Page 42 of A Taste Of Truth
Standing, I turn and look out the window. There’s nothing out there but more snow, harsh winds, and the moon climbing. Something steels inside me, as I stare. It builds, bringing a sense of singularity with it. Fuck two. I need one. Me. Alone. What I want and need. I don’t know what anyone thinks I can do with a guy his size who seems hell bent on finishing his life.
I open the door and stride out into the room, ignoring the sheets doused with blood. Not my problem, and there’s no way in hell I’m changing them either. I’m not a mother here, not a big sister either. I don’t need to look after anyone but myself.
“What the fuck is it that you want?” I spit, turning into the main lounge area to find him. He’s not here that I can see, so I poke my head out into the hallway. Not there either. And so now he’s what? Disappeared?
I scrub my hands over my eyes, perhaps questioning how real any of this is or has been and hoping I might wake up from a dream any minute. Not going to happen.
I wander to the windows, shrugging his robe tighter around me, and search for him out there in the low light from the moon. Nothing. No visions of him, no noise other than the wind, and no clear view further than twenty feet out. My ass dumps down on a chair, eyes still cast out into the gloom. If he’s not here he’s got to be out there, so I sit and wait, maybe contemplating a bath, or a bottle of wine from that drinks tray, or maybe sleep.
I haven’t done much of that yet, no matter how long he slept.
How long was that?
I’m beginning to discuss the time, or day, or even month with myself when he eventually walks in. I sit quietly and contemplate everything now he’s in front of me again. Dressed now. Jeans, boots. He looks just like he did when he walked in the bar that day. Just as fucking handsome, which is annoying considering I’m discussing leaving with myself.
“Up, little Alice. Come.”
“Come where?”
He doesn’t answer. He cocks his head to the side, as if questioning why I’m questioning anything. I get that, I do, but just because he’s all prime male and looking fucking glorious, I’m not just going to do every damn thing he says.
He scowls, moves closer. “Take the hand, Alice.”
“No. Not until we talk about -“
The speed of him moving at me makes me shriek and clamber backwards, tipping off the chair in the process. I land hard and feel him grab hold of my arm, dragging me. I spit and curse the entire time, damn sure I’m not making anything easy for him. It doesn’t make a blind bit of difference, and I eventually feel my body weight tossed towards the bed as if feather light.
I spin, pant, get my nails ready to defend myself if I have to, and scramble back to the headboard. “NO!” I shout, as much venom as I can muster. “Back the fuck off.”
He snorts and moves closer, rounding the side of the bed to get to me. His hand reaches for my wrist, enough force in the move that I’m almost flipped with it. The robe gets yanked off me and discarded, and the only thing remaining of it is the belt that was around my waist in his hold.
He looks at the material in his hand, and then back at me.
“Easy or hard, little Alice? I need some of your memories.”
I inch back softly, recognising the look on his face. “What?” There isn’t any escaping what’s coming, and if I could remember how I found that zone I was in last time, I’d get back in it. But I can’t, and I’m not there now after the blood and the fear.
Where’s my knife when I need it? “Malachi don’t. I’m not-“
Quick movements seem to blind me, and before I know it I’m on my front with my face stuffed in the pillows. My eyes flicker open and shut, body trying to struggle as he does whatever he wants to get me into position. Red smears in my vision from his wrists, the white sheets stark against the blood stains. I gasp and howl out in pain, as my arms are wrenched too tightly.
“Please, Malachi.”
Please doesn’t seem to matter to him, nor does the sound of my continued wails of agony. He’s harder than he’s ever been. For no reason. I gulp as I’m pulled down to the floor and dragged across it until I’m in the corner of the room. My legs come up instantly, perhaps hoping to shrink into me somehow. They can’t. I’m just here, a quivering wreck stuffed into the corner of a room and waiting.
I tuck my head into the wall, eyes refusing to open. What good would it do for me to look at him? None. All I’ll see is a man who I don’t know, one who could be just about ready to hurt me past what he already has done. Normal or not, this is not a version of him I understand. And I warned him – I did. I told him I’d find a way to kill him if he did this to me again.
“I don’t want you like this,” I mutter. “I don’t know this. I warned you.”
It’s only another few minutes of quiet before I feel something touch my lips. I shirk away from it instantly, attempting to lodge myself closer into this corner. It doesn’t work, and I’m being handled like a dog quickly. His thumb presses into the corner of my mouth, wrenching my jaw open until lots of pills land on my tongue, and then he’s covering my mouth and nose.
I struggle, whimper, curse all sorts of retaliations at him in my mind, but nothing stops the need to swallow, and eventually the pill tumbles down my throat.
“Why,” I mumble, as I crawl closer to the wall.
“Because I need you to remember. Show me.” He stares at me, runs his fingers over my cheek, and then pulls something from his neck. The gold chain and ball hangs in his hand, and he starts swinging it back and forth. I don’t know why, but I can’t help but follow the swing. Back and forth, forth and back. It’s never-ending. Over and over. “Did you save me, Alice?” Save him? I don’t know. “I’ll protect you. Trust. Honesty.” It’s just his face and his eyes and those dark circles that begin flickering with light. Bright lights.
White.