Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Awareness slips in a little at a time, and I push back against it.
I don’t want to be awake. I don’t want to open my eyes to see his bedroom ceiling.
Not when I can stay in the dark where Troy holds me and kisses me, where we plan our life together.
It’s hard to believe I’d ever wish to be back at Hearth and Vine Farm, but I’d give anything to discover all of this was just a nightmare.
Troy would be standing over my mattress in my crumbling trailer, waking me to go dumpster diving with him.
We’d find a place to park under the stars, and he’d slip inside of me, as close as a woman can get to a man.
We were never caught and imprisoned by the Guardians of His Natural Order. I never ran away. Just take me back.
Reluctantly, I pull my eyes open, and my grandma’s voice echoes in my head. If wishes were horses beggars would ride. I never understood what it meant when I was a kid, but I do now. Wishes and prayers are useless, otherwise we’d all have what we want. I’m the only one who can save me.
The room is half lit by a lantern sitting on his dresser.
I’m alone, except for Clover, who lifts her head to lick my cheek.
“Hey, cutie. Want to help a girl out and chew through these straps?” I whisper, trying to keep myself from bursting into tears.
She shifts to rest her head on my chest. “I didn’t think so. ”
Okay, get it together. Whatever is in that vial doesn’t have the power to knock me on my ass the way the pill did.
While I feel a little high, I can think and plan.
At least I hope so. I need to pretend to be in a good mood since that’s when he seems to let his guard down a little.
Threatening and name calling won’t get me anywhere.
My bag still sits near the bathroom door.
I can’t see the side where the zipper is located to tell if it’s been opened.
I haven’t seen him touch it, but I was too far gone to know if he searched it when he brought me back here or if he just tossed it aside.
If I can get to the knife the next time he lets me loose to use the bathroom, maybe I’ll have a chance.
Alex enters a couple of minutes later and smiles when he sees me. “I was hoping you’d be awake. A truck from the electric company came by earlier. They said they’ll have us hooked back up by tonight.”
“That’s good news. What about the phone?”
“It won’t be too far behind, I imagine.”
He makes me feel half crazy, talking like everything’s fine, as if I’m not tied to his bed and half zombied from drugs. I do my best to play along. “Maybe we could watch a movie tonight if it’s back on early enough?”
“I hope so. Are you hungry? I put a lasagna in the oven. It’s a frozen one but they’re not bad.”
“Sounds good. I need to go to the bathroom.”
He unbuckles my restraints and stays close as I stand. I’m much steadier on my feet this time, but I still waver a little for his benefit. He needs to think I’m weaker than I am. If I can get to that knife…
I use the bathroom and he waits on the other side of the door as usual. One step outside of the door, I stop and bend down to open the bag. He grabs at me like he thinks I’m falling and pulls me back by my arm.
“The book I was reading is in my bag. I’d like to finish it.”
“Okay, let’s get you back to bed and I’ll bring your bag.”
It’s not like I have a choice. “Thank you.”
He isn’t taking any chances, putting me back in the restraints before scooping up the bag. Don’t look inside, please. If he leaves it with me, even cuffed, maybe I can saw through one of these straps with the knife or stab him next time he gets close enough.
After I’m secured, he places the water bottle where I can reach it, then puts my bag on my lap. “I’m going to go finish making dinner. Give me a shout if you need me.”
Yes, yes, yes. “Sure thing.” Go. Just get the hell out of here so I can get the knife.
Clover hops off the bed and follows him out of the room.
Excitement floods me as I grab my bag. The zipper is still torn but not stuck, and it’s clear why as soon as I open it. The knife is gone. Alex got the zipper open and found the knife.
It’s hopeless. Angry and frustrated, I shove the bag off the bed.
There’s no part of me that believes in gods or any sort of controlling entities, but sometimes it sure feels like the universe hates me.
Rage and despair play tug of war inside me, and I barely notice when Alex walks in with a tray of food.
He places the tray over my lap and picks up my bag from the floor. “Did you find what you were looking for?” The little smirk on his face scorches my blood. He knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly what I wanted from that bag. He’s amused and gloating that I didn’t outsmart him.
The hate I’ve held for Keeper, the governors and stewards over the years pales in comparison to how I feel about him right now. My attempts to save my life are funny to him. Cute, even. I could set him on fire without a single regret.
His question doesn’t deserve a response and doesn’t get one.
My hands are still restrained, but I can get my palms under the tray.
My anger is funneled into one hard push to send it over the side of the bed, splattering lasagna onto the floor.
Irritation flashes across his features for a moment before he reins in his expression.
He doesn’t want me to know when I’ve gotten under his skin. Control freak.
Neither of us says a word. Instead, he sighs and retrieves the vial and plastic dropper.
There’s no point in resisting. He probably loves when I struggle with him, when he can force me, so I take that joy away from him by looking him in the eye and opening my mouth as he approaches. It’s the small wins that keep us going.
He pulls Clover out of the room when she tries to eat the spilled food, and I watch in seething satisfaction while he cleans it all up. The sedative starts to invade, smoothing over the edges of my despair and pushing my rage to a distance.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks me, as if I’m a guest instead of a woman tied to his bed.
My only response is a silent stare. What’s the point of talking to him? What’s the point of any of it?
He sighs again, dims the lights, then walks over to get the tape player. “I’ll be back soon. What would you like to hear?”
I look him in the eye. “Play the tape you stole from me.” The vehemence in my voice is clear and strong despite the fuzziness of my vision.
For a long moment, he only keeps his gaze on mine.
Finally, he walks to the closet and returns with a clear cassette tape.
I get a quick glance at the small hand drawn heart on the label as it slides into the player.
I knew he took it. The necklace, the atlas, and the money are probably in that closet too.
Tears fill my eyes when music begins to play. Alex leaves the room and I lie back, letting them wet the pillow. The drug pulls me down into the dreamy darkness where my thoughts tumble and roll over each other like wax in a lava lamp, rising and falling.
The first three songs are the same that Troy recorded for me over two years ago, but we’ve since filled the rest of the tape with our favorites.
Every single one of them takes me back to the nights we spent together, some riding in the truck with the windows down and some lying on a mat, talking through a vent.
It didn’t matter where we were as long as I had him.
Play our song, sweetheart.
Did he know when he told me to run that we’d never see each other again? He couldn’t have known I’d end up here. If he’s alive, I hope he knows how hard I’ve tried and that I’m not done.
Until my last breath, I will fight to get back to him.
Instead of a deep sleep, I’m caught in a fractured doze, occasionally waking to see the darkened room and hear the music before slipping away again. It feels like forever before my head begins to clear.
The music has stopped when I open my eyes, and the light from the open bathroom door spills into the room. Alex wasn’t lying about the power being restored. He stands in front of the sink, brushing his teeth. I watch as he finishes and washes his face. Is he going to get into bed with me?
He didn’t the night before, at least as far as I know.
If I pretend to be asleep, will he leave me alone, or is this the night he takes what he really wants from me?
Men don’t keep women tied to their bed for company.
The fear and uncertainty are the worst part, not knowing why or what he intends to do to me.
The truth comes into focus, sharpening like a knife and piercing my chest as he pulls his shirt off. A stalk of wheat is tattooed over his heart.
I hear Troy’s words in my head, spoken in a little donut shop a lifetime ago. “Not all the Guardians of His Natural Order live at Hearth and Vine.”
I didn’t escape them after all. I’m sorry, Troy.