Page 52 of Where We Found Our Home
Say no more.I toss her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom.
“See, that’s some Khal Drogo shit. Oh look, I still had one in me.”
We’re lying in my bed, her legs draped over mine, her arm wrapped around my waist, and her face pressed against my chest. Her natural orange and vanilla scent surrounds me, putting me under her spell. I move a piece of her hair off her face. She stirs but just barely. I’m in fucking trouble.
I’m falling for this girl. Hard.
It terrifies the ever-loving shit out of me. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I put my heart on the line once, and it ended in tragedy. But I know I’ll regret it ten times more if I let her go now.
Ciara
Iwipe my sweaty palms against my slacks as I step out of my car. After the day I had yesterday, I’m not looking forward to being back at the office today. I’m so tired of the police in this city. I don’t know how else to prove to them that it’s him doing this to me. Who else would it be? I spent hours at the police station yesterday trying to file a complaint after I received yet another dead rat delivery to my mom’s house. They assured me that they’re “looking into it,” but as a black woman in Baltimore city, I’m not confident in their assurances at all.
The street is eerily quiet, but that’s not unusual for me since I normally come in earlier than most people. As I turn the corner to the last stretch of street before my office building comes into view, I feel uneasy. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I dart my eyes around the empty street, but I don’t see or hear anyone. I pick up my pace, and all I hear is the click of my heels against the pavement. I probably look crazy hustling down the street, but I don’t care. I’ll breathe easier once I step inside the confines of the building.
Oof.
A large, scarred hand wraps its way around my waist and yanks hard. I yelp, but his other hand slaps across my mouth so hard it stings. I scream into his hand, but the wind absorbs it until it’s nothing more than a whisper.
He leans down to whisper in my ear, the stench of cigarettes potent. “You’ll never get away from me. Don’t you know that by now?” His voice triggers my fight or flight response. My brain races into overdrive, and I do everything in my power to release myself from his hold. I thrash around, but his grip only tightens. I drive my heel deep into his foot, and he cries out in pain, giving me a window. I rip free from his hold and take off running and screaming, but he’s on me in seconds.
“Stop fighting the inevitable,” he growls. I’m searching frantically for any sort of weapon I can grab. Anyone I can call for help, but there’s nothing. No one. He squeezes my shoulder so hard I can feel the bruise forming already. I manage to elbow him in the gut, but he only stumbles for a split second before I feel the pain against my skull. What did he hit me with? Whatever he used was hard and heavy. My vision is already doubling, and I feel myself going under. I try to fight it, but it’s no use.
I come to and I’m in a tight, dark space. My hands are tied in front of me. My legs are bound too. Fuck. I have no idea where he’s taken me, but I can tell I’m in the trunk of a car and we’re not moving. I do a quick search around the trunk looking for anything I can use to cut myself free. I need to be ready to fight when he opens this trunk. If I don’t, I’m as good as dead. There’s nothing here but me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Don’t panic. I will survive this. I scream and rock my body back and forth, but I don’t hear any noise outside. No footsteps, no voices, nothing. Minutes, or maybe hours—I’m honestly not sure—go by. He hasn’t come back for me. Is this his grand plan? Leaving me here to run out of air God knows where? Right as the thought enters my brain, my chest starts heaving in panic. My throat feels tight. The air around me is thick.
“Help me!” I scream, using every bit of my strength to bang my constricted hands and feet against the top of the trunk. Time is running out. I don’t have the strength to lift my limbs anymore. My throat is too dry to scream. A single tear falls down my face.
I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry, girls. This isn’t how I wanted this to end, but maybe it’s better that it’s over. I love you.
When I wake up, tears are streaming down my face. Lincoln’s arms are wrapped around me tightly. I try to pull away, but he pulls me in tighter. I can’t help but laugh at the fact that his tight embrace feels comforting to me. Safe. He looks so peaceful in his sleep. I lean over and kiss the bottom of his chin. His mouth tips up in a smile but he remains asleep.
Usually after one of these nightmares, I’m inconsolable. But in Lincoln’s arms, I feel like I might make it out of this.
I might be okay.
Eddie
You seem to have forgotten about me, doll. You and that Lincoln have just been walking around town like the perfect couple. You seem so happy.
You have some nerve.
Every day you’re at that damn coffee shop with your laptop, and every night you’re working at that bar. Every free moment you have, you’re with him. You’ve become so predictable. It’s sad. I expected better from you, but you’ve proven to be nothing more than a disappointment.
I’ve given you too much power over me lately. I don’t deal with fire. And yet, I’ve set countless fires since being here to keep your little boyfriend busy. That’s not how our arrangement is supposed to work, doll. You’ve forgotten your place.
I think it’s time I reminded you who’s really in charge here. I was going to wait a little longer to announce my presence, but you’ve become far too comfortable.
Watching your pupils dilate at the sight of me will be my reward. Watching the color drain from your face will charge me for days to come. Your pain fuels me.
I know exactly where you’ll be in one hour. It’s time for our long-awaited reunion. Get ready.
Ciara
The last month with Lincoln has been a dream. He’s truly my best friend. I think I’ve told him more than I’ve told Sasha and Nina, and I’ve told them almost everything. Everything but the most important detail—the real reason I moved here in the first place.
I haven’t felt like I’m being watched in weeks. I’m really finding my groove here. If only I could stop the recurring nightmares, I’d be golden.
