Chapter 30
Disturbing things find a home in my head. Sometimes they scare me so much, it feels like they’ve happened already. Like I had to do something, hurry somewhere or decide something because of them. Sometimes I feel like it’s already too late. How much do I believe the things in my head?
My hands were shaking as I sat there, waiting for my phone to charge. Just a little more, and I’d hear dad’s voice. I’d tell him everything. They’d have a chance to escape.
Once they’d be safe again, dad would call me and I’d run away from here.
I’d wake up early and take the first bus. There’d be stops on the route, I’d buy a ticket to another bus, so Eric wouldn’t track me down.
I’d leave the reaper, his purgatory, the nightmares and all my past behind.
I’d bury the memories and never go back to them.
I would find peace and tranquility. I would learn to live again.
We’d move to another city, maybe even another country.
We’d hide for a while and start our life anew.
I’d find a job. I’d try everything that sparks even the slightest interest in me.
I’d stop wasting time and whining. I’d start doing more and appreciating what I did.
I’d find myself. I could fill that empty, lonely part of me that aches like an open wound. I would be happy. I was sure I would .
And if I suddenly decided that my life was terrible, I’d come to the place I’d buried the memories at and stand there for a while. And then I’d return to my life again, ready to appreciate every moment, every breath, every smile, every kind word. I’d learn to appreciate life.
While everyone was asleep and Norman was doing his night patrol, I snuck into his room and took his charger. He might notice it gone and barge in looking for it any minute. Or he might go to sleep and realize it’s gone only in the morning.
I tried not to think about it, although I sat quietly and tried to listen for any noise outside the door.
I felt anxiety trying to get the better of me. It’s like a spasm that cramps you up and then releases, slowly driving you crazy.
The phone screen lit up and I dialed the number.
I heard the dial tone.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi, dad.”
My eyes were filled with tears.
“I called the number we last spoke on, but it was unavailable.”
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Are there any good news?”
A heavy sigh was heard on the other end.
“I sold my car and our wedding bands this week.”
He stopped, waiting for any questions, but I kept listening.
“I won’t go into medical terms. I’m fed up with them myself.
The thing is, your mother needs a year-long injection treatment.
I scraped together enough money for the first two shots.
I borrowed some money from my colleagues at work.
I’ve reached out to a relief fund but things aren’t going as well as I’d like.
I wanted to take out a loan, but things have been going badly at work for the last six months, so it was denied.
We need ten more injections. Each injection costs around six thousand dollars. ”
I looked at the wall. My head was empty, and my ears were ringing like I’d just been hit. Tears were streaming down my face.
Was this the end?
She couldn’t just die.
No way.
She would never leave us.
She would never leave me.
“Dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“I’m scared. I’m so scared.”
“I know. So am I. But we aren’t giving up yet. And don’t even think of coming back to us now. She’s always dreamed of you graduating from the university. So focus on your studies and I’ll do my best to help her.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
My words felt bitter.
It was my first lie.
I won’t be able to do the bare minimum my mom expects of me.
“Now then, how have you been? How are your studies?”
“It’s alright.”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it got stuck.
“Not much to tell there. Going to classes, doing homework. Just a Groundhog Day.”
Another lie.
I could feel it crush my heart.
“And your friends? Do you see them often? How’s Bell doing?”
My jaw began shaking. I was holding back tears.
“Bell’s okay.”
The third lie.
Just as disgusting, sticky and tar black as the mire I was now drowning in.
“Stay safe, Zoe. Don’t strain yourself and call me some time.”
“I will,” I replied pensively .
I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling like I couldn’t control my breakdown.
“Dad, kiss mom for me.”
“I will, honey. Take care. And call me. I miss you.”
“I’ll call... and I miss you, too... so much.”
The call ended and I fell face down into the pillow to muffle my screams.
I screamed until my vocal cords hurt.
I continued to sob until my sobs turned into weeps, and my weeps turned into a ringing silence.
I woke up at lunchtime and went to the bathroom. My eyes were red and I could see two large dark circles underneath.
I began looking my body over.
The bruises changed color from blue to greenish yellow. They were no longer aching, though they kept my body looking ugly.
If I couldn’t be saved, at least my family should be. I’d get the money. I’d do anything to get it. She would not die. She would live.
Yesterday’s pity left with the dawn, anger taking its place.
I liked the anger. It was productive. It made me stronger. Made me hate. It pushed me to the edge, whispering, “Do it.”
It’s lunchtime. The reaper was supposed to be in the dining hall. But I didn’t find him downstairs. I looked out of the window. The car was gone.
“Marta, where’s the reap... Eric gone?”
She kept kneading the dough, not looking at me.
“I’m only a housekeeper, not his secretary. How would I know where he went. Not like he reports to me.”
Marta wasn’t in the mood, so I tried again:
“Do you think he’d be back today? Can you call him?”
She took her eyes off the dough and gave me an annoyed look.
“Don’t even think of running away. Your face’s barely begun healing up. Don’t make him angry.”
“I’m not going to run. ”
She narrowed her eyes at me and turned away.
“Whatever you’re up to, better quit it right now.”
“How long have you been working for him?”
