CHAPTER 25
When we reach our destination, I realize it’s some crappy, run down house in the middle of nowhere. It’s on the outskirts of the town. I wonder how the heck he found it. He must have planned this for a while.
“Get in!” he shoves me inside.
The house looks even more dilapidated on the inside. A few rats scurry in the corner, disappearing into a hole in the wall. The floor is filled with beer cans, old, yellow-stained newspapers, and there’s even a disgusting old mattress in the corner. Just the sight of it makes me sick. A few junkies died on it probably. Who knows what kind of diseases it has?
“Sit over there,” he instructs me, pointing at a wooden chair in the center of the room.
I look around. The windows are all there, expect for one. No glass on that one. A few even have blinds on, which I doubt could be pulled up. This whole place reeks of death and despair. Right now, I’m just praying that I don’t die in a place like this. Anywhere but here.
I do as I’m told. I sit on the chair, not taking my eyes off the gun he has pointed at me. It’s almost laughable. As if he ever needed a gun to hurt me, to make me do whatever he wanted. Another thought occurs to me. Maybe he knows he needs more now. I’m not the weak, fragile little thing I was before. He can’t take me down with just a clenched fist. Sure, he can hurt me, but he can never break my spirit. Not ever again.
I watch him as he moves around me, tying me up. The ropes dig into my flesh, but I don’t say anything. The chair underneath me is slightly wobbly. Maybe luck would serve me and it’ll be flimsy, too. I might try it, if I see an opportunity to escape. But, if I don’t make it, I’m done for. I know that. He didn’t bring me here to discuss parental rights and joint custody. He came here to finish what he started. Just like he promised.
As soon as he’s sure that I’m securely tied up, he places his gun onto a small cardboard box, which I’m guessing served as a coffee table, nightstand, whatever. He buries his face into his hands, and only now, in clear light do I see him well.
He hasn’t changed. Well, not much. He’s still got that rugged, bad boy look that used to get all the women hot and wet. He loved pointing that out. That, if I didn’t take good care of myself, he’d easily find someone who would. He deserved a good woman. A sexy woman. A lady in the streets. A whore in the sheets. He used to say that a lot.
His beard’s grown a little. It also looks like he’s lost some weight. Still, he looks good. Fucking good for a sadist.
“So, are you gonna tell me now what you want from me?” I take the chance to start the conversation.
Fear has nestled deep inside my heart, my mind, my veins. It is filling up my entire body, but I’m still not allowing it to fully take over. A small part of myself is still reasonable, still logical. I need to buy some time. Maybe the guys will find me. It’s a long shot, but I’m still holding onto hope. Fear won’t break me. This asshole might, but it won’t be the fear I’ve created of him.
He lifts his gaze from his palms, and looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. I’ve never spoken this way to him. It was always yes, dear. Just different versions of agreement. Because, a good woman always agrees with her man. Even when he’s wrong. And, she takes damn good care she doesn’t point that out when it happens.
I swallow heavily, enduring his gaze. I feel like I could melt into a puddle and just disappear, but I hold on. I don’t look away.
“Are you scared of me?” he suddenly asks me something that he hasn’t asked once, in all this time.
At first, I’m not sure what to answer. Should I tell him the truth? I’m fucking petrified. I’m shaking. I might piss my pants any moment, but my bladder is still under control. So far. I’m wondering how come he doesn’t see that?
He walks over to me and places his hand on my cheek. He feels cold. My cheek is burning. It’s like throwing a hot coal into an icy lake. I don’t flinch. He was usually kind only while he was apologetic for what he’d done, or when he was about to explode. I guess this is a combination of both.
“I am,” I finally say, opting for the truth.
“I know I haven’t treated you well some of the time…”
Some of the time!? I want to scream in his face that I can’t believe how deluded someone can be, but I keep my mouth shut. I keep reminding myself. I need to buy time. Not antagonize him. Just keep him talking. Conversing.
