Chapter 18 #3
He helps me up, supporting me by holding my arm at the elbow. When I’m nearly at full height, he cups my face gently with his hand. “I just want to love you, Arianna, baby. Let me love you,” he whispers.
My mind is exhausted. My body is broken, again. I don’t have the strength to fight him. So, I don’t. I just nod my acceptance of the situation. But I won’t accept his twisted kind of love.
“I’ll help you get dressed,” he offers.
“I can do it,” I say quietly, and I feel him stiffen beside me.
“I want to surprise you, okay?” I insist and force a fake smile through the pain of my ribs, and the situation.
Every second I think of Denham. I see his face and imagine the hurt that would show in his eyes if he knew what I was doing right now.
But he would have come looking for me if he wanted me, right?
He would have fought for me like he promised he would, if he really wanted me.
Every second that passes, my heart beats a little slower.
I am dying inside. My love for him is killing my soul, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I endure the pain to save his life, that’s the way it has to be.
No alternative.
No way out.
Life has gone from being inexplicably beautiful, to hopelessly dark.
“I need to use the bathroom and get showered.” I manage to get the words out on shaky breaths.
I might only be delaying the inevitable but I need to buy myself more time.
I’m not ready to even think about doing this.
I don’t know how I’m going to make myself ready, no amount of preparation could do that, but I need to figure out a way.
“Okay,” he answers simply.
“Okay.” I smile to placate him, anything to get him to leave.
“I’ll wait right here.” He sits in the leather armchair in the corner of the room, stretching back and resting one ankle on his knee. He smiles crookedly at me then brings his hand up to his chin and rests it on his knuckles.
Shit.
“You don’t need to wait,” I whisper. “I might be a while; a girl has to look good for her wedding day and all that.”
I step forward, encouraging him to step back out of the bathroom and let me close the door behind him.
I slip the lock in place as quietly as I possibly can; puzzling that he hasn’t taken all the locks off the doors in this condo, like he had the one we used to live in together.
There was no such thing as privacy. I’m not sure if it’s something he’s overlooked, or if it’s meant to lull me into a false sense of security.
Either way, I let out a painful breath when the lock is fully engaged.
I look around the room, not knowing why I’m really in here. I need time. But what for? Isn’t this just making it worse? Isn’t this just a form of torture, prolonging the agony of what’s to come?
I run the cold water and splash my face. I gasp when it hits me, but I’m grateful for the split second distraction.
I brace my hands on both sides of the sink and take several deep breaths before looking up at my reflection.
This is the closest I’ve looked in the mirror for days.
My skin is sallow, my eyes sunken and sad.
What was a familiar sight a few years ago has come back to visit like an old unwelcome acquaintance.
Time may have passed, but nothing has really changed.
I mindlessly open the cabinet above the sink, as if there will be a miraculous solution hiding amongst the ointments and lotions. This is the first time I have thought to look through anything of Jonny’s, nothing interesting in there, until …
A small brown bottle catches my eye …
A solution to this situation. In fact, a solution to every situation.
Do I have time? How long will it take for Jonny to break down the door?
I twist off the cap and pour six, maybe seven of the little white pills into my hand. At this moment, nothing has made more sense.
What’s the common denominator in every sorrowful situation over the last few years?
Me.
I’m the root of everyone’s problems. I’m always going to be the reason behind Jonny’s obsession and determination to hurt others, and I can’t live with that guilt.
I take the toothbrushes out of the cup, and fill it with water. It doesn’t even take me a second thought to know that this is the right decision. I throw the handful of pills into my mouth, and wash them down.
I tip a second handful of pills into my palm when Jonny knocks hard on the door. It makes me jump and nearly all of them go skittering across the floor.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I call, nervously.
“Arianna, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, I’m just about to get into the shower.”
“You’re not deliberately keeping me waiting, are you? Because you know how much I hate to be kept waiting, baby.”
“No.” I laugh, “Of course not. You want me to look my best, right?”
“Of course.” I hear the smile in his voice.
“How would you like me to wear my hair?” I ask, stalling for time. Even five more minutes is a bonus.
I pick up as many pills as I can off of the floor, as I’m reluctant to tip the bottle for fear of him hearing the rattle those tiny little pills make, and knowing Jonny he’s pressing his ear up against the hardwood.
“Wear it up,” he requests. “Something elegant, so I can see your beautiful neck.”
“Okay,” I call.
How many have I had already? Is that enough?
I take the few more that I’ve gathered up from the floor and start to run the shower. I slip off the robe, wincing as the motion twists my newly injured ribs.
The shower is heavenly, the water cascades over my body and I feel remarkably calm considering the situation I’m in.
There’s something very freeing about taking control of your destiny, taking control of your life, even if it is for just a few more hours.
I wrap my arms around my aching ribs and drop my chin to my chest.
When I think of Denham, my heart feels heavy. I don’t regret this. Not one bit. But I do regret ever getting involved with Jonny Ellison. I regret it for all the hurt and pain he has caused for so many people.
If only I could have stopped it.
If only things could have been different.
If only …
I close my eyes tight and think of all the good things that have happened. Every happy memory has Denham in it.
The night we played roulette in the casino.
Our first date and the fountain.
Our evening dancing at the rooftop lounge.
Our first time. The time he locked us in the gym. The time on the roof.
The playing card … Every King needs a queen …
Pure, true, untainted happiness like I never thought I would be lucky enough to have.
***
“Arianna,” Jonny calls through the door, but his voice doesn’t sound right.
It sounds close yet distant. “Arianna,” he calls louder but it still sounds so far away.
I start to hear my pulse beat a little louder through my ears, and when I open my eyes, I have to blink several times to focus.
I’ve felt like this before, I recall the muted feeling.
I’ve been in control of every situation you’ve ever been in, even the ones you can’t remember yet … Stupid, beautiful girl …
And I start to remember. He came for me. He drugged me. He …
My head doesn’t allow me to think any further back.
I lean against the cold tiled wall and slide as carefully as I can manage to the floor.
My ribs are uncomfortable, but strangely numb, and my fingers start to tingle.
I curl up in a small ball, with the water pouring over my body, and thankfully I start to lose control of my thoughts.
My mind drifts to a time where I was happy.
I picture myself lying in Denham’s bed. He’s asleep, but we are facing each other and I reach my hand out to gently touch his stubbled jaw.
He smiles, because even in sleep, we made each other happy.
Such a small amount of time together, but such a big impact.
I picture his lips, and the way they kissed me.
The way he tasted. I can taste him … feel him.
There’s a bang, followed by another, then another. I try to open my eyes but they are too heavy. I hear wood splintering in the room around me. I’m too tired. Too tired to fight. Too tired to care.
So, with Denham as my last thought, I succumb to the pull of oblivion.
Freedom …
Escape …
Nothingness …