Rage

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Kieran

I startle awake to the sound of the door closing, only to fall back down into my pillows, grabbing my head. I have a fucking migraine. He won't get away with this, I vow to myself. No matter how much I liked it when he snuck into my room and fucked me before, I don’t want this .

I crawl out of bed, shoving a pillow under the blanket and bunching it up some,to fool him into thinking I'm peacefully sleeping. I grab the top sheet off the bed and try to rip a strip off. I struggle for a few minutes before saying ‘fuck it’ and deciding I’m not gonna be able to do that. Searching the room, I don’t see anything I can use against him until I spot the towel rod on the wall of the bathroom.

“Perfect!” I whisper to myself.

It wiggles some but seems sturdy, so I grip it tighter and pull harder until it snaps off the wall. Now it’s just a waiting game.

I stand by the bedroom door, rod in hand, for what feels like forever. When I’m just about to say fuck it and try this another day, the door opens. He steps through the door, eyes locked directly on the bed. He takes one more step and I strike. I hit him right on his temple with the rod, and he drops to the floor instantly. Smiling triumphantly, I search his pockets for the keys to the rooms.

Fuck yeah!

I search his pocket, taking the keys, as well as a pocket knife and his gun. I set the gun on the dresser and grab the knife. I grab the sheet from the floor and cut two long strips. I try to move him and fail miserably. So, I do the next best thing–walk out of my room to search for Noah.

I try the doors across the hallway first. When I try the door next to mine, it opens and I see Noah sitting on his bed. His eyes flick to the door before he looks back down. I stand there for a second smirking as his eyes shoot up again and he jumps from the bed.

“Kieran, how? What are you doing?” he says in one breath.

“I need your help. Follow me.”

I go back to the room directly across from mine and grab the chair I saw when I was looking for Noah, dragging it back to my room.

“Noah, can you help me get him into the chair?”

“I’m on it.” Together, we get our captor in the chair and tied up in no time. I walk to my bathroom and fill a cup up with cold water, then I throw it on him.

He gasps awake and struggles in the chair, trying to get free. His eyes find mine and they light up with fury. He’s pissed.

Well you know what I’m pissed too!

Might as well add insult to injury. “I don’t want it.”

“Don’t want what?” he questions, eyes on Noah now.

“The baby,” I answer. “I don’t want the baby.”

He turns his head towards me slowly and his eyes lock onto mine.

“Do you know what your name means in Irish?” he asks, completely switching the topic, giving me whiplash.

“No,” I say hesitantly.

“It means ‘little dark one’ and I think that fits you.”

“Why?”

“Because you have some darkness inside you,” he answers. “Your darkness calls to mine, just like our darkness craves Noah’s light. We need each other to feel whole.”

I stare at the man tied to the chair with furrowed brows, seeing the shadows swirling in his eyes, the darkness he was talking about. “I don’t want to have this baby,” I blurt out again.

A dark look crosses over his face. “I don’t care.”

“It’s MY body, it’s MY choice!” I scream at him.

“See sweetheart, that’s where you’re wrong,” he replies with a sardonic laugh. “It may be your body, but it’s MY choice, and I’ve decided you’re keeping the baby.”

I let out a growl. “How can you sit there and force a pregnancy on me and take away all my choices?”

“Because, sweetheart, I can,” he answers with a cruel smile.

“I’ll just leave, and take care of it on my own.”

“I’ll find you, Kieran. Anywhere you go, I will find you,” he promises.

“You have to understand.”

“Understand what?” he snaps.

“This baby, you love them already, right?” I ask, pleading with him.

“Yes,” he answers. “I’ll do anything I can to protect them, even if it’s from you.”

“How would you feel if the baby’s a girl and someone did this to her?” I question with an urgency I hope he picks up on.

He stares at me with an unreadable expression. “I’d kill them.”

“Would you honestly think it’s her body, but it’s someone else’s choice what she does with her body?” I ask, with a pointed look.

“No, I’d want her to make the choice for herself,” he admits, his eyes falling to the floor.

“Do you see how hypocritical you sound? You want the baby if she’s a girl to decide for herself, but you won’t grant me the same respect. As a woman I need to have the right to decide what to do with my body. We fought so hard for our rights, and for them to be taken from us… it feels like a huge loss in the progress we’ve made.”

“But what about me? What about what I want?” He says.

“We can have that conversation, but when I told you how I felt you just shut me down, no conversation or anything. YOU decided. Not US. WE need to decide together. You already took the choice of if I wanted a kid in the first place. You can’t take this choice from me too.” I let out a helpless sob, wondering if my breath was wasted on trying to explain why this was so important.

“Okay,” he sighs.

“Okay?” I question, hopefully.

I release a heavy sigh, It feels like a weight was lifted from my shoulders.

“Me, you and Noah can talk about this.”

My stomach does a little flip because he wants to include Noah in the decision. Now I need to make him understand why I can’t have this baby. That’s the hardest part. I hate talking about my past, even Noah only knows a very small part. Now I’m gonna have to come clean and tell him everything.

“Do you know anything about my history?” I question. My stomach roils with tension–I don’t want to have this conversation, and I’m furious that he’s making me dig up old, unhappy memories.

“Some,” he answers. “I know you lived in foster care from ten until you aged out at eighteen. You bounced around from home to home, never staying longer than a year,” he says. “And I know your parents had a terrible marriage, at least until your mother killed your father then took her own life.”

Yeah, years of abuse will make you wish you were dead, I think bitterly.

“So you see why I can’t have a baby now?” I answer sadly.

“No, I don’t,” he replies. “Just because you were raised like that, doesn’t mean you’ll be a shitty parent.”

I stare at him with my mouth agape and eyes wide. He doesn’t understand the trauma of having to watch your mother kill your abusive father then herself. My eyes drop to the floor and I hear a crash. When I look back up, I see the chair he was sitting on in pieces on the floor and he’s climbing to his feet.

“You two will not see each other for a while,” he says.

“Carl,” I call out.

“That’s not my name,” he snaps.

“What? That’s the name from your name tag,” I say slowly.

“I stole the uniform from the one who was gonna deliver your pizza,” he admits, like it’s perfectly normal to steal clothes from someone and act like a delivery driver. This man is deranged.

“So, what is your name then?”

“You can just call me Sin,” he replies, grabbing Noah’s arm and walking out of the room, leaving me to think about everything we talked about.