“Buddha, go, get out of here…” I scream, but he sits down at the side of the bed panting then hops up to put his front paws on the edge of the bed, licking my face.
I do everything I can to try to shift my body and get my feet on the floor, but it’s useless. My grandfather bolted my bed to the floor when I was little so it wouldn’t move around when I jumped on it.
I’m stuck, with smoke beginning to fill the room, choking me, and the flicker of flames growing nearly to the ceiling in a long single strip, popping and sparking as it rips through the old wiring in the wall.
As dry and old as this house is, it will be consumed in a matter of minutes.
All the hope and possibilities I’ve enjoyed the last week cascade over me, and I wonder what I could have done to deserve this final chapter. What it means and—
“What the fuck?”
I cough and sputter, wondering if I’m losing consciousness, and the words reverberate through the small room. I twist my head to see Marshall coming through the bedroom door with the fire of hell in his eyes.
“I’m sorry…” It’s all I can think to say as he’s next to me in an instant. Marshall runs his hands down my arms, assessing my situation.
“Don’t be sorry. Do you know where the keys to the cuffs are?”
I shake my head as Marshall lifts my arms, and I scream in agony. “My shoulder!” I dart my eyes from him to where the pain is. “I think it’s dislocated.”
“Jesus.” Marshall runs a hand down his face, and the room clouds by the second, the heat already becoming unbearable. “Hold on, baby. I’m going to get you out of here, just hold on.”
Marshall grabs the backpack and dumps the contents on the floor. I see a ball gag, ankle cuffs and a few other items, but I don’t care about that. My eyes sift through the contents as Marshall unzips all the pockets, shoving his hand into each but coming up empty.
“His pants!” I say, coughing on the smoke. “Look through his pants.”
Marshall reaches for the khakis on the floor and drives his hand into the front pocket, then the next.
“Yes!” He spins a small silver key in his hand and comes around behind me.
A moment later, there’s a soft click above the crackling of the fire growing up the wall. There’s a release of pressure from my wrists as Marshall gently moves my arm to my sides, the fiery pain still there as he picks me up and carries me to the door.
“Buddha!” I scream and see out of the smoke the fat brown and black face following close behind.
Finally, outside, my stomach is clenched and my throat is raw, but I look up at Marshall and know we have to do what is right.
“Carver. He’ll die in there.”
“I don’t give a shit. He deserves to die.”
“Please, that’s not justice. Try, just try to pull him out. He’ll get what’s coming to him. I don’t want to live knowing we left him in there to burn…”
Marshall looks to the sky, then at the house. The smoke plumes from the bedroom window, flames engulfing the whole of the wall.
“Please,” I say. “At least try if you think you can. If it’s still safe.”
He doesn’t say anything else but takes off at a run for the front door. My heart is in my throat watching him go, wondering if I’ve made the right choice. What if I’m left alone, without him, for the sake of a scumbag like Carver? I feel the tears sting my eyes and blink them away, grabbing Buddha with my good arm, pulling him close.
A minute later, Marshall reappears, dragging Carver’s unconscious body out the door and off the porch, his head knocking on each step. He drops the lifeless-looking body a safe distance from the house then gives him a kick in the ass before speeding to my side and dropping to his knees. “He’ll live,” he says, though there’s no pleasure or relief in his words. “You okay, baby?”
“Yes, call 911 please. For the house…and…” I tip my head towards Carver. “Him. I might have killed him. I slammed his head into the nightstand.”
Marshall is already bringing his phone to his ear but reaches down to run a hand down my hair.
“You are something, little one. Never go down without a fight.”
Buddha flops over next to us on the ground, his head on my leg as Marshall makes the call, and then the three of us huddle together and wait.
Fifteen
Marshall
“OUCH,” I POUT AS MARSHALL lays me back on the pillows.
Buddha lifts his head off the floor giving Marshall a dirty look.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He looks like he’s just killed a puppy, reaching up to cup my cheek, and I swear I see tears brimming in his eyes. I can’t do it any longer.