30. Layne
Chapter thirty
Layne
S aturdays have quickly become my favorite day of the week. It’s the one day Wes and I are both free from work. Wes is taking me on a day date to hike along the coast and see towering redwood trees for the first time. It amazes him that I have never been up the coast or seen the trees. He realized my childhood was virtually non-existent and my life as a young adult was no different.
“You’re gonna love it, baby. All the fresh air and trees. It will do you some good to get out of the city.” He says, squeezing my thigh, pulling me from my thoughts.
The ocean is beautiful. I watch the waves come in and crash against the massive rocks, over and over. I wish I was brave enough for us to stop so I can stand with my toes in the sand. Have the waves crash over my legs, and let Wes chase me on the beach. Aquaphobia prevents me from bathing in a bathtub, let alone attempting to enter the ocean.
Maybe one day .
Wes takes the winding roads a little faster than I like. The creeping smile on his face is too cute as he shifts gears, increasing speed, I stare at him. Adrenaline junkie.
“You wanna slow down there, buddy? Before, the only tree we see is the one you smash us into.” I grip the seat a little tighter.
Wes chuckles, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got this under control,” he reassures me, his voice filled with confidence. I try to relax, reminding myself that I trust him and his driving skills.
I roll my eyes at him as we continue along the winding coastal roads. The scenery becomes even more breathtaking. Lush greenery surrounds us, and I can catch glimpses of the majestic redwood trees in the distance. The anticipation builds within me, and I can’t help but feel a sense of wonder and excitement.
I steal glances at Wes, admiring his adventurous spirit. He’s always trying to push me out of my comfort zone, encouraging me to experience new things. And today is no exception. Although I have fears and anxieties, Wes is determined to help me conquer them, one step at a time.
“So I read that being out in nature can actually help with depression,” Wes says in a soothing tone. “It can help you self-regulate your emotions and it has been known to lower blood pressure.” Wes says this all matter-of-factually.
Lingering feelings remain from the past days, pushing away thoughts is a constant effort. By actively working on being more open and honest with Wes regarding my inner thoughts, our connection has deepened, and we have grown closer. I am trying to keep my thoughts at bay.
Especially today.
We park to the side in a small turn off area. We get out of the car and Wes prepares by putting on a backpack that holds some food, water, and whatever else he has packed. After only a short walk through some shrubbery, we approach the hiking trail. I can’t help but feel nervous. The thought of being surrounded by towering redwoods fills me with awe, but also a touch of unease. Wes notices my apprehension and gently squeezes my hand, offering me reassurance.
We begin our hike, and the serenity of nature envelops us. The air feels crisper here, cleaner even, and the scent of pine fills my nostrils. The towering redwoods stand tall, their branches reaching towards the sky, creating a sense of grandeur. I take in the surrounding beauty, feeling a newfound appreciation for nature. I could stay out here for hours.
Damn it, he was right. This is exactly what I needed. There is something else I need, though. I wonder if he will indulge me.
“Chase me.” I ask, turning to face him.
“ Ma Petite Mort , I’ll never stop chasing you. Whether I am chasing the demons in your head, the monsters in your dreams, or simply you through the woods. You’re the only woman I want to chase. No matter how far you run, I’ll always be right behind you. So go ahead, run, baby.”
I take off, running as fast as I can without tripping on the roots of the trees. Branches snapping under my feet as I run further and further from where he stands. Once I feel like I’ve run far enough, I slow to a brisk walk. The gap between Wes and nature’s serenity grants me space for thought. The thoughts creep back in.
Broken. Damaged. Not good enough.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and I stop walking. This time, I’m not hiding. I want to be found.
“I’m a broken, shattered mess,” I yell, loud enough for him to hear me. “You’re only going to get cut on the shattered pieces of me.”
I can feel him. I can always feel him now.
I turn around and he stands a few feet away. No mask. Just him. He doesn’t come closer. He gives me space, letting me set the pace of the conversation .
“You know I’m not afraid of getting cut or bleeding, baby. If I have to cut myself and bleed on the shards of your heart, I’d happily do it for the rest of my life. Without you, my world is empty.” He leans up against the trunk of an immense tree, his eyes never drifting from mine.
Wes’s love and devotion penetrates my doubts and insecurities. I take a step towards him, wanting him to mend the shattered pieces of me. When I’m with him, he makes me feel whole.
“You saw me when I didn’t love myself enough to want to live,” I whisper, my voice filled with pain. “I don’t know how you do it. Why choose me when there are so many others? When you could have someone who you don’t have to fix.”