“From his bottle up.”
“Where’re his parents? Are they still around?”
“They’re dead.”
My thoughts went to my parents, but I pushed them aside.
She plopped the dough in a bowl, covered it with plastic wrap and stuck it in the freezer.
“What did they do?”
“Same thing he does.”
She put vegetables in a large bowl and set about washing them.
“Did they get along?”
“Sometimes.”
Her monosyllabic answers didn’t help much.
“Has Eric always been like that?”
She glanced at me and then looked down at the vegetables on the cutting board.
“No.”
“Do you think he’s a good or a bad man?”
I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from her.
Marta huffed.
“He’s neither good, nor bad. He’s just a man.”
Just a man.
I repeated this to myself, trying to figure out if he really was just a man, and not the evil I’d made him out to be.
“He leaves so often. Is he visiting his girlfriend?”
“No idea, but he’s never brought anyone home.”
“What does he...”
“Enough with the interrogation. Ask him yourself when he comes back. Now, go away from the kitchen. I can’t get anything done with you.”
Talking to Marta helped me learn one thing: he was away .
I walked up the stairs and turned towards his office when I heard the sound of the front door opening.
I darted towards my room and stood just around the corner, listening in on the conversation.
“How’s she?”
“Came out for a chat.”
“What did she ask you about?”
“You. She asked me to call you, but I told her she could talk to you herself when you come back.”
“Alright.”
Hearing his footsteps, I quietly opened and closed the door of my room.
I quickly climbed under the blanket and lay down with my back to the door.
He’s coming. I knew it.
No. I could feel it.
All my morning anger was replaced by a thrill of excitement, and my thoughts got tangled up.
I didn’t understand why the fluster I felt was so pleasant and not tormenting. I still hated him. He took my life away. Twice. And last night was the second time.
I had to talk to him when he got here. I needed money, and he had plenty.
There was a barely audible knock on the door.
I froze.
My heart was pounding in my chest, ready to burst and fall out onto the bed.
The door opened and I realized I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t going to talk to him, not after he washed me, and not after I got handsy with him in the kitchen last night.
My cheeks began to burn from the memories and the overwhelming shame.
I was disgusting .
His steps pulled me out of my thoughts.
I heard him stop. I could feel his smell. It no longer felt heavy. I was beginning to like it.
The mattress sagged. His fingers gently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.
His fingertips brushed against my cheek, which no longer hurt, but still didn’t look great.
I thought he was going to leave, but he didn’t. He stayed there, sitting silently next to me.
My heart ached from how hard it was beating.
Why wasn’t he leaving? Why was he still sitting there? Did he notice I wasn’t asleep?
He would’ve spoken if he had.
I felt the mattress return to its original form.
The door closed and I turned onto my back, taking deep breath and trying to figure him out.
Why did he care?
Anger was coming back to me.
It wasn’t just that he had physical power over my life that made me angry, but that he was starting to get too deep under my skin. Somewhere he had no business being at.
The next morning I got up before dawn. I wanted to go to his office and find the safe.
Leaving the room, I looked around, listening for any sounds.
I opened the door, walking in backwards and watching his bedroom door.
“Why are you sneaking in here?”
I gasped, not expecting to see him back so soon.
“I didn’t want to make a fuss.”
“In my office while I was away?”
Damn it.
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow .
“I want to talk.”
Only the warm light from a lamp on the desk illuminated the room.
He looked scary, like he’d just crept out of a crypt.
His eyes watched me intently.
“Take a seat.”
Sitting down on the cold leather sofa, I realized I was wearing the same pajamas I had on the night we met in the kitchen.
I began rolling the ring.
He took his coffee, stood up and calmly walked over to the reddish-brown leather chair, sitting down opposite me.
The setting felt like a deal with the devil. And it was, really.
He sat down and took a sip of his coffee. I shifted on the couch under his gaze, flustered by the memories and what I was about to offer him.
“What do you want to talk about?”
I looked up at him and opened my mouth to speak, only to close it almost immediately.
I should’ve written my speech down on a piece of paper, because right now my thoughts were in utter chaos.
I looked down at the ring on my left hand.
Fear and anxiety made my stomach turn.
His gaze fell on my hands.
“I want you to pay me,” I blurted out in a single burst.
He smiled, placing the cup back on the table.
“Pay for what?”
His dark gaze made me feel naked and helpless before him.
“For completing your tasks. I brought you the necklace, like you told me to. I know there’ll be other tasks, and I want to get paid for them.”
Something flashed through his eyes when I said that.
It was so fast I didn’t get to see how he felt about it.
“I want to get at least something for completing them. ”
“You do.”
“What do I get then?”
“You have a new room with a soft bed, your own bathroom and a wardrobe filled with new things. Marta as a personal chef. Sana as your doctor. Norman and Levi as personal drivers. You can go outside and take walks around the manor. But I could chain you up in the basement, feed you leftovers and we’d see how well you hold up. ”
I swallowed audibly.
I looked down at the ring on my hand.
“So that’s a no?”
“No.”
“No?”
He raised his eyebrow questioningly.
All was quiet once more.
“What do you need the money for, Zoe?”