Page 19 of In You
"Please don't k-kill me. You saved me from him!" I beg, pleading for my life. "Please, I need to go to the police, Calvin has kept me here for a year-"
He moves quickly, and at the look on his face I stop talking as a funny sensation slides across my skin and makes my eyelids heavy. I blink once as my head lolls to the side when the dark haired man becomes men who begin to swim in my vision, and then the next thing I know, everything goes black.
I can't stand drugs, though some pain medicine for my broken hand would have been nice. So, when I wake up sometime later, wrapped up in a red and black checkered fleece blanket, in the living room of a house I'd never been in before, I freak out at the stuffy, tight feeling in my head.
I whine, putting my fingers to my head and closing my eyes against the glare of the lights. When I open them back, everything blurs before coming back into focus. I sniff and turn my head, looking straight into the eyes of a white haired poodle with a pink bow and a bloodhound.
My jaw drops I'm so shocked.
I've never owned a dog before, and while the poodle looks harmless, the bloodhound gives me pause. If I scream and scare him, he might bite me. My bladder screams at me for relief, and my broken hand still throbs, so I must not have been out too long.
I fight with the cover to free myself. Adrenaline courses through me, and I can see that where I'd thought the lights were bright before, they're really not. They're soft and warm, giving the place a gentle feel.
"Don't move too much," a deep voice sounds out, startling me. "You need to give yourself a minute longer to come out of it."
Scared, I tuck myself back into the blanket, nestling deep against the back of the couch as the dark haired man comes into focus. He sits relaxed in a leather chair opposite where I sit, with a crystal glass of what looks to be maybe whiskey clutched in his hand. It's a small amount, letting me know he'd been drinking. His eyes look tired, his five o'clock shadow is thicker across the angle of his jaw, and his dark eyes bore into mine so intensely that I work to wiggle deeper into the couch.
I stare, my heart beating in my chest so hard that it's a wonder he doesn't hear it. I'm confident the dogs do, though.
"Who are you?"I ask in a shaky voice.
"My name is Caleb."
My mind races, because I'm pretty sure I remember him being introduced as Lance. "I thought your name was…w-wasLance,"I stammer.
"No, my name is Caleb." When I stare silently, he tilts his head. "And your name is Camilla."
I don't know where the nerve comes from, but it comes from deep down inside. "My fucking name isTamryn,"I spit out, shocking myself.
He smiles nice and slow, causing my heart to flutter for a different reason other than fear. "I thought so," he says in a calm voice. "Tamryn Saunders, you disappeared a year ago. Former medical coder for St. Lukes hospital, lived in a one bedroom apartment, your mother passed on Father's day a year and three months ago. No father on your birth certificate. A woman vulnerable with no family to look for her. An easy target. A victim."
How dare he?
My lips tremble. "Don't call me that," I bite out. "Don't you fucking call me a-"
"A victim?" He tilts his head, piercing me with his dark brown eyes. "Tamryn, you're going to have to face what happened head on. It's the only way you're going to get through it."
My eyes flick back to the dogs before wandering the area we're in. My fingers clench in the blanket as I take in the beautifully decorated but simple den. There's a huge bull skull hung above the flickering fireplace bringing my focus to the ceiling. Thick brown beams arches in five foot sections that span across the entire room. Lamps glow, dotted strategically throughout the room. It's comfortable, but I know better.
Calvin's home was at one time comforting to me, too.
"I want to go home," I say in a shaky voice, bringing my eyes warily back to his.
He sucks down the little bit of alcohol in his glass and plunks it on the end table next to him, crossing his ankle over his leg and setting his wrist loosely over his knee before putting those haunted-looking dark eyes back on mine. I wish I could fucking be as relaxed as he seems to be.
"Right now I'm sorry to tell you that you have no home. And even if you did, I wouldn't let you go. You've seen what I look like, and you've seen what I've done. You are a loose end, and because of that, I can't let you go."
I stare stupidly. "You can let me go."
"It's either you stay here, or I kill you." His brow pulls low. "Take your pick."
He's going to kill you anyways…I swallow thickly. "I think…I think you're going to kill me anyways."
"No." He shakes his head, his eyes flickering down my huddled up body curiously before snapping back to mine. "I do not desire to kill you. I went through too much to save someone tonight. It happened to be you, and it'd break my heart to kill you. So, grant me this tiny mercy, please, and stay."
Break his heart?
My eyes stay tight on his, searching.
