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Eden

I had no way of gauging how long I stayed in the bathroom, but it can’t have been more than five minutes before he banged on the door again.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I’m clean, like you said.”

“Then make some noise. Sing.”

I paced the floor. If I picked the wrong song, he’d come in to punish me for it.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Something I like.”

I bit my lip. It was a statement designed to make me fail. I sang the opening lines to ‘Feel Something’ by Pink. When he didn’t burst through the door, I continued, moving closer to the shower.

When I finished that song, I started another … and another … and another … He remained on the other side of the door, quiet. I hoped that if I carried on singing, he’d stay right where he was.

It was around song nine or ten when he finally banged on the door again. “You should be done by now. Get your ass out here.”

“Just a minute.” I ducked my head beneath the spray to wet my hair, then twisted it into a knot on top of my head, tossed a towel into the tub, letting it get wet, then opened the door.

He glared at me.

“Why the fuck are you wearing those clothes again?”

“They’re all I have.”

“I never told you to get dressed.” He dragged me out by my arm.

“I thought if any of the police officers who were with you at the house came to check, you wouldn’t want me to be naked.”

An expression flashed across his face, gone before I could decipher it, but he nodded. “Sit down.”

I let out a quiet breath and sat on the edge of the chair.

“When we get back to New York, we’re going to get married, and you are going to apologize to my parents for all the stress you’ve put them under. They were scared someone had murdered you.” His lips twisted. “It would have been easier if that had happened, but no, you have to get yourself caught on camera with another man.” He stalked around the room, waving his hands. “And now I have to come out here and get you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not yet, you’re not. But you will be.” He advanced on me.

“Shouldn’t we go to the police station before they come searching for us?”

He stopped, head tilting then one corner of his mouth curled up. “I know what you’re doing.”

I stayed silent.

“You think they’ll believe your lies about not wanting to be with me. But you’re wrong. I’ve already explained how stupid you are, how you need me to keep you safe. Why do you think they let me come and get you, stupid girl? They think the idiot whose house you were hiding in is the one who’s a danger to you. And that’s exactly what you’re going to tell them before we leave.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s what you’ll do.”

And that was the moment I realized that Chester wasn’t just a man who liked to hurt women. He wasn’t completely sane. Had he ever been sane?

“I will. I promise. But you need to tell me what I need to say, so they aren’t confused.”

Keep him talking. If he’s talking, he won’t do anything else. Someone would come searching. If Bishop was allowed to make a call, he’d speak to his brother or his friend, Deacon. Someone would eventually ask why we weren’t at the police station. I just had to keep him talking until then.

I slipped one hand into my jacket pocket and let my fingers curl around the cold heavy weight of the gun Bishop must have put there. I couldn’t let Chester know I had it. He was bigger and stronger and would take it from me. But its solid presence gave me hope.

Hope that Bishop would convince the police officers that he had done nothing wrong.

Hope that they would release him.

Hope that he would find me.

***

What time was it?

I couldn’t tell. Chester had the curtains firmly closed, which made it hard to keep track of time. But I knew it had been almost one am when the police came to the house, and at least a couple of hours must have passed.

Every time Chester stopped ranting and came toward me, I reminded him about the police and how they knew I was with him and were expecting us to go to the station. It had distracted him so far, but awareness that it was only a matter of time before it stopped working was a constant thought in my head.

I had to think of something else. My head ached, my eyes were gritty and tired, and my throat was sore from the constant talking.

My fingers gripped the gun in my pocket. A lifeline, a talisman. If I kept hold of it; If I didn’t let it go, Bishop would come. He’d find me.

A heavy thud sounded against the door. My head jerked up just as Chester spun toward it.

“Fuck.” A deep, slurred voice growled. “Fuckin’ key. Where’s my key?” Another thud.

Chester pointed a finger at me. “Don’t say a fucking word. Don’t move. Don’t even fucking breathe.”

I nodded. “I promise.”

He strode to the door, made sure the safety chain was on, then opened it slightly.

“What do you want?”

There was a short silence. “Why the fuck are you in my room?”

“This isn’t your room.”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.” Another thud sounded, and the door jolted back, the chain snapping taut. “Get the fuck out. I paid for this room.”

“You’re drunk, asshole. Get the fuck out of here.” Chester started to close the door.

“Yeah, no.” The next hit to the door was so hard it snapped the chain. The force of it sent Chester back a step, and the door banged off the wall and started to swing closed. Before it did, a figure slipped through.

“Get the fuck out!” Chester surged forward.

“Sorry, I can’t do that.” The slur dropped from the newcomer’s voice, and his head turned briefly toward me. “Hey, Eden.”

My lips parted.

Deacon was here.