in the process.

  “We’re going now; we’ll take you right to her.” The second I release her fully, her arms wrap around herself. Her sweater, once a light cream color judging by its appearance, is dirtied with brown.

  “The note said it was time,” she murmurs and looks away from us, rocking back and forth.

  “Time for what?” Seth questions and I watch her. Her wide eyes are corrupted with fear and regret.

  “It just said it was time and there was the gun. I thought…” she trails off as the tears come back and the poor girl’s body wracks with a dry heave. She braces herself with both palms on the ground.

  “It’s okay,” I comfort her, rubbing her back and wondering how Bethany is going to react. How she’ll be after seeing her after so long.

  “What happened?” I have to ask. It’s the first time I’m able to look around and the room is the same as the rest. My stomach drops low when she tells me she doesn’t remember everything, but she’s been in this room for as long as she can remember since she’s left.

  “This is where he kept you? Marcus put you in here?”

  “I asked him to,” she admits and her voice cracks. “I just don’t remember why or what happened.”

  “We’ll have a doctor come,” I tell her, petting her hair and noting that it’s clean. It’s been washed recently.

  “Did he touch you?” I ask her, needing to know what Marcus did. It’s the only thought that comes to mind as I stare at the mattress on the floor.

  With her disheveled blonde hair a matted mess down her back, she stares down at herself as if seeing her appearance for the first time. She shakes her head and answers in a tight voice, “He didn’t.” She’s quick to add with a hint of desperation, “I want to see a doctor.” “I need to know that I’m better.”

  “Better?”

  Her dull eyes lift to meet mine and a chill threatens to linger on my skin, the room getting colder every second we stay here. “He said he’d help me get better if I helped him.”

  “What did you have to do?” Seth asks, but I cut her off before she can reply.

  “We need to get out of here. Come with us,” I urge her, feeling a need to get out as quickly as we can. The longer we stay here, the more we talk in Marcus’s territory, the more tangled this problem will get.

  I usher her to the door, reaching out for her, but she’s quick to jump back, smacking her body against the cinder block wall although she doesn’t seem to notice. She yells in the way a child does when they’re scared and they need an excuse to keep them from having to walk down a dark hallway. “Wait.”

  Tears leak from the corners of her eyes and their path leaves a clean line down her mucky skin. “Is Bethany okay?” Her voice cracks and her expression crumbles as she holds herself tighter, but her eyes plead with me, wanting to know that everything’s all right. “Tell me Bethany’s okay… please?”

  Bethany

  To know something is one thing. It’s a piece of a thought, a fact, a quote. It stays in your head and that’s all it will ever be. A nonphysical moment in your mind.

  But to see it – or to see someone – to feel them, smell them, hear them call out your name… There is no replacement for what it does to you. How it changes you. It’s not a piece of knowledge. That’s life. Making new memories and sharing them with others. There is no way to feel more alive than to do just that.

  Than to hold your crying sister, collapsed in your arms as tightly as you can hold her as she cries your name over and over again.

  As I breathe in her hair, the faint smell of dirt clings to her, but so do childhood memories and a desperate need to hold on to her. To never let her go again. In any sense of the word.

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, her breath warm in the crook of my neck as I hug her tighter to me, shaking my head. As if there’s no room for apologies.

  I don’t want to tell her I’d given up. I don’t want to tell her what’s happe
ned. I want to go back. Back to the very beginning and fight for her and never stop. If only time and memories worked like that.

  “Are you okay?” I barely speak the question before a rustling behind her, toward the doorway to the guest bedroom catches my attention.

  Jase is hovering, watching us and I wish he’d come in closer to hear. Jenny needs all the help she can get.

  Jase clears his throat and speaks before Jenny can. “The doctor is on his way. She’s having some minor--”

  “I can’t remember,” my sister cuts Jase off. My gaze moves from his to hers although she won’t look me in the eyes.

  “I know I left, I know where I was, but the days… I don’t remember, Bethy.” Her shoulders hunch as her breathing becomes chaotic. The damage has been done. Whatever that damage may be.

