Page 27 of Sinful
The night is much warmer than the night I got here, but still, the slight breeze has my nerves on edge and reminds me I don’t know where I am. I haven’t got the first clue what I’ll do if, by some miracle, I do manage to escape without falling to my death first. I can imagine the headlines now. Kidnapped heiress falls to her death on Manhattan sidewalk. My foot connects with something hard. Something for me to stand on. I drop down fully from the windowsill and edge my way forward, making sure I’ve not inadvertently ended up on a narrow ledge. When my hands touch the railing, I know I’m on a fire escape. Somewhere below me a car horn sounds, making me jump. My nerves are so raw that every little sound has me shaking. I feel around the fire escape for stairs. It’s so much bigger than I imagined it would be, with a table and chairs taking up most of the space. It’s not really a fire escape at all, but a balcony. Fear that I’ll not find a way down bites at me, but eventually I find a set of steps that lead downward. I take the first ones slowly, terrified that they will just end, but once I feel more confident, I run down them two at a time, gripping the railing as I go.
The thought of the three men finding me gone spurs me on, but with every step, I’m forced to consider what I’ll do when I reach the ground. I can’t go to the police. Everyone knows my face, even with Mercier’s make over. I’m not wearing any make up now, and though I do have the brown contacts in, it won’t be enough to make me unrecognizable. At least not for long. If the police find me, I may as well just hand myself back to my father or stay here at the mercy of Josh and his friends. I can barely breathe as all the options swirl around in my head. Each one was more horrific than the last. There is one more option. It’s terrifying, but it’s the option I’m going to take. I’m going to hide out for a while on the streets. Manhattan is home to plenty of homeless people. None of them will know who I am. Maybe they’ll take pity on me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living in a dumpster relying on people who can barely keep themselves alive to help me, but I will get stronger. I will learn to be independent. I’ve spent my life, dependent on another person. It’s about time I buckled up and learned to do things by myself. Then when I’m strong and the heat has died down, I’ll go and find what I’m looking for. My freedom.
I tell myself this as my feet leave the metal of the fire escape and hit concrete. A thousand smells accost my senses. The smell of warm food makes my stomach growl, but soon it fades and all I can smell is a nasty acrid smoky smell underlined with the faint tang of urine. I stand there paralyzed. It’s so noisy. Cars seem to be everywhere, revving their engines, honking their horns. My chest constricts and I can’t breathe with it all. I wonder if I’ve a mistake after all. Upstairs, I was warm, and I was being fed. Then I remember Josh’s anger, Dacre’s contempt and Mercier. I’m still devastated at how much my body reacted to what he did to me. To how much I liked it. Both times. I can’t let him have any control over me. Not anymore. Down here I’m free and the master of my own destiny. I follow the brick wall of the building, trailing my fingers along the rough exterior. I think I’ve come down at the back of the building because the car noise is coming from somewhere in front. I need to keep to the back streets and alleys, but not this one. I’m way too close if they decide to come and look for me... which they will. I’m a once in a lifetime paycheck to them. Once I’m far enough away, I’ll find a quieter spot. It sounds so easy when I say it in my head, but the panic is creeping in, threatening to turn into a full blown panic attack. I can’t make head nor tail of all the sounds and already I’m confused. Someone crashes into me, sending my fingers away from the wall, untethering me. I’m spun round as someone else bashes into me, sending me spiraling. I’m blind, not invisible, but it seems that no one can see me as I’m pushed and shoved from one place to another. The cars are getting louder and the confusing noises and smells are all spinning round in my brain.
I finally find a wall and lean against it, gripping it with my palms as my heart pound in my chest
Breathe, Goddamn it!
I want to press my thumb into my palm. I need the small pressure to tell me that I’m going to be alright, but I can’t seem to pull my hands away from the wall. It’s the only thing keeping me from floating away. My senses are overloaded and I need to ground myself to stop from melting down completely.
Someone else barges past, knocking one hand from the wall. I can’t stay here, but I’ve already forgotten the way back. I’ve been pushed around by people on the sidewalk so much that I’ve lost all sense of direction. I’m completely lost and absolutely petrified.
“Help me,” I sob out. I don’t even care if the three men find me anymore. I don’t even care if they throw me back to my father. Anything is better than this.
“Help!” I cry out again, but it’s as if no one hears my cries for help. I rush forward in a panic. My heart nearly combusts as car horns blare out and tires screech. I’ve stepped out into the road in my panic. Terror roils through me, but I keep running. Maybe getting hit by a car will be the answer to my prayers. Better dead than this. Better dead than anything.
Then it’s over. The cars have stopped blaring. Someone shouts out, asking if I’m okay, but it’s clear I’m not. I keep running. I’ve only gone a few feet before I crash into a low wall. In my desperation to be away from all the madness, I climb over it. On the other side, my feet hit soft ground. Grass. I keep running until the sound of cars and people are left behind.
