Page 4 of With Love

“You’re going to have to eat something if you want to get your strength back enough to be able to leave here.”

“Why? It’s not like I have anywhere to go when I leave. Or am I just supposed to wait for Lock to come and pick me up, take me home, and kill me?”

Now it’s my turn to wince.

“He will never get close to you again. I swear on my life.”

The skeptical look on her face has me wishing that I had all of the correct words and right things to say at this moment. But I don’t. Far from it. What do you say to the person that you love most in this world, after they were taken from you, tortured and abused for the last three years, and you could have prevented it from happening?

Although I don’t want to continue talking about him, I do have to impress upon her how much more danger she is in the longer that we stay here. I need to get her to agree to leave with me. I refuse to do it by force as he did. But I’m not above scaring her into it.

“Adrienne, I know that you’re scared. I know that you don’t trust me. You have every reason in the world to be hesitant, but I need you to understand something. We need to get you out of here before he figures out where you are and comes for you.” She tenses visibly at my words.

“I’m not trying to trick you. I don’t want to hurt you. I know that you think it’s a lie, but you are my wife, I do love you, and I am going to prove that to you if it’s the last thing on this earth that I do.”

* * *

Adrienne

The voices in my head are at war with one another, and it is brutal.

On the one hand, the terror I feel when I think about Lock coming here to bring me home; when I think about what he will do to me when he gets me there, leaves me utterly paralyzed in fear.

On the other hand, I am still extremely scared and very wary of Marshall as well. True, he has had several opportunities to take me over the last few years. To hurt me, to kill me, but he’s never acted on any of it. Sure, right now we’re in a public setting. He isn’t stupid enough to try and do something with all these people around. What will happen if I go with him willingly though? Will I really be safe with him? What if he is just a wolf in sheep’s clothing? The next Ted Bundy.

“Give me one good reason that I should trust you.”

He walks over to the side of my bed, drops to his knees, and takes my hand in his. He looks down for a moment. I can hear his breath hitch as he tries breathing deeply. When he looks up at me, when I look deeper into his emerald gaze I’m hit with a powerful feeling of déjà vu.

“I will lay my life down for you without one thought or hesitation. I will die before hurting you in any way. I will die before someone else gets another chance to hurt you. I will prove to you that we are meant to be together. I will prove to you that, once upon a time, we were as happy and in love as two people could be. If it’s the last thing on Earth that I do, I will prove to you that I am 100 percent completely and irrevocably in love with you.”

I think about each word that he just said. They don’t move me, though they should. Though I want them to. I feel so fucked up, like my soul is past the point of redemption. After Lock, how bad could anything be? Does it really even matter? I think about this for a few minutes before speaking again.

“When do we get to leave?” I ask him.

Relief flushes over his face at the same time that tears begin to find their way through the five o’clock shadow on his jawline.

“As soon as you’re ready. We can get a makeshift hospital room set up at home for you until you’re all healed.”

“It’s your home,” I say.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, confused.

“You said ‘at home’. It’s not my home or our home. It’s your home.” His eyes catch mine, an affronted look apparent on his face.

He nods his head at me and I lay my head down and close my eyes.

“Just let me know whenever you’re ready.” He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. Within moments, I am pulled into a deep, restless slumber.

* * *

Later that night, I wake to a heated, but hushed conversation in the hallway outside of my hospital room. One of the voices belongs to Marshall. I’m not sure who the other man is, but I can tell he’s not happy.

“She is my wife and I want her out of here and away from danger as soon as possible! You know what kind of person Finch is; what he’s capable of.”

“Marshall I understand, but what is most important right now is getting Adrienne healthy enough to be able to leave. That laceration on her thigh required over almost 50 stitches, and her ankle is sprained. She has a sprained arm and she took a really hard hit to her head when the plane hit the ground. Between all of that and the restricted lung capacity and her bruised ribs, I wouldn’t recommend her leaving for another week, at a minimum.”

He must be my doctor. I hear a deep sigh before Marshall speaks again.

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