  “Hey, hey.” Keeping my voice as soft and even as I can, I grip her hand and wait for her eyes to meet mine. “It’s okay.” The words are whispered, but they’re true.

  “You’re here now. You’re safe.” Jase’s voice is stronger, more confident and I thank the Lord for that.

  “You remember me, and that’s all that matters,” I say without thinking. Instantly, I regret it.

  “Mom didn’t remember us.” Jenny’s words are lifeless on her tongue.

  Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I watch Jase stalk to the corner of the room and take a seat on the edge of the guest bed. The room is still devoid of anything but simple furniture and curtains. It’s exactly the same as it was when I was first here, only weeks ago.

  It’s only been short of a month, and yet so much has changed in the strongest of ways.

  “You’ll remember the days, or you won’t. But it’s because of what happened to you. Not because of you,” I speak carefully, keeping in mind that Jenny’s scared, and that I need to be strong for her.

  Even though I feel like crumbling beside her.

  Her eyes turn glossy as she sobs, “I’m so sorry I left. I’m sorry I ever left.”

  “I’m here,” is all I can say. Over and over, I pet her hair to calm her and shush her all the while.

  Jase is quiet, but there. If I need him, he’s there. Gratitude is something I’ve never felt to this degree before. My life will be dedicated to making him feel the same.

  A shower calms my sister. Maybe it’s the comfort of the heat, or maybe it’s washing away what she does remember. With both of us in the bathroom, her drying off and getting dressed and me staring at the door so as not to watch, I ask her, “What did Marcus do to you?”

  The fear creeps up and then consumes me. Imagination is an awful thing and I wish I could stop it.

  “I don’t remember everything,” she confesses. “I know I feel…” she trails off to swallow thickly and I prepare for the worst. Picking under my nails and steeling my composure, I ready myself with what to say back, putting all the right words in order to make her feel like she’s all right now, as if there were ever such a combination.

  “I feel healthier. More with it. I haven’t had a… a need to.”

  “To what?”

  “To take a hit.” Her answer comes out tight and I turn to see her staring at me as strength and sorrowful memories are worn on her expression. “I feel better.”

  She breaks our gaze, maybe from the shame of what used to be, I don’t know. I return to looking ahead as she dresses in a pair of my pajama pants and a t-shirt.

  Better.

  My bottom lip wobbles and I can’t help it. I can’t help how tense I feel. Better.

  Of all the things, that’s a word I would never have known would come from her.

  “I don’t know at what cost. The idea of him scares me, even if I don’t remember. I know I changed my mind. I changed the deal.”

  “Even if you don’t remember what someone said or what they did to you, you always remember how they made you feel.”

  The towel drops to the floor as she blurts out, “Marcus scares me, Bethany. He scares the hell out of me.”

  “Do you remember anything that he did?” I ask her again, this time beneath my breath. All she gives me is a shake of her head.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s going to let me walk away though.”

  The conviction in my voice is enough to break the fixation of her fear. “Then he’ll have to fight me to get to you.”

  With her glancing at the knob, I open the door and cool air greets us. It feels colder without her answering me. She heads out first and after looking at Jase, still in the chair, his phone in his hand she apologizes to him.

  “What did you do?” I ask her as Jase tells her it’s all right.

  “I shot him,” she tells me, and I can’t help the huff of a laugh that leaves me, although it’s short and doesn’t carry much humor.

  “What’s so funny?” She stares at me as if I’m crazy.

  “She shot me when she first saw me too,” Jase answers for me.

  Jenny doesn’t answer; she doesn’t respond although she nods in recognition. The bed creaks in protest as she sits on the end of it.

  “Can we have a minute?” I ask Jase. “I just need to talk to her,” I reason with him, but it’s unneeded.

  With a single nod, he moves to leave and I’m quick to close the distance between us and hug him from behind. He’s so much taller and it’s awkward at first, but he turns to face me and I rest my cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent and hugging him tighter. “Thank you,” I whisper and feel the warmth of my air mix with his body heat.

