Helplessness. . . I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory of being dragged from my house. Of being thrown in my dad’s car. I grind my teeth in my discomfort, fighting the images. But they beat through me anyway. I fight them while watching him sleep, knowing he is beside me now. .. no longer angry at me.
Eventually, slumber returns to my reach.
Shoshanna
Present day
I wring my hair out,twisting the long dark tendrils until water seeps out and slides down my naked body. The RV is moving, but there is barely any jarring to its motion. I can feel the humming beneath my feet, but the drive itself is smooth and even.
Wandering back into the main area, I glance around the space before lingering on the bed. At the rope that lies beside it.
Warmth settles in my stomach.
I guess I like the rope too, Bronson, you nutcase.
Sighing, I think about how it wasn’t wrapped around my wrists when I woke up. Think about how he wasn’t beside me. I wish that didn’t bother me. Scooping up the shirt he wore yesterday, I pull it on.
Sitting on the couch, I draw the blinds back and notice we have left the rural outback and are moving through urban streets. I blow out fast, knowing my time to make a break for it looms, and for some reason I hate that I’m no longer without a choice.
But I need to get back to Akila.
All I have to do is hit him with the pan again, make a break for it, run to anyone in the street, tell them what happened. Then. . . well, then I call Perry. Shaking my head at myself, I sigh. Last night I truly accepted the burden of feeling trapped - tied to Perry by circumstance. . . not by love. The thought won’t leave now, having made a nest deep inside my resolve, where it wants to fester. But I don’t have time for it now; my sole focus needs to be on getting back to Akila not wallowing on what happens once I have. What does it all mean. . . Bronson and I and the Anubis tattoo and .. .I force those questions back -sheneeds me.
The thought knots my stomach.
The RV pulls into a service station, parking alongside a small playground. I jump to my feet and rush to the kitchen, grab the pan and clench it between my fingers. I squeeze it so tight, willing myself to keep it held high, ready.
I think about the needle going into my neck.
That crazy son of a bitch.
Think about waking up bound.
That crazy son of a bitch.
Think about him. . .think about the Anubis tattoo.
I place the pan back on the counter, my hand slowly slipping from it. When the door opens and he steps in, I am still blinking at the shiny cooking implement that was my weapon.
When I turn, he is standing tall and cool, eyeing me knowingly with a sideways smile that melts my heart. I step in front of the pan, in a completely inelegant and obvious way.
When he moves closer to me, I crane my neck to keep his line of sight. My breath gets caught in my throat as he leans forward, his body temperature like fire, his hand disappearing behind me. I think he is going to grab me and pull me to him, and I wait expectantly, closing my eyes.
Then his warmth leaves me.
My eyes snap open to find him holding the pan.
He offers it to me. “You might want to keep hold of this,” he says with a deep chuckle.
“I don’t need a pan to hit you,” I say straight away. My narrowed gaze is suddenly drawn to his torso. His broad masculine body is sporting a white t-shirt with a cartoon snowman with buck teeth and eyes too close together.
A Disney shirt.
Text scrawled across one chest says, ‘Olaf you a lot’.’ I cover my smile, but my eyes give the size of it away. “What are you wearing?” I say into my palm. I drop my hand, forcing my grin to yield. “Is he the silly little snowman fromFrozen?”
His chin rises with pride, his lips tick at one corner. “This is my favourite shirt, baby. And don’t call Olaf silly. He knows what loyalty is. What love looks like. And even though he might fucking melt, he still wants to know the warmth of the flame. He takes on an ice monster. . . Baby, the dude is a badarse.”
I stifle my smile once again.