Chapter Ten
Sarah finds her voice, although it sounds distant above the panicked thundering of her pulse. She’d been sure he was dead. And how did he even find her? “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to talk to your fiancé? We were supposed to get married in the summer,” he tells Elijah, “but then the pandemic hit.”
Sarah’s gut clenches. If she doesn’t get down these stairs immediately, her sweaty hands will slip off the railing and she’ll tumble to his feet. They’ve discussed marriage, but he can’t hold down a job long enough to afford a ring, let alone a wedding. “What are you doing here?” she repeats.
Ben rolls his eyes at Elijah as if to say, Women, amirite? “Graham called me. Said you were stuck in this podunk town and needed to be rescued.”
Sarah feels like she’s going to throw up. Caleb was right. She should’ve never called Graham.
“Can I take your coat?” Elijah says.
She wants to say, No, he’s not staying but it’s too late. Ben sheds his coat and hands it to Elijah, his eyes never leaving her. He hands over his scarf as well, revealing a rust-stained patch of gauze on his neck, in the spot where her knife had sliced.
“I’ve already introduced myself to your host,” Ben says. “Is there somewhere Sarah and I can talk, Elijah?”
She doesn’t like the way he says Elijah’s name, like he’s already best buddies with him. Elijah’s hers.
“You can use the parlor. Would you like a coffee?” Elijah asks.
“Sure. Milk and sugar.”
“Sarah?”
“No, thank you.”
She watches helplessly as Elijah’s back retreats into the dining room. Ben grasps her upper arm and steers her into the parlor. “Holy shit. I’m at Oma’s house,” he says.
He sits on the sofa and pats the seat beside him, looking up expectantly as if she’s a dog.
She doesn’t even want to be in the same house as him, but her body moves on autopilot.
It’s best to do what he wants. The easiest way to deal with him.
She sets her face into neutral. Look at me. I’m boring. I’m not worth it.
Does it work? For you? Elijah had asked. Sarah prays it will.
Ben takes off his mask. Sarah once thought him good-looking, but now the sight of his face makes her sick.
She guesses the gash she’d opened under his jawline has been stitched up.
If the police aren’t here to charge her with assault or attempted manslaughter, what excuse did he make at the hospital?
Though it doesn’t matter. He’ll make up a new story once it scars, a story he can use to impress someone or gain their sympathy.
A hockey fight, or a mark left by his old man, depending on who he talks to.
“You missed any major arteries, thank God. The hospital said it looked more serious than it was.” He leans toward Sarah, resting his elbows on his knees. “I suppose I only have myself to blame. I scared you when I grabbed your wrist.”
It’s one of the few true things he’s ever said.
His voice lowers. “But I was afraid of losing you.”
His eyes bore into hers. He’s probably been watching romance movies again to get the look right. The way he shifts the blame to her only makes her nauseous. It’s her fault he feels the way he does. It’s always her fault.
Elijah chooses that moment to enter. He sets Ben’s coffee on the side table next to the decorative antlers. Ben straightens, his jaw twitching. Sarah silently thanks Elijah for interrupting.
Elijah gawks at the gauze on Ben’s neck. “Shaving accident,” Ben says. His smile is easy, like a worn-in baseball cap that comes on or off, depending on the company. Sarah was once charmed by that smile, until she saw how quickly it disappeared after Ben got what he wanted.
When Elijah doesn’t leave, Ben’s jaw twitches again but he continues. “I know these are trying times. The two of us, cooped up in that little place—I get why you freaked out. I forgive you. Come home, Sarah. We’ve been together too long to throw away what we have.”
His voice is even and reasonable. Sarah’s own words choke in her mouth.
She wants to tell him It’s over. Just two little words, but they’re stuck in her throat like fishbones.
Get out. Another two little words, but she’s terrified of how he might react.
She ran from his wrath once; she has nowhere left to run, except the woods.
Her palms stick to the sofa’s vinyl slipcover. Her terror is a bubble expanding behind her sternum, hindering her breath and speech. It’s the same fear that took control of her body when he’d caught her in the apartment kitchen with her go-bag.
“I don’t think she wants to leave,” Elijah says.
Ben turns on Elijah, his smile deepening. “What did she tell you?”
Elijah comes forward, his long fingers clutching the back of the armchair. “That you abused her.”
“Did she tell you I hit her?” Ben splutters, more astonished than outraged. He rounds on Sarah. “Did you tell him I hit you?”