“But, you have to admit, you were being a bitch to me,” he continues. I have to bite my lip again. I look down. He probably takes it as remorse. So, he goes on. “I think it’s safe to say we both made mistakes. You acted badly, so I reacted badly. But, that can all be changed.”
Suddenly, he kneels down in front of me. He’s not drunk anymore, but there’s still that whiff of alcohol on his breath. I smell it now more than before, with him so close to me, his lips almost touching mine.
“All you have to do is tell me you’re still my baby girl,” he whispers.
He says it in a way he used to say it before. When we made love, it could never be referred to that. He liked it rough. Rougher than I ever imagined sex could be. And, it was always baby girl when something hurt more than it should have.
I feel my lip numb from all the times I bit on it, in an effort to prevent myself from saying something stupid, which might make him explode. I don’t say anything. I keep looking at my feet, bound to the chair legs. I wonder if the legs would break if I jump backwards and land on the chair? But, not with him so close.
“I know it’s hard to forgive me,” he tells me. “But, I’ve already forgiven you. You should try it.”
The more he talks, the more I want to scream at him. It’s getting harder to resist the urge to blow up in his face. Then, face the wrath of the consequences.
“There is nothing to forgive,” I hear myself say. He smiles at my words. His hands rest on my knees, squeezing them softly. “Because, what you’ve done is unforgivable.”
I watch as the smile drains from his face. He pulls away. His face scrunches up, his eyebrows furrow. He takes a walk around the room, like a caged tiger. If I’m going to die here, so be it. But, I won’t die telling this poor excuse of a human being that I forgive him.
“You shouldn’t talk like that,” he warns me, still calm.
“What? You want me to tell you I love you, that I love every bruise you left me with, every broken bone, every scar that will never heal? Is that what you want me to tell you?”
“Those were nothing, just minor scrapes. You had to go all drama queen and claim I abused you. You sent me to fucking prison, Danica!” He is slowly raising his voice now. He approaches me, kneels down before me again, but I know there won’t be any petting. His hands are already clenching. I’ve learned to recognize the signs. “Do you know what they do to guys like me there? Do you!?”
His voice echoes all around us. Here he is. The real Russel. The one I’ve been fearing. The one I’ve been waiting for.
“But, I forgave you. I fucking forgave you, Danica, because we are a family, we can still rebuild our life together. You just have to stop being such a stuck up bitch!”
He suddenly turns to the wall and punches a hole in it. I hear him breathing heavily, wheezing. Memories flood me, and adrenaline surges through my blood. A forgotten sensation that the mind tried to bury, but it can never be done. His fist is bleeding. But, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t feel it. He is too enraged. Adrenaline is hitting him hard, too. Only it affects us both differently.
“And, you took my boy away from me. You took him away from his father. And, I still fucking forgave you!”
“I took a boy away from a father who would get drunk and try to hurt him,” I explain something that I’ve explained so many times, that it lost any real meaning. It’s like talking to a brick wall.
“That’s all… that’s all going to change,” he falls down to his knees again, his palms in the air, reaching for me, cupping my face. “You just have to say so.”
I look at him and I wonder, how could someone be so stupid? This man has betrayed my affections more than a million times. He is the one responsible for the shattered disarray of my heart. He has stolen so many parts of me that I doubted I would ever be a whole person again. However, slowly, I’ve regained the pieces that were taken from me. Little by little, and no thanks to him. Now, he’s back for more. As he always would be, coming back for more. And no matter how much you give, how much he steals from you, it’ll never be enough. Some people are just like that. Some people just have an icy heart. They are incapable of loving anyone but themselves. Unworthy of someone’s love, they can never return what someone shares with them. They are simply unable to. He has left ashes in my heart. He enjoyed the fire, the flames. And now, he wants to stomp and dance in the ashes, too. Blow them away in the wind, until there is nothing left of me, but a broken shell of a woman that could have been happy, if she had never met him.
