Chapter Twenty-Five
Kelsey
I roll over and I realize I’m in a bed, dressed in someone else’s clothes. My limbs are weak and my mind cloudy as I feel like I’m trapped in a haze, caught between awake and asleep. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open as I try to focus on where I am.
Then it hits me like a freight train. The loose boat in the storm. Jason. The struggle on the dock. Being taken away while Sam and Bella stood by helplessly and watched.
I have to get out of here, I think as I pull my aching body from the bed, drag myself to the window and look out onto the water. Blinking rapidly, I try to clear my eyes.
As far as I can see, it’s rocky coastline and water.
Not another house for miles, but that doesn’t stop me from pushing up on the window.
Knowing Jason is far too smart to leave me unattended in a room where I could easily get away, the window won’t move.
Nailed shut with a series of rusty nails, all driven into the wood so deeply there’s an impression from the hammer left around each one.
I scrub my hands over my face trying to figure out what to do.
I could break the window, climb out and run to find someone to help me.
But even in this hazy stupor, I know that’s impossible.
My body is too weak to take me very far and from the looks of things, it might be nearly impossible to find civilization.
I notice the boat, the one Jason dragged me onto, floating at the dock just a few yards down from the house.
I could get to the boat, but there’s no guarantee the keys will be in it or that I could even make it there.
Turned over on the dock is a small rowboat, with the oars crossed over the top of it. That may be my only chance of escape.
I debate in my head just how to break the window and exactly how long it would take me to get to the dock and turn the rowboat over and get it into the water.
But every thought is entirely pointless.
In the state I’m in, I can barely lift my arm up over my head, let alone carry myself down to the water and row a boat for miles.
Feeling hopeless, I collapse on the floor; my body giving way and the tears begin to fall. I can only imagine what is going on back home. I’m sure Beck is going insane and Finn is even angrier with himself for leaving Sam in charge.
But none of this is their fault. I left and went out to the dock without telling Sam.
I left Bella inside when I should have taken her with me.
I made so many mistakes, but I can’t dwell on that now.
I need to figure out where I’m at and find a way to get word to Beck or Finn or anyone at this point.
I crawl back over to the bed, climbing in and pulling the covers up over my head, I listen to the silence of the house. I have no idea what time it is, but judging by the sky, it’s early morning. The sun is just beginning to rise out over the water, casting an ethereal glow into the room.
Removing the covers, I strain to listen for anything that might indicate whether Jason is in the house or not. I hear nothing, so I get up and test the door. Turning the knob, it opens; shocking me that he wouldn’t think to lock the door from the outside.
I pad quietly down the hallway, to a doorway that opens up to a small living room and kitchen. I stop and look around, apprehensive, my heart thumping rapidly in my chest as I try to process just exactly where I’m at and how I’m going to get away.
The house is almost too quiet, an eerie silence that makes me shudder. And then, from out of nowhere, a ferocious blow to the back of my head knocks me to the ground and my body bounces off the worn wood floor. My vision blurs even more than before as the pain pulses through my skull.
I scream out loud just as a swift blow is landed against my stomach, and all the air leaves my lungs, unleashing another scream but this time silently. Curled into a ball anticipating another blow, I try to fight the nausea that pools in my throat.
I roll over and look up at Jason standing over me. His face filled with horror as he bends down and scoops me into his arms.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whimpers, tears running from his eyes. He strokes my hair, shushing and pressing kisses to my face. I struggle in his arms, twisting and turning, but he hauls back and smacks me across the face. “Stop it!” he yells, tugging at his hair.
My eyes grow wide as I take in his face and I realize I’m dealing with someone who is far more unstable than I ever thought.
“Rachel,” he cries. “Don’t you see? We can be together again. I love you.”
“Who’s Rachel?” I ask, not realizing this will cause him to explode with fury.
Jason shoves me away from him, slapping me again, my face burning and as I run my tongue along my lip, I taste blood. I swallow hard and brace myself for another slap. My shoulders are scrunched up and my eyes are closed as I feel his hand stroke my cheek gently.
“You’re Rachel, silly girl,” he says, once again turning on a dime, his personality mimicking that of someone who cares about me.
