Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
KNOX
Idrive to the area Carter and I discussed bringing her. We live in Kansas, and nothing exciting happens here aside from Kill’s fights and the car meets. There is one good thing about the middle of nowhere, though.
Privacy.
We don’t want an audience with our girl, especially since she has been on the news after escaping from the asylum. More than that, we want her alone.
I pull up to an overlook, park the car, and can’t help the chuckle as she looks around like a curious child.
“What is this?”
“Come on, Tesoro,” I say, as I step outside the vehicle with Carter following suit. Carter grabs the food from the trunk as I walk around to Heather’s door, helping her out.
I take her hand in mine as she glances around our surroundings.
It’s a small town, so it’s not surrounded with lights like you’d find in a bigger city. There are trees everywhere, and the moon hangs high in the sky brightly. It’s strange how sometimes it looks small, but on a night like tonight it looks larger than life.
There’s a gravel path that follows around the man-made lake and a large grassy area spanning several acres.
Carter walks over to the grass, puts a blanket down, and places the food and wine on top of the purple blanket.
I nearly laughed at his choice of color, but I know it was for her.
It’s becoming crystal clear that there is nothing he won’t do for her.
I pull her to the blanket, and she sits down. Reaching out to take her wine glass from Carter, he says, “I’ve got it.”
He holds the glass with two shaky hands as he extends it to her.
“Tesoro, only touch the glass, please.”
She’s very careful to do as I say, but has a look of confusion on her face. I imagine she’s wondering why he’s suddenly pushing himself to do things he is not comfortable with. Honestly, I have the same question.
We sit on the blanket, Heather beside me, with Carter across from her.
I hand her a gift bag and say, “We had this made for you.”
She sets her glass on the ground, takes the purple bag, and stares at it.
“I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts.”
Carter says, “We aren’t. You are the fucking gift. Now open it.”
She giggles as she repeats his words to herself.
“You are the fucking gift.”
Heather opens the small bag and pulls a jewelry box out. She opens it with a gasp and takes the charm bracelet out.
“A racing flag, a black car, a purple car, a bow and a black heart,” She says as she inspects it closely.
“Please tell me this isn’t a goodbye gift.”
Carter narrows his gaze at her.
“There will be no fucking goodbye, Little Heathen. You belong to us. End of discussion.”
His statement gives me pause. I’m fond of her, and like fucking her, but I’m not in love with Heather.
Carter is. When he first set his eyes on her, Killain and I thought it was his OCD, but now it’s clearly more than that.
He said he’s in love with her, and I believe him.
It’s in the way he looks at her, and the way he wants to give her everything, even at the expense of himself.
Maybe that’s what love is. Wanting someone else’s happiness above your own.
Carter opens the basket and grabs the fruit and sandwiches he made. He places a clear plastic plate of food in front of her and says, “Eat.”
She glances at him, narrowing her gaze, as if she’s trying to read his mind. He’s nervous, and it’s written all over his face.
“Carter, what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and sits back down. Reaching across, he hands me a plate and then opens his own. I take the plastic wrap off her plate and then mine. I take a large bite of my roast beef sandwich and chew quickly.
She holds her sandwich to her mouth, ready to take a bite, but stops and repeats her previous question.
“Carter, what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. I can see, as he chews his food, that something is going on in his head.
“I’m okay. Sometimes I have—not really flashbacks, but intrusive thoughts. There’s no rhyme or reason for why they come. It’s like images from the torture just appear in my mind. I told you before, Little Heathen, I’m a fucking head case.”
Heather tosses back her wine, like she needs the liquid courage for what comes next.
“Were you sexually abused?” She asks warily, before adding, “You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know, if you’re comfortable telling me.”
I wait for his answer, not knowing the truth, because he has never talked about what happened in detail. Carter shakes his head before answering her.
“No. I was beaten and tortured, but there was no sexual abuse.”
Attempting to take the drama down a notch, I grab the bracelet and fasten it onto her wrist. She looks up at me with an emotion-filled expression.
“Thank you.”
“Eat,” I say, and she picks up a strawberry and puts it into her mouth.
We eat quietly, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s like the three of us have been like this for years, when in reality, it’s only been a month.
Once we finish with the food, I take the dishes and set them aside.
“Lie down, Tesoro.”
She does, and I lie beside her, taking her left hand in mine, so Carter can relax on the other side of her. The three of us lay under the stars, as Heather asks quietly, “Do you believe in God?”
Carter chokes out a pained, “No.”
“Why?” Heather asks, her tone curious rather than judgmental.
“God is supposed to love the people he created. What kind of God would allow children to be abused the way we were? If God is real, he could’ve stopped it, but he didn’t.
They say he’s the father of all creation.
Fathers protect their children. If there’s a God, he’s a piss poor excuse for a parent.
As bad as our real father, because he could’ve saved us, but chose not to.
So no, I don’t believe there’s a God. Not a good one, anyway. ”
Heather stares up at the stars in wonder.
“I agree, but can’t help thinking about how things so beautiful exist without a creator.
The stars, the moon, things that emotionally move you.
A person that causes you to feel something so deeply—in a way you never imagined possible.
Do you think people come into our lives for a purpose, or is it just one big coincidence? ”
I don’t respond, because this conversation seems more about her and my brother. I don’t want to interject my thoughts when I haven’t experienced what either of them have.
“The Prophet says it’s God's will,” Heather says quietly.
Carter growls angrily.
“The Prophet is a fucking pedophile. If you don’t kill him, I will.”
Her eyes light up with an unhinged glare, and she turns her head to face Carter.
“I’m going to kill him. Brutally. He is going to suffer.
For every tear I’ve shed, he will shed two.
He’s going to pay the price for what he has done to me, and all of the other little girls in my family.
For every time I’ve wanted to die. For every time I’ve cut myself because of him.
All of my trauma was caused by him. Every ounce of pain he caused will be given back to him.
I don’t know when I’ll find him, but when I do, I’ll have the sweetest retribution. ”