Page 18 of Atonement

Eight hours after I could keep down plain water without vomiting, I ate half a piece of stale bread. No one had been shopping here for days. Did I need to go get groceries myself? Should I hire someone new? I shook my head. One way or another, I was leaving this place. I’d hoped it would be with Maddie under my arm, but now I had to admit the very real possibility it would be alone, possibly with more than one broken bone, if I left alive at all.

There were dozens of unreturned calls and voicemails on my phone, and upward of a thousand unanswered emails in my inbox. I ignored them all. I didn’t have the time to worry about what the company wanted me to do, not when my entire future hung in the balance. I turned on the news long enough to confirm Shawn’s body has been found and identified, then threw a half-empty water bottle against the screen.

“Help me,” I whispered to the silence of my empty house, but there was no reply.

This is pathetic. How many times was I going to allow Conrad to beat me down this way? Every part of me ached, my hand was in constant pain even with the brace on, and breathing through my nose was next to impossible. I’d had to leave my best friend’s body in a roadside ditch, the victim of his own good nature and desire to help an innocent woman avoid pain and abuse. Joshua was right; I had to kill him. But the concept couldn’t sit still in my mind; every time I tried to grasp it, it slipped away like a shadow in the corner of my eye. I stared at my bed, knowing what was hidden underneath—it somehow hadn’t been discovered during the search of my room. But I couldn’t bring myself to step that far off the cliff of my sanity.

I had to find another way out.

My phone buzzed, and I crawled across the carpet to where it sat atop my night stand. It had been dead for several hours while I was passed out, overloaded with incoming messages, but I plugged it in to make sure I didn’t miss any summons from my father. I couldn’t risk him hurting her if he asked me to come and I ignored him. I was just in time—the message was from him, unsurprisingly.

Conrad:Business to discuss. Come by for dinner.

To say that was an unusual command would be an understatement. We didn’t eat together as a family very often. I remembered eating dinner alone at the table as a middle schooler, doing my homework with one hand and quickly eating with the other, ready to retreat to my room at the first sound of footsteps approaching the dining room.

He had something big to show me.

My head reeled as I pulled myself to my feet, and I leaned one hand against the wall with the other over my mouth to keep from losing my stomach once more. I had to act normal for a few hours.

I shuffled to my closet, the wrinkled clothes hung carefully by Shawn mocking me as a reminder of the final favor he did me.

No clothes yet.I couldn’t face it. I’d shower and shave, then deal with the closet.

Clean and shaved, looking relatively human, I snagged some of the makeup I’d purchased for Maddie and tapped it underneath my eyes to hide the bags. I blinked at myself, surprised at the dramatic change.No wonder girls wear this stuff all the time. Then I went to dress. Socks, boxers, pants, a shirt. I looked almost presentable. I ran my fingers over the silk ties piled in the middle of the room, sorting through them before finding the correct one. Studying myself in the mirror, my armor as impeccable as I could make it, I knew it wasn’t my clothes that would protect me tonight. I had to be mentally stronger than ever before.

I’d already lost almost everything. There couldn’t be anything else.

Maddie

Even though I had resumed eating, my strength didn’t fully return. Three bowls of oatmeal a day didn’t provide nearly enough calories to sustain me for long periods of time, not to mention the lack of protein and fat. I pressed at my cheekbones as I stared at myself in the mirror, the weak light in the ceiling accentuating the shadows beneath my eyes and the hollows of my cheeks. How much longer could I live like this, without any hope of escape or rescue? I kept the key close, checked my room routinely for some secret space it could be used, but so far it had proved a meaningless gesture on Joshua’s part.

My oatmeal was sweeter, as if Joshua had started sneaking in a teaspoon of sugar. It was marginally easier to choke down, but I avoided all his attempts at conversation. He needed to stop trying so hard to be nice to me. He could get me out of here, if he wanted. He chose not to. It made him worse than Meyer, in my opinion. Beneath my anger at the man I loved was the fear that he was lying in a shallow grave, perhaps behind his house next to the puppy he’d buried so many years ago.

When Conrad came back, I barely had a chance to fight. I awoke as cold metal closed around my neck, heard the click of a latch snapping shut. I started thrashing before my eyes even opened, but a sudden pressure on my windpipe forced me to fall still.

“I always thought bitches made the best pets.”

My eyes cast down, I felt around my neck to find a tight metal collar, the cold metal quickly warming to my skin. The pressure on my windpipe returned as my hands reached around to the back and found a chain connected to the ring.

“What the fuck is this,” I whispered, half to myself, and flew backward off the bed and onto the floor with another tug. I groaned and swallowed around the growing sting, not just on the surface of my skin but deep inside my throat as well.

“We have another visitor today, and I want to make sure you behave yourself. Now stand.”

He yanked again before I could react, and I struggled to my feet to avoid more pain. The chain swung around to my front as he pulled me toward him, and I had no choice but to fall against his chest.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, a smile on his face as he stroked my hair. I pulled back, but all it earned me was another jerk.

“I’m not your girl,” I managed to grind out. The pressure on my throat was too much; I could barely speak around it. My wrists burned as I pushed against his chest with every ounce of my limited strength, but he held still.

“Maybe not yet. But you will be.”

I struggled to breathe as we stared at each other.I’m properly afraid now, Meyer, but you’re still not here.

“Walk with me, and maybe you’ll still be able to breathe by the time we get downstairs.”

My attempt to remain planted on in once place was met with more pulling, until I was at risk of being dragged across the floor by my throat. There was no real choice. I gave as much distance between us as I could, but though the chain was long he kept it pulled tight to his body. We nearly brushed as he led me down the stairs and into the same room as the day before. Everything in the same place. The air held the same musty smell of old books, cracked leather, and expensive alcohol. Unlike the other day, however, I immediately recognized the figure waiting for us at the other end of the room.

“Here she is, Meyer, as healthy and hale as the day you left her.”

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