“And you’re…” I say, hoping he doesn’t lose his shit again, but he smiles at me sweetly.
“Oh, I like this game,” he says, stepping closer to me. “I’m your boyfriend, Tyson, but if you want to role play, we can do that.” He shoots me a wicked smile and I almost vomit on the spot.
I can’t think of anything more repulsive than pretending to be Jason’s girlfriend, but I recognize in order to get through this, I’m going to need to be smarter than him. And right now, pretending his name is Tyson and my name is Rachel, feels like my only option.
He could have killed me already; he’s had multiple opportunities to do so and I realize now that he doesn’t want to kill me. But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen if he flies off into a fit of rage again.
Pulling myself together and gathering up the courage I need to accomplish this, I picture Beck’s face. I need to get back to him, I need to feel his arms around me. I need the safety and comfort I find with him, but it won’t happen unless I can figure out how to get away from Jason.
I sidle up against Jason’s side, my arms slipping around his waist as I run my lips across his neck and look around the room for a phone or something to indicate just where I’m at.
On an end table next to the couch is a picture of a young woman with what looks like her family.
She’s got a smile on her face and as I take in the picture, I notice she looks an awful lot like me.
Tall and thin, brown hair and blue eyes.
This must be Rachel. And as I take in the rest of the house, I gather that this must be Rachel’s house.
Decorated in muted blues and greens, bookshelves with books and pictures flank the fireplace.
It looks like she lives alone or lived alone because I have seen no sign of her.
So far this is the only indication of where I might be and in the grand scheme of things, it means nothing. All I have is a first name and the rocky coastline to go on.
Jason’s hand begins to move up the back of my shirt and I tense in his arms. That vomit that finally started to subside has now returned. I can’t possibly have sex with Jason. I’m willing to fake this, but I can’t bring myself to do that.
I slide away from him, taking his hand in mine and leading him into the kitchen. My body is still aching with exhaustion and now sore from the beating I just took, I fall into a chair.
“Baby,” I say, my voice sickeningly sweet. “I’m so hungry. Do you think we could have some breakfast?”
“Of course,” he says, pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that is far too needy and it takes everything in me to respond.
My lips are firm against his, while his tongue nudges at my mouth, trying to part my lips. I swallow hard and give in, but my eyes stay glued closed.
Jason pulls back and leans down to give me a quick kiss on the top of my head before retreating to the refrigerator to start making breakfast.
While his back is turned, I scan the room again, taking note of everything around me.
A picture of Rachel standing next to a boat called Lucky Lady; a huge smile on her face and her finger pointing at a sign above her head. The sign reads, “Gloucester Marina and Boat Dock” and it’s my first clue indicating that I might be in Gloucester, a small beach town just south of Rockport.
I rise from the table and walk over to where Jason is standing at the stove, making scrambled eggs.
I wrap my arms around his waist, distracting him, as I look at the magnets on the refrigerator.
One for a florist and another for a pizza place, both in Gloucester and the last one a veterinarian in Boston, but who also has an office in Gloucester.
At this point I’m fairly certain, I’m in Gloucester, but that does me no good if I can’t get in touch with someone to help me. I haven’t found a phone yet, and the house isn’t really that big. I would guess there’s one more bedroom and maybe a mudroom, but that’s about all.
Jason turns in my arms and begins to kiss his way along my neck until he reaches my mouth. Again I kiss him back, but it’s all wrong; tight and stiff, my lips pursed closed and my eyes looking anywhere but at his face.
I pull back and ask, “Are the eggs ready yet?” Slipping away from him, I open the fridge and look at what’s inside. Taking note that it’s barely filled and what is in there was purchased recently.
I take out a carton of orange juice and some raspberries. I pour us both a glass as Jason serves the eggs; I add the raspberries to the plate.
We both sit down and I shove the eggs around on my plate with my fork, too sick to my stomach to even contemplate eating.
My head is still spinning and my face aches when I open my mouth to put in a raspberry.
I wince in pain as I chew and Jason reaches across the table and brushes his hand over the swollen bruise that marks my face.