She shakes her head, still unable to form words. Elijah says, “The lying. Cheating. Gaslighting.”
“When did I do that?” Ben asks her, disbelief clouding his face.
“All the time,” she croaks. He’s doing it now.
Ben laughs and shakes his head. “Come on. Give me some examples.”
“That—that time you bought those expensive headphones and hid them from me.” The incident falls limply from her stiff tongue.
It seems such a small thing. But it’s been a barrage of these seemingly insignificant transgressions, gathering like raindrops in a bucket, and she never noticed until the water level went over her head and she started to drown.
“Well, of course. You would’ve gotten mad.” He looks at Elijah again, his eyebrows raised like, Can you believe what you’re hearing? Elijah’s face is wide-eyed but impassive. Sarah’s glad Ben is talking to Elijah and not Caleb, because it would break her heart if Caleb were standing there, nodding.
She clears her throat. “And when you told me you’d quit smoking, and I came home and the toilet was filled with cigarette butts.”
“I told you, I have no idea how those got there.”
“And before the pandemic, there were all the times I came home, and it smelled like baby powder.”
“Oh my God, it was probably the neighbor’s perfume.”
“And the curtains were closed.”
“I don’t remember that. Are you sure you’re not mixing it up with some other nights?” He glances at Elijah. “I don’t know what she told you, but you can see it’s all in her head.”
“I know what I saw,” she says, teeth gritting.
“Well, you saw wrong. Anyway, I have some good news. I got a new job. I’m starting in a couple of weeks. I figure we can take that time to work on our relationship.”
So gracious, so reasonable. So terrifying.
“If the job works out, I can save some money and we can finally buy a place.” She’s heard that line before.
“We both work from home now, so we don’t have to stay in Toronto.
We could go where it’s cheaper. We could even buy a house like this.
This is a great property, by the way,” he adds, turning to Elijah.
“You should see the woods out back,” Elijah says.
Ben wants to move her away from the safety of the city, to where it’s cheaper and lonelier and what few friends Sarah has left will abandon her for good. “I’m not going with you,” she says, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Ben sighs and passes his hand over his face. When he looks up again, his eyes are red.
“I miss you, Sarah. I’m miserable without you. Come home.”
Sarah’s belly sours. He’s offering love, or what he thinks is the love she wants.
He thinks she wants to be needed. To feel as special as he first claimed she was.
Earlier this year, he would’ve been right.
But after those long months trapped together, she sees he actually needs her, to fuck and to pay the rent and soothe his feelings and entertain him when he’s bored.
Because without her attention, he’s just another angry man blustering into the void.
She bets he is miserable, and not for the reason he wants her to believe.
She shakes her head, slowly. “No.” She has to remain calm, as inscrutable as the stag on the wall. Let him think she’s small and boring. She can’t give him the drama he craves.
Color starts to stain Ben’s cheeks. He rises to his feet and stabs a finger at Elijah. “Is it because of him? Are you fucking him? Seriously, you accuse me of cheating, and you turn around and fuck this loser?”
He wants her to react so he can justify his temper. She blinks calmly. “No.”
“I think it’s time for you to go, Ben.” Elijah’s voice quavers, and Sarah feels an enormous rush of tenderness toward him. He’s standing up for her even though he’s had his share of angry men.
Ben gestures to the gauze on his neck. “I could’ve gone to the police. I could’ve told the doctors you attacked me. But I didn’t. I made up a bullshit story about the knife slipping when I was slicing a bagel. I did it for you.”
Sarah bites her tongue to keep herself from responding. No, he did it for himself. Because he’d never tell anyone his girlfriend had walked out on him so dramatically. They’d want to know why.
“It’s time,” Elijah repeats, coming around the armchair.
Ben whirls toward him. “Are you going to stop me from taking her home?”
“Maybe.”
Elijah’s face brightens for a split second before Ben drives his fist into it.
Elijah crumples into the armchair. Sarah forgets her composure and jumps up from the sofa. She digs her fingers into Ben’s arm, trying to drag him away. “Ben, stop it!” she shouts.
Ben shakes her off and straightens his collar. “See? See what you made me do?” Because it’s always her fault, isn’t it?
Elijah begins to laugh, his shoulders shaking while he drools blood down the front of his shirt.
“What the fuck are you laughing about?” Ben says.
