Page 21 of In You
I turn with a gasp to see Caleb leaning a shoulder in the threshold of the hallway, watching me silently with a stoic look on his face. He raises an eyebrow, but keeps his distance. He jerks his head to the bathroom, his dark eyes steady on me. "I'll clean it up," he says in a gruff voice. "Go on and lock the door if it'll make you feel better, alright? I won't come in unless you need me to help you. You're fine."
I don't feel fine.
I feel like one wrong look and I'll be a broken mess on the floor along with this vase, with no hope to be put together ever again.
I take a hesitant step towards the bathroom, and when I make it through the door, so does the poodle, slipping between my feetwith a little high pitched yap. I lock the door and turn to face my reflection in the round mirror above the sink. Bloodshot eyes, hair half-down and half-pinned up, my left cheek is slightly red from where he slapped some sense into me earlier.
My eyes go lower to take in my pretty orange patterned dress. That's all the Captor wanted me to wear; dresses, like I'm a fifties housewife. I zero in on the chocolate smear staining my left breast, and feel my face pinch up. I sniff as I suddenly feel like I'm being waterlogged. My head gets stuffy in a way that doesn't have to do with the drug Caleb gave me, and my lips quiver as I realize I'm looking at the last remnants of my life with the Captor.
Who I thought at one time was the love of my life, but he turned out to be my worst nightmare.
This dress, those pins in my hair, and that chocolate smear on my chest is all I have left of that time of my life.
And my memories.
Sliding down the door, I land on my butt gracelessly and sniff as a different kind of tears fall down my cheek now. The poodle crawls into my lap, and makes her way up my body until she licks at my tears, giving me comfort. God, I wish I could feel it. I wish I could feel something other than fear and despair.
An ugly sob escapes my lips, and I press a hand to my mouth to muffle it and let myself cry, and she licks every tear away as I shatter to pieces.
8
Mistakes Were Made
Caleb
Okay,sothatprobablywasn't the best judgement call on my part, getting her flowers. I thought it'd make her feel safe, give her something pretty to look at, but obviously I know jack shit nil about women.
Especiallythiswoman.
Seeing her disappear through the bathroom door, the first thing I do is call Colin as I head to the utility closet to grab a broom, a dustpan, and a mop.
"Hey, man, it's late," he answers. "What's up?"
"Hey, I don't have much time to talk. Listen, I uh…I need some help."
"You okay?" Colin asks.
"Not exactly…" I hesitate, really not wanting to get into this with Colin, but I need the reference he can give me. "I need the name of that psychiatrist friend of yours. The good one."
"Alexander?"He whistles. "Fuck, you’re finally going to get some help, huh? I'm proud of you."
That takes me aback. "What?" I scoff irritably. "No,motherfucker-"
"Oh-"
"It's not for me, but it's still just as important, if not more. Can you send me his contact information, and then let him know I'm going to be calling him? It's urgent."
"Sure, man. I'll have it to you right away." He pauses, and I peek my head around the hallway, seeing the bathroom door firmly shut. "You know Caleb, I really think you should look into trying to get back into therapy about…you know. It's not good that you're leaving that untreated."
I head quietly down the hall, feeling my chest tug when a muffled sob comes through the door, distracting me, and my dead heart tugs again for this beautifully damaged woman who I wish to God I could pack up and take to the hospital. The lastthing she needs is another person holding her captive. But I can't let her go.
She's seen me. Knows what I've done.
Self-preservation, along with something else I can't quite name, flickers high and unyielding inside of me, throwing me off-center.
"No time for that now. Thanks for your help. Talk to you later." I hang up with Colin and then work to pick up the flowers and glass, being careful to not cut myself. I stay as silent as possible, not wanting her to feel like I'm eavesdropping. I stop in the middle of mopping as a thought hits me. It's depraved, but I couldn't care less right now.
I just need to see.
