And the orderly trailing behind me is probably going tom catch up to me any minute. The thought of being free pumps through my body and fills me with so much joy; it makes me pump my weakened legs harder.
It makes me run faster.
But the orderly is too fast.
He grips onto my waist, just outside of the entrance to the forest and tackles me. Digging his knees into my biceps and pinning me to the ground. “No!” I scream and try to move my arms. “NO!” Every time I try to more the orderly puts more weight on me. Digs his knees in deeper.
“And where did you think you were going?” his deep voice is laced with fake curiosity and I wish I had the use of my hands so I could swat at him. I try to spit at him, but his face is too far away from mine. He laughs when a wad of my spit lands on my cheek. He leans over and his stale breath wafts up my nose. “You want to know something?” A second later, he licks my spit off my cheek, swallows it and places his moist lips against my ear. “I’ve always had a thing for brunettes.” There’s finality in his tone and I know deep down in my gut something bad is going to happen.
I buck beneath him as he repositions himself and then I hear him say his brooding, heavily accented voice, “Not yet, sweetheart. I know you’re anxious, but patience is a virtue.”
Inside I’m panicking, but I’m determined not to show. There are insects running laps through my nervous system and there is parasite of fear attached to my spine. I need help. I need help.
But we’re a half a mile away from Oakhill.
With terrified eyes I glance at the orderly. He’s at my feet, removing his shoe laces to tie me up. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Out of nowhere, I hear a grunt. The orderly grunts and slumps over in pain. He’s awake so that won’t give me much time.
But what happened to him?
I get to my feet and my eyes widen. My fear and panic is replaced with a throbbing pain that circulates through my heart. “Mommy,” I whisper, tears brimming in my eyes.
Monique.
My mommy.
She stands next to orderly, her violet eyes pierced with worry and anger. She glares down at him, her pale cheeks flushed. “Fly away little bird,” she says. Her voice is soft yet chilling. “Fly away.”
Mommy doesn’t have to tell me twice. I flap my wings and take off through the trees, into the shadows, and the dead of the night.
Chapter Twenty Eight
~After~
Months have passed.
Elijah opens up to me a little more every day.
And he’s so different when he opens up. It’s like the terrified child locked in the dark closet of his brain is finally able to come outside and play in the light. When I see him happy, it makes me happy. And I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Mainly because Daddy always had a way of cutting my happiness short in the past. Or making sure it didn’t exist at all.
Elijah and I are leaving for the beach today. He’s full of surprises. I think he’s trying to make up for all of the time we both lost as children.
I stand in his study and point to the watch on my wrist. We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago and have been put behind because he’s been on the phone for the last forty five. He holds up his finger, telling me it will only be another minute and I walk around the right side of his desk. I brush my fingertips over a newspaper, the article on the front page jumps out at me and I slide the paper closer to me. There are flames on the front page. Muted gray and black flames. There was a fire somewhere. My eyes sweep over the picture, but just when I start reading the article, Elijah comes up behind me, breathes down my neck, and his hands slip around my waist. His lips are against my ear and his nose nuzzles my hair. “You smell wonderful.” He takes a deep breath. “Is that the shampoo I bought?”
“Yes. The lavender shampoo.” I told him about my ritual with mommy when I was a child and he went a little crazy with all the lavender scented perfumes, lotions, and shampoos after that. But I don’t mind. Especially because I love the scent so much.
His hands slide up the back of my beach dress and he grips my waist. “I want you so bad right now.” His words rumble in my ears. “Can’t the beach wait another hour?”
“I suppose,” I whisper. I think about how bad I want him too.
I think about his hands all over me, touching and car
essing my bare skin. I think about his mouth in sacred places. And his body fused to mine as we call out each other’s names. I love it when Elijah and I make love. Because he makes love in different way than Damien did. Not that I didn’t love making love with Damien, but Elijah is more manly about it. More aggressive. Damien was always so gentle. He treated me like a china doll and he always asked me if he was hurting me. Sometimes I think he thought he was going to break me.
In one swift motion, Elijah scoops me up, positioning my legs around his back. Then he takes his right arm and clears the desk before lying me back on it. He unbuttons my dress slowly.
One.