Page 63

She points to a bag on the counter near a sink.

I thank her, giving her a long hug, then wave goodbye to the guys.

As much as I craved the quiet, the loneliness starts to sink in and bites harder than I thought it would.

It took three tries to convince a nurse to remove my IV and let me wash myself.

They wear their heartbreak all over their face like egg yolk; sticky and impossible to remove. It’s starting to make me uncomfortable.

As I finally stand under the stream of hot water in the hospital shower, the only company I keep are the demons that plague me.

I watch as pink tinted water swirls near the drain, fading away.

I don’t get out until the pink is gone and even after that, it’s another century before I’m drying off.

My movements are slow as if I’m on autopilot.

The signal from my brain to my limbs dragging through my body like they’re going on strike.

When I step out of the bathroom, I notice a blonde outside my window. She’s carrying a little boy, with another at her side, talking to a nurse behind the desk. The woman looks familiar and when the nurse points directly at me, she turns, our gazes clashing.

I know her.

It’s the pregnant woman from the church.

Shit, shit, shit!

I back up as she makes her way for my room. My mind reels with questions and fears. What is she doing here? The thought that she’s here to threaten me and Oliver to return crosses my mind. Perhaps they never caught the ringleader and she’s here on his behalf.

Then I remind myself she’s with her children, how much harm is she willing to do with them present? In public, no less.

A knock sounds on the door. My heart pulses inside my throat, nearly choking me.

“Ash?” Her voice is light and feminine without a trace of malice.

I don’t respond even though she knows I’m in here, she saw me behind the window.

“I’m sorry.” She says behind the wood. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

I respond with silence. I can hear one of the children whine and she shushes them.

“I just wanted to come by to make sure you were okay. I mean, I’m sure you’re not, but you’re safe now.”

Slowly, my hand reaches for the handle, curiosity getting the best of me. Face to face, we stand there without a word. I don’t let her in, and she doesn’t try. However, she does let the little boy she’s holding slide down her side to his feet.

“Take your brother over to those chairs for me, please.” She instructs the older one.

He nods like a little soldier, trying to make his mother proud.

“How did you find me.” I ask.

“The police told me... Look, when I saw Ollie down there in that cellar, I couldn’t watch it all over again.

I couldn’t watch them torture him, especially with you.

The second I saw you I knew exactly what you were meant for, what you were brought there to do.

” Her voice is soft and quiet, but a subtle anger simmers underneath her words, her eyes drifting down her belly.

Ollie.

I hate the way she says his name.

“He asked me to look out for you, you know.” She smiles sadly.

“That’s when I knew he didn’t plan on fighting for his life.

I couldn’t let him give up, but I have to be honest.” Her brown eyes glitter as they hold mine.

“It wasn’t all for him. I wanted out too, I was so desperate for freedom, so I risked everything. ”

My lips pinch as I consider her admission. She’s telling me that she saved our lives, but a part of me still clings to this resentment towards her. Like she’s the one at fault for all of it when really, she’s a victim just like me, just like Oliver.

“Did they get him?”

“Who? Father ?” She wonders, her hand instinctively rubbing her stomach.

I nod.

“Yes. They took everyone into custody, even me. I didn’t get to see my boys for over twenty-four hours.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” I bite out, my anger unfiltered.

She flinches.

“You know, I grew up there. I wasn’t like the others. I was born into the church and raised as a devoted follower. I was groomed and well, when I met Ollie, that’s when I realized that the life I lived wasn’t normal. He would tell me all about the outside world, how beautiful it could be. ”

A crack strikes down the shard of ice covering my heart. Her words continue to thaw this brittle hatred I feel toward everything and everyone right now. Though, it doesn’t stop the jealousy gnawing away at me at the sound of Oliver’s name coming out of her mouth.

“Why didn’t you leave with him then?” I questioned.

“How could I? At that time, I was already pregnant with my first child. Father would have hunted me down and slaughtered me. I’ve only seen him do it a dozen times growing up.”

Now I officially feel like an ass.

“I’m sorry.” The apology stumbles out of my mouth uncomfortably.

She shrugs. “Don’t be. I’m just glad I finally had the guts to save myself and my boys. Luckily, it seemed to have saved a few others.”

