10. Haven #2
I look down at the screen through blurred vision.
@inherentvice
Nice day for an arrest, isn’t it, sweet girl? Drew quite the crowd.
My blood turns to ice.
No.
No, no, fuck no.
I pivot on my heel, my eyes immediately drawn to the shadows in the depths of the woods behind the library gardens. The woods where Kai chased me, then fucked me. Where I tried to choke him and failed.
In those woods lurks a fucking monster.
Watching me.
Watching us.
Bastian, leaning against a tree with his phone dangling from his hand as he rakes his fingers slowly through his hair.
Perfectly calm. Perfectly composed.
Thoroughly enjoying the fucking show.
My hand moves automatically, reaching for the person closest to me. I don’t even know who they are—their face just a blur from the corner of my eye.
Bastian raises a finger to his lips.
Shh.
Slowly shakes his head.
Don’t.
The threat couldn’t be clearer.
I don’t know what he’ll do if I point him out. But I know it’ll be worse than this. Somehow, it’ll be worse.
He beckons me with a curl of his finger.
Come here.
I shake my head, mouthing, “Fuck you,” with all the vehemence I can muster.
Turn back to Kai.
He’s still on the ground, yelling and struggling, putting up such a fight that the campus police haven’t been able to cuff him. A third cop dressed in a different uniform appears, and all the blood leaves my face.
Deputy Thatcher.
He glances down at Kai, and then immediately looks up toward the crowd where I’m standing. I’m not sure if he was purposefully looking for me, but he locks on me, regardless. His mouth moves as he speaks to one of the security guards trying to cuff Kai, but his eyes don’t move from mine.
My phone rings.
I don’t need to look to know who it is.
I answer while my eyes are still locked to Thatcher’s. He’s much too far away to hear, but the crawling sensation going up my spine makes me cup a hand over my mouth, anyway.
He can probably read lips, and I’m sure as fuck not taking a chance.
“What the fuck did you do?” I hiss into the phone as I take a slow step back.
Officer Martin reaches Thatcher, and the deputy breaks eye contact with me to speak to him.
Bastian chuckles into my ear. “Some of my best work. Now come here, sweet girl. I want to speak to you.”
“Fuck you. You went too far.” My voice is shaking. I’m shaking. Everything is shaking.
“I did exactly what needed to be done.” Bastian sounds amused.
“There’s no way this is going to stick. Kai was with me.”
“Come here, Haven.”
“Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere with you, you fucking psycho—“
“You want our boy to go to prison?”
I whip my head around to glare at Bastian. He’s still in the same spot, and the instant our eyes lock, a slow smile spreads across his mouth.
“Kidnapping. Assault. Attempted murder. That’s a couple of years. Is that what you want?”
My breath catches. “There’s no fucking way—“
“Oh, sweet girl, this isn’t my first rodeo. But it might be his last.”
I can’t answer. Can’t breathe.
My chest is too tight, my skull ready to crack from the pressure building inside.
Bastian sighs into the phone, rubbing his jaw as he watches me from the shadows.
“You’ve reached a fork in the road, Haven. Unlike Alice, it matters very much which path you choose.”
A memory surfaces, drawn from the dark recesses of my mind as if Bastian just spoke a magic word.
A worn-out copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is nestled in my lap as I sit huddled in the corner of Dad’s single wide. I’m squeezed in beside the TV set and the thin wall, thumb in my mouth, a thick strand of my dirty hair wound around my fingers.
Thump—thump—thump.
I turn the page, staring at the black and white pictures inside, ignoring the words because I can’t read yet. I don’t even know what reading is. Just like I don’t know what fucking is.
Thump—thump—thump.
The crinkled page turns stiffly in my chubby fingers. Someone—probably me—spilled juice on the book, and ever since it’s been a chore to turn the pages. Several of them are still fused together, pictures forever sealed shut.
I get to one of them now, and huff out through my nose when I realize it’s one of my favorite pictures—the one of Alice no bigger than a thumb, holding a tiny twig for a puppy. I jam a finger between the pages and try to pry them apart, only for the top one to tear away like tissue paper.
Thump—thump—thump.
A harsh, guttural sound comes through the wall. Then the sound of flesh meeting flesh. The same sound daddy’s hand makes when he hits my bum because I’ve been naughty.
The TV set next to me turns on with a hiss of static and crackles. I cower a little deeper into my corner, trying to keep my toes and my legs and my book in the shadows.
The recliner just out of my view creaks as someone sits on it.
A can snaps open. Beer fizzes, then glugs. A belch, as recognizable as all the other sounds.
“Make us a sandwich, princess,” Daddy says.
I carefully push my book under the gap beneath the TV set and crawl out of the shadows. Daddy doesn’t look at me as I hurry past, his eyes glued to the TV.