But, I have. I lit that match that destroyed me. Now, I’m the one responsible for keeping the ashes safe, and rising out of them like a Phoenix, reborn. I owe that to myself. I owe that to Dominick. I owe that to the three men who have accepted me as I am, broken and imperfect.
“You know I’ll never say that,” I tell him. “Otherwise you wouldn’t keep me bound here, in the middle of nowhere. You know you’re a piece of shit, and people like you never change. I’ll make sure Dominick forgets all about you, and once I get out of here, I’ll make sure you rot in prison for as many years as I can pin on you!” I blurt out all those things in one go, spewing out all the poison he has planted inside of me during the previous years, finally ridding myself of it.
“It’s not smart to talk like that,” he hisses.
“So, what? You’re going to beat the crap out of me? Can’t you be a little more original than that?”
I have no idea where all this is coming from. These words are just flowing out of my mouth, like a strange, wild force has overtaken my mind and it’s finally saying all the things I should have said, ages ago. Better late than never, I guess.
He clenches his fist at me, as if he’s going to hit me. I close my eyes, waiting for the searing pain to spread through my body. A few moments pass, and nothing happens. I open my eyes and see him smiling.
“You thought I’d hit you?” he chuckles. “I won’t do that. I’m better than that. I’ll hit you where it really hurts.” he elongates that sound, making him all serpentine like.
“What are you talking about?” That icy cold claw of fear taps me on the shoulder again. It’s back. Maybe, it never really went away, it just hid, ready to come out when needed again.
“Dominick,” he replies menacingly.
“I won’t let you hurt him!” I scream at him, like a rabid dog, baring my teeth.
“Who says I’ll hurt him?” that grin is still on his face, and I want to rip it off of him. “I’ll take him away from you. It doesn’t look like you’re doing a good job of providing for him, keeping him on the right track. He’s not doing well at school. He’s acting out. It must be those biker drug dealers he hangs out with.”
These words shock me to my very core. He’s been here all this time. He did send that letter. It was all him. I was never paranoid. I just felt his presence.
“No judge would ever take a child away from his mother and give him to a father who just got out of prison on assault and family battering charges,” I scoff, sure of myself.
“A good lawyer can make miracles happen,” he winks at me, all the malice in his voice taking a frightening, tangible form. “All you need to do is grease the wheels a little, if you know what I mean. I got money, Danny. And, from what I hear, you got shit. So, while I can afford a fancy lawyer who’s gonna take you for all you’ve got, you’ll get some crackhead shaking for his next fix.”
The more I think about it, the more I know he might be right. Justice doesn’t care about right or wrong. It has no morals. It leans towards whoever offers more towards their side. And, in that kind of game, I wouldn’t win. I don’t have two cents to my name. Whatever Russ has, he’s obtained it after I left him, and probably through illegal means. Still, that gives him leverage.
“You’re starting to realize I’m right, admit it,” he scoffs, standing right in front of me, with his hands resting cockily on his hips. The stance of authority.
“They’ll lock you up as soon as I get out of here. I’ll press kidnapping and assault charges on you so fast your head will spin,” I spit at him venomously.
“That is, if you get out of here, darling,” he corrects me softly, almost lovingly, and his voice makes the little hairs on my back stand on end. “I’ve offered you a way out. And, a pretty reasonable one. We get back together and be one big happy family again. That’s your first option. Your second option isn’t nearly as nice.”
I swallow heavily. I know what he’s hinting at. He won’t have any guilt trips over killing and hiding my body somewhere in the woods, where animals will get to me before any people ever do. The thought of being buried in the woods makes me feel even weaker. If by some miracle I do manage to free myself from these restraints, I doubt I’d be standing on my own two feet. I feel too weak. Too frightened.
I glance around for something, anything that might rekindle my hopes. But, I see nothing. Just the man in front of me whose presence threatens my very existence.
“The clock is ticking, Danny,” he reminds me. “What’s it gonna be?”