Wes’s eyes glisten with tenderness as he takes a step closer, pulling me into his arms. “You are more than just the sum of your shattered pieces, Ma Petite Mort . You are resilient and capable of incredible healing. If you let me, together, we can mend the fragments of our broken souls and create something beautiful. I want you. All of you. Your brokenness. Every mistake you ever made. I may not be able to make the trauma go away, and fuck, I wish I could. But I sure as fuck won’t let you live one more day in this world feeling unloved, unwanted, or less than the goddess that you are.”
His words resonate deep within me, igniting a flicker of hope. I reach down and take his hand, intertwining our fingers. His wedding band brushes against my finger, and I smile. We vowed to love each other until we die. I intend to keep my promise.
We make it home in the early hours of the evening. California’s allure is the ability to drive a few hours in any direction and discover breathtaking places. I wanted to spend the night in the redwoods, but Wes is on the hunt. A new pedophile has caught his attention, and he wants to get back so he can track him. We pull up next to the building and unload the car. Wes stopped for burgers and my stomach grumbles, smelling the greasy deliciousness as we head upstairs.
Placing the bag on the table, I head to the kitchen. Wes drops our bags and jackets on the couch and makes his way over as I grab drinks from the fridge and he grabs his laptop from his desk, bringing it to the table. Carefully, I place his tea in front of him and then place my glass of water on the table. I unpack the burgers and fries while he turns his computer on.
I text Atlas about our date while Wes fiddles on his laptop, muttering under his breath.
“Everything okay?” I ask him, watching his demeanor change as he scroll through pages of documents.
“This guy is a piece of shit and I cannot wait to hear him begging for his life. He fucking got his own daughters addicted to drugs, raped them and then trafficked them. What sort of man... what sort of father would do such a thing? It makes me fucking sick.” Wes is visibly distraught. This guy has gotten to him, and it sounds like he deserves every moment of the suffering Wes will inflict upon him.
“What’s his name?” I ask, dipping my fry in ketchup and bringing to my lips.
“Uh, Bannister, Corbin Bannister.”
Time vanished, leaving me in a stagnant world. My fry hits the table and I feel like I stop breathing.
I stare blankly at Wes, my mind racing with a flood of memories and emotions. Corbin Bannister. The mere mention of the name sets off a chain reaction in my body, igniting a storm of anger and fear. How could it be? How could Wes be hunting the man who has been the sole bringer of nightmares for years?
I try to steady myself, my hands trembling as I reach for my glass of water. Taking a sip, I struggle to find my voice. “Corbin Bannister... I know that name,” I say, my voice quivering.
Wes looks up from his laptop, concern etched across his face. “You do?” he asks, his voice filled with apprehension. “How?”
I nod slowly, my mind replaying the painful memories I had long buried. Corbin Bannister was the monster my parents were trying to sell me to. He would touch me and whisper in my ear that someday I would be his. I can still feel his rough hands palm my breast, his mouth on my neck. How he would force me to touch him. His words and touch shattered my childhood, leaving me scarred and broken.
His words play in my head. “Such a pretty little thing you are, aren’t you, Laney-Bear? Your mom and dad tell me you are going to be the best girl for me someday. Never let a boy touch you the way I do, Laney. You’re all mine.”
I want to vomit. The bile rises in my throat and I take another sip of water to keep it from coming up.
“Wes, I... He was the man my parents tried to sell me to,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper. My eyes fill with tears, on the verge of spilling.
Wes’s expression shifts from shock to rage. He shoves his computer back and reaches out, his hand gently resting on mine. “Fuck, baby. Did he hurt you?” he breathes, his voice filled with remorse.
To regain my composure, I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. “He never raped me, but he touched me and made me touch him. For years, when he would come to sell my parents their drugs, he would stay and abuse me. My parents let him. I never told anyone,” I continue, my voice shaking. “I thought I could escape the pain by burying it deep inside me. But hearing his name... it’s all coming back.”
Wes’s grip on my hand tightens. His eyes fill with compassion. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, his voice filled with empathy. “I swear to you, he will pay for what he did to you. Together. ”
Together.
Within me, a whirlwind of emotions stirs — fear, anger, and a shimmering trace of hope. Together, Wes and I will kill him, not just for me, but for all the victims. Perhaps we can finally mend the wounds that have imprisoned my mind for years.
After making sure that I had eaten enough, showered, and was cozy in bed with my Kindle, Wes left to do what he does best. Hunt his prey. I’m not ready to help just yet. I need tonight to clear my head and rest from an already emotional day. The tears roll down my cheeks as I let it all out, letting the pain seep out. The loft and warehouse echoes with my cries and whimpers.
I just want to not feel for one night. For one night, I want to be numb. And as much as I want to go to the kitchen and take out one of Wes’s bottles of whisky, I won’t. I will lie here and cry. I will feel everything.
So I can use that pain to kill him.
His death will be mine.