  There’s something about the way he holds me back, his strong hand running soothing circles on my skin while his other arm braces and supports me. I could stand here forever, just holding him. But Jenny needs me.

  I kiss his chest and he kisses my hair before we say goodbye.

  I don’t know what Jenny’s seen or what she thinks as she’s staring out of the window.

  The bed dips as I sit down cross-legged behind her, watching Jenny intently and telling her that I’m here for her.

  “I miss Mom,” is all she says for the longest time. Other than her constant apologies. Sorry for letting me think she was missing and then that she was dead. She didn’t think it would happen like this.

  After every apology, I tell her it’s all right, because truly it is. I only ever wanted her back. This doesn’t happen in real life. You don’t get to wish for your loved ones to come back and then they do.

  “I’m just happy you’re here.” This time when I tell her, I reach my hand forward, palm upturned and she takes it.

  “Me too,” she tries to say, but her words are choked.

  I struggle to find something else to talk about. Something to distract her, to make her feel better. Life has slowed down since she’s left. Slowed down and sped up, a whirlwind of nothing but Jase Cross for me. And I’m not ready to share that story with her yet. It’s too closely tied to me mourning her.

  “Did you read the book?” she asks in the quiet air. Nothing else can be heard but the owls from outside the windows and far off in the forest. They’re relentless as the sky turns dark and the end of winter makes its exit known.

  “I did,” I answer her and before I can tell her what I thought, she speaks.

  “I hated the ending. I’m sorry, I ripped it out.” I almost tell her I know. I almost say the words as she does. “I wanted them to have a happily ever after.”

  My blood turns to ice as the memory of her sobbing on the floor while she ripped out the pages comes back to me. It was only a dream, I remind myself. Only a dream. It didn’t really happen. But yet, the question, the question asking her if she did that is right there, waiting to be spoken.

  A different one creeps out in its place. There was a line I could never forget. “Why did you cross out ‘I hate you for giving me hope?’”

  “It wasn’t me,” she answers me and the chill seeps deeper into my bones. “It was Mom. Mom left it for you. I don’t know why she pulled off the cover, but I hated the ending, so I rippe
d out the pages.”

  Goosebumps don’t appear then vanish, instead they come and stay as I remember the dream. My sister and Mom did always look so alike.

  “When she died there was that stack of books. This one had a post-it on it instead of a cover. She left it for you, but I took it.”

  “Why?” I don’t know how I can speak when as we sit here, all I can see is the woman in my terrors.

  “She said, ‘Only you would understand, Bethany.’ It pissed me off,” my sister admits. “I took it and wanted to read it. I had to know why… why it was always you.”

  The eerie feeling that’s been coming and going comes over me again, clawing for attention and I can barely stand not to react to it.

  Bringing my knees into my chest, I try to avoid it, to shake it off. “What was the ending?” I ask her although I already know. It was some kind of tragedy.

  “She died,” Jenny says and her voice is choked. “That night, their first and only night, she died because she was really sick and there was no way to save her.” My sister’s shoulders heave as she sobs.

  “It’s okay.” I try to reassure her that it’s only a book, but both of us know it’s so much more. It’s the last words our mother left us.

  “Her mother killed herself. The last ten pages is the mother facing Miss Caroline and telling her she hated her for giving her any hope and making her wait longer to end it all.”

  “That’s awful,” I comment.

  Jenny sucks in a deep steadying breath and says, “The book is awful. It’s all about how the ones you love aren’t supposed to die before you.”

  Chills play down my shoulders, like a gentle touch. “What?”

  I hear my mother’s voice. Everyone you love will die before you.

  “That was the point, that the greatest tragedy is watching everyone you love die before you do,” my sister tells me with disgust. “I hate the book. I hate that Mom left it. I hate even more that she said you’d understand. You don’t, do you?” Her eyes beg me to agree with her and I do.

  “I hate it too. Mom wasn’t well.” I use the excuse, but her words keep coming back to me. She thought my life was a tragedy. She hadn’t met Jase though. She couldn’t have known my life would take this turn. “She’s wrong,” I say more to myself than to Jenny, but she nods in agreement.