“Thank you, Ian.”
I opened the closet to see the clothes I’d brought from downstairs. Turning back to Ian, I asked, “Are you to stay here? Outside the door?”
“Considering...”
He didn’t finish as I grinned.
“I’m going to take some time to relax in a shower. Will you please supervise Thomas for the dead bolt and the shutters?”
“Of course, ma’am. The shutters may take a little longer.”
“The dead bolt is the first order of business.”
After collecting my robe, I entered the gleaming bathroom. As I did, I had a fleeting thought, wondering why the bathroom was so clean if this suite went mostly unused. Since I’d left this suite weeks earlier, the towels were clean and fresh, and the bath beads I’d brought from downstairs were already in the crystal bowl where they’d been when I first arrived. As I shed the clothes I’d worn downstairs to talk to Rett, I felt a strange sense of familiarity with my surroundings.
With the skirt and blouse upon the floor, I wished for the fireplace of the downstairs suite. I imagined throwing the two pieces of clothing upon the logs and watching as the flames consumed them. My mind told me I was doing everything I shouldn’t do in the case of an assault. Then again, Rett said it wasn’t an assault.
As I opened the shower doors, I noticed the lack of my wedding rings. They were last seen as Rett put them in his pocket.
Turning the temperature of the shower as high as I could tolerate, I stepped inside the glass enclosure. Loosening my braid, I allowed the hot liquid to fall over me. Much like needles prickling my skin, the sensation was both painful and liberating. Generous amounts of bodywash replaced the scent of Rett with the overpowering aroma of a fresh sea breeze. I grimaced at the tenderness of my scalp as I applied shampoo and later conditioner. It was as I again cleaned my perineum, I noticed the tenderness of my inner thighs. Under the bright lights, a reddish discoloration of my skin could be seen.
Perhaps it was the visual and tactile reminders that I needed to come to terms with my thoughts and emotions.
My knees gave out as I slid down the glass wall and lowered myself to the shower floor. Pulling my knees to my chest, I gave in to the flood of emotions that had been building within me. The falling water masked the sound of my cries as sobs racked my chest. My running nose and tears mixed with the shower’s spray, swirling on the tile floor and disappearing down the drain.
There was no sense of time as memories intertwined.
I recalled a warehouse I couldn’t see and a cool breeze I could feel—everywhere. My arms and legs were bound. I opened my eyes as I looked down at the faint white lines around each wrist and ankle. In my thoughts, I tried to get away, but even my mouth was gagged. The tones of the men beyond the blindfold taunted me as their words degraded me.
Despite their presence, I was alone.
My eyes opened to the shower stall, seeing the bright lights and shiny fixtures. However, upon closing them again, the space around me shrank. I reached for the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. I screamed and rattled the handle to no avail. Smoke entered under the locked door as I coughed and gagged.
Again, I opened my eyes, gasping for oxygen.
The heavy, humid air of the shower filled my lungs. Around me was steam, not smoke. Pulling my knees tighter to my chest, I laid my head back against the glass wall.
The scene behind my eyes morphed to Rett’s inner office.
I quickly stood, no longer able to combat the memories. I replaced them with thoughts of aspirin or perhaps a sleep aid. Turning off the water, I stepped from the hot stall out onto the soft bathmat and into the cooler air.
Wiping away the steam on the large mirror, I noticed that my reflection was more unnerving than it had been when I entered the bathroom. My hair was wet and clean, but hanging in twisted knots. I reached for a towel and wrapped it around my head. I dried myself with the second towel. As I did, I noticed that the combination of hot water and crying had left my flesh red and patchy.
A quick look at the sunken tub and I determined that I didn’t have the energy for a bath. Instead, I chose to check on the progress of the dead bolt. Securing my robe, I opened the door to the bedroom and was met with the tepid air-conditioned air mixed with the warm breeze from the opened ceiling.
As I turned toward the library, standing in the doorframe was the man I planned to keep locked out. His cold, dark stare settled on my eyes as his demand echoed through the suite.
“Talk to me.”
Emma
My head shook once before I tilted it toward the door to the hallway. The exhaustion and frustration racking my body and mind rippled throughout my words. “Leave, Rett.”
Reaching into the pocket of his pants, Rett removed my wedding rings. Placing them in the palm of his hand, he extended his hand my direction. “You forgot these.”
Instead of reaching for them, I began walking the other way, toward the door—the one that was supposed to be locked—and reached for the knob. Pulling the door inward, I stood silently. For only a moment, my gaze met Ian’s. In that same moment, it appeared Ian realized what was happening and with a slight bow, stepped away.
“Emma,” Rett said, coming my way.