23
DACRE
Lucinda is gone. I curse my stupidity as I gape at the open window. I had one job. Nix and Mercier left the apartment early in the morning to head back up to Uni. I stayed to watch her. Except I didn’t watch her. I assumed she was in her room and would venture out when she was hungry. Anger pulls at my cheek as I work out what to do next. Stupid bitch will probably have gotten herself killed by now. While that will solve any immediate problems, our long-term plans count on the money she’s worth.
Fuck!
I don’t have time for this shit. Letterman Industries have sent me work to look through already to get myself acquainted with what they do and I still have end of year shit to deal with at Uni. It’s bad enough that I’m missing precious days to babysit her, but now she’s gone and pulled this stupid stunt. I could let her go. Give her what she so obviously wants. If being found dead on the streets of Manhattan is her thing, then so be it. Not having her here will make my life so much easier and I have to admit I’m glad to see the back of her. She’s more trouble than she’s worth with Nix’s moping over her and Mercier drooling over her. The two are obsessed and ruled by their emotions. I don’t care that she’s superior pussy, but knowing how much money has literally gone out of the window is enough to make even me pause. Do I need thirty million dollars? Is screwing over my father really worth all this shit she’s putting us through?
Goddamnit. Without that money, I’ll end up in a flea pit hell hole before I even start my internship. I can’t count on my parents being away for much longer so this apartment will be off the cards by the time I do start.
Irritation causes pressure to build behind my eyes. Fuck it. I’m going to have to go find her. The window in her room is open and the obvious means of escape. She’s blind and famous. It never occurred to me that she’d try anything so stupid as climbing out of the window. I thought Manhattan would be enough of a jailor for her, but it seems I was wrong and she’s much more feisty than I pegged her to be. I follow her route, out through the window instead of running through to the living room and out through the French doors to the balcony. It’s dark and foggy outside, but there’s enough light coming through the living room windows to tell me she’s not just lounging on the balcony. I don’t want to look over the side, but I have to. Something compels me to look down onto Fifth Avenue below. Common sense dictates that if she’d fallen to her death hours ago, I’d know about it by now. But then again, this is Manhattan. It happens more than most people would think. She’s not down there. The streetlights would show the blood splatter. I take off down the fire escape, practically jumping from landing to landing. The stairs curve around the building and down the back into an alley. Rain lashes down on me, almost blinding me. Either way I run will take me to a busy road. I cannot get over the sheer gall of this girl. If I was blind, I’d be terrified. I circle the building until I get right round to the front. The concierge greets me as he always does with a friendly good morning.
“Hey man, did you see a girl around here? About five four, choppy dark hair... blind?”
It’s the longest of long shots, but like some long shots, it pays off.
He nods his head. “As a matter of fact, I did see someone matching that description last night. Just after I came on my shift. She almost went and got herself killed. Walked right into the road. I called out to her, but she ran into the park. Crazy. Blind, you say? What’s she doing out here all by herself?”
I toss a ten-dollar bill into his hand and take off across the road, dodging cars. It’s a miracle she survived.
I vault the low wall into Central Park. I can barely see three feet in front of me with the thickness of the fog. It’s like walking through gray gravy. If she’s in here, I may never find her. Someone who is blind will have the advantage over someone who is used to seeing. Central Park is almost three and a half kilometers square. I could spend all day searching for her and never find her.
I pass the summer house and keep going until I hit East Drive, one of the more well lit parts of the park. Even in this weather, there are plenty of people walking through. People insane enough to think that they won’t get mugged or worse, and those that are the ones that do the mugging... or worse.
Why did she come to the park in the middle of the night? Lucinda has spent half her life in Manhattan. Her father owns an apartment just a couple of blocks down from my parents’, which she has been photographed at more than once by the paparazzi. I can’t begin to comprehend her thought process, but I try to see it from her perspective. Sure, Mercier is a dodgy fucker and Josh has been an asshole to her, but we’ve not threatened her. Hell, she has all the food and shitty daytime TV she could want. Stupid bitch doesn’t know how good she has it. Most women would do anything to be staying in a Fifth Avenue Penthouse with the three of us. Still, she’s been acting the part of the strange little weirdo since we picked her up. Nix is right, there’s something off about her. Something that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I close my eyes and try to get a feel of what she must be thinking. The bright streetlamp light filters through my eyelids, so without opening my eyes, I walk away from the path into the dark. I don’t know if Lucinda can distinguish between light and dark, but here it’s also quieter. If I was her, I’d stick to the grassy parts under the trees. I rest my hand on a tree trunk and open my eyes. Thick fog impedes my view in every direction. The only light is back at the pathway. I don’t go back. I know she’s not that way. I walk silently through the trees, acutely aware I’m acting like a prowler.
It takes me an hour and thirty-seven minutes to find her. I almost miss her. I would have missed her if I’d not heard the muffled sounds of crying. She was curled in a ball in one of the tied up row boats on the small lake. On good weather days they are available to hire to tourists, but at night and in bad weather, they are tied up in a row at the lake’s edge.
She already knows I’m here by the time I see her. I expect her to try to run away. I wouldn’t put it past her to jump in the lake.
“Hey Lucinda. It’s me, Alexander... uh, Dacre. I’ve come to take you home.”
She flinches as I reach out to grab her hand to help her out of the boat.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