She offers me a tired smile and that’s when I see the youth she hides with motherhood. She can’t be much older than I am. The thought of having to be responsible for anyone other than myself stirs an anxious cyclone in my belly, my chest squeezing.

Then the question I’ve been trying to bite back comes barreling out of me like an escaped prisoner running for their life.

“Do you love him? Oliver?”

I cringe but wait with my ears wide open. Her face pinkens and gives her away.

“I do, but he loves you. He’s always loved you.

” She chuckles. “I probably know more about you than you think. It was all he could talk about. It was part of the reason I knew that life outside the church could be so beautiful.” She casts a look behind her to her boys who sat giggling next to each other in a set of chairs.

“I have no idea what I’m going to do now.

How I’m going to keep them fed and safe. ”

“Your parents? ”

She shakes her head, “Avid followers. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll see them again, even if they get by without jail time.”

I gnaw my bottom lip, considering her situation for the first time. She’s like a baby penguin left alone after the parents go off to find food for weeks at a time. Either eaten alive or somehow surviving the struggle to defend themselves before they catch their break.

Suddenly, that jealousy that was clawing its way out quells, replaced by a burning sympathy.

I clear my throat, “I might know how to help you.”

After some thorough research on my cell that Sam dropped off, I give her the phone number and address to a women's shelter nearby along with my own contact information. There’s a debt that weighs heavily on me to help her and her boys.

Maybe this was that secret promise we passed along to each other when our eyes briefly met in the church for the first time.

Before she leaves, I thank her for saving our lives, meaning it with all my heart.

Left alone again with nothing but my corrupted thoughts, I decide to find Oliver. The second the nurse behind the desk disappears, I slip outside of my room, roaming down the hallway.

I peak through every window beside the door of each room, trying to find a familiar face.

After the fifth one, the blood in my heart drains.

With a shaky hand, I sneak in to find his eyes closed tight.

His face is barely recognizable, blacks, blues, and purples hiding his skin webbing out from his cheekbone to his eye and the bridge of his nose.

The split on his cheek now closed up, little black threads sticking out holding his skin together.

“Oliver.” My voice cracks, my heart breaking, but he remains still.

I drag a finger over the side of his face that isn’t masked with bruises as I sit at the edge of his hospital bed. His breath is steady, I watch his chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. At the very least, he’s alive.

“Take my life instead.”

His devastating words sink deeply into my chest like fingers ripping through my sternum to get to the organ that now weighs heavier than it used to.

Watching the terror in his eyes, the swollen veins in his neck pulsing with fury, the helplessness eating him alive.

It was torture. Worse than anything those fucks did to me by hand.

I loathed the way they instilled such defeat in him. Fucking. Loathed. It.

The sound of the door cracking open elicits a gasp from me.

Jumping up, I back into the wall, expecting to find Bordeaux’s grotesque face.

Only he’s dead. Just mere minutes ago I washed his blood off of me.

Instead, a petite woman with short, graying hair walks in with eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights.

Though, it’s been many years, I recognize her instantly.

Seems she recognizes me as well but isn’t so pleased to see me.

“Ashton, what are you doing here?” Oliver’s mom hisses.

“I-I was just checking on him. I needed to see if he’s okay.” I answer through quivering lips, fighting a sudden urge to cry.

“Obviously he’s not okay!” She snaps, subconsciously gravitating towards her son.

I flinch, the bitterness in her tone evidently directed at me. She sighs when she finally looks at me, really looks. Her eyes roam over my body, taking note of the light bruising on my face and neck, the worst of it covered by my gown.

“I’m sorry, our family has just been through so much.” Her shoulders sag as her rage quickly fizzles out. “I didn’t even have a single second to process that he was finally home before... before he was gone! He left because of you. For the second time, he’s disappeared because of you .”

Hot, angry tears drip down her aging face. My mouth wobbles, her accusations so true, but no words can describe how sorry I am, how much I long to have never had this happen. Only it did.

“If I had my way, he would have let me be.” I finally whisper.

Her hand flies to her mouth as if she’s shushing her own self and shakes her head, “That’s not what I meant.”