“Go on,” Elijah says, struggling to stand. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“Ben, don’t!” Sarah cries, but he ignores her. He grabs Elijah by the front of his shirt, half-lifting him off the armchair, and punches him again.
When Elijah staggers to his feet, eyes shining, he asks, “Do you hear the screaming?” and she’s not sure if he’s asking her or Ben. “Do you?”
“You little freak,” Ben snarls, clamping his hands around Elijah’s neck.
“Don’t touch him!” Sarah grabs at Ben again, but he shoulders her backward, sending her tumbling over the coffee table. She grunts as she hits the floor, stars exploding behind her eyes. The vase tips off the edge and rolls across the plastic runners, spilling dried grass everywhere.
Elijah makes a horrible choking sound as he claws helplessly at Ben’s shoulders.
He’s ripped off the gauze but can’t do anything else.
The bubble of terror behind Sarah’s ribs pops.
Ben can’t hurt Elijah, not when he’s been hurt so much already.
She struggles to her feet, snatches up the vase in both hands, and smashes it over Ben’s head.
Ben lets go of Elijah and puts a hand to his temple, gaping with disbelief as it comes away red.
The disbelief quickly twists into fury. “This has gone on far enough,” he thunders.
He seizes Sarah’s wrist, the one he already left his mark on.
She hisses from the pain as he yanks her toward him.
The roar battering her eardrums is so loud she’s afraid they’ll burst. “It doesn’t have to be like this.
Why are you treating me this way? What have I done to deserve—”
Elijah splashes Ben’s coffee into his face. Ben releases Sarah, and she crashes back to the floor.
Ben swears, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “You little shit,” he growls, shoving Elijah over the coffee table.
Elijah drops the mug and tumbles onto the broken pottery. Ben starts to kick him. “You think you can—” Kick. “Take her—” Kick.
Elijah curls into a ball and keens in a high-pitched voice, suddenly transformed into the little boy whose dad was always a bit rough. A dark and molten fever floods across Sarah’s skin.
“Away—” Kick. “From—”
The thudding in Sarah’s eardrums is unbearable. She gropes for the side table and as she pulls herself up, her hand skims over the decorative antlers, just the right size for her fingers to curve around.
“Me.” Kick.
The pressure in her ears detonates, and she swings the antlers as hard as she can.
She swings and when she pulls back, the antlers catch on something, and when she tugs, blood sprays all over her as she almost falls backward again.
Ben clutches the side of his neck like he did that morning she fled the apartment, his eyes bulging in surprise.
This time she didn’t miss an artery.
And because the sight of Ben’s face makes her sick, even if it’s smeared with blood and shock, she regains her balance and swings a second time, and a third, screaming herself raw because no one can hear you scream out here.
She screams until she becomes conscious of a body behind hers, slim but strong. Long, cool fingers cover hers, and she registers the slickness of the antlers in her hands. “Sarah,” Elijah says gently. “You can stop now.”
Ben gurgles in a glossy puddle on the sofa. She pants furiously, tasting his blood on her lips, and it just enrages her that even as he’s dying, he’s pushing part of himself, unwanted, on her body.
Elijah pries the antlers out of her grip and sets them on the sofa beside Ben.
“Were you really getting married?” His left eye is starting to swell, but it’s still bright and curious.
“No, that was another one of his lies. Oh God. I didn’t mean to—”
Yes, she did.
“I would’ve done the same,” he says.
“Are you okay?” She reaches out and touches Elijah’s cheek, leaving a streak of red.
He grins, revealing bloodied teeth. “I’ve had worse. Are you okay? How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.” How does she feel?
She feels free.
She feels alive.
She feels safe, at last.
Her heart pounds but it’s a fierce, triumphant drumbeat.
The feeling doesn’t last, though. The implication of what she’s done crashes over her head like a tidal wave. “Oh my God. We need to call 911.”
Elijah puts his hand over her sticky one. “No one has to know,” he says, quietly.
Because she trusts him, she swallows and nods. “Yes. No one has to know.”
And then they hear the rumble of Caleb’s truck outside.
Sarah and Elijah stare at each other. There’s no way they can hide Ben’s body and clean up the parlor in time.
The front door opens. “Hey Elijah, whose car is—”
Time stops. Every heartbeat is a thunderclap, each breath an explosion. Sarah feels every splash of blood sliding down her hair, soaking into her clothes, congealing on her skin. Elijah’s breath shudders, wet and labored.
“Elijah,” Caleb says, slowly. “Elijah, what did you do?”