Page 22 of Echo
Iwokeuptofind Mark draped over me. One hand held my wrist in a bruising grip to make sure I didn’t escape. The sun wasn’t up yet, but I needed out of his grasp.
I gently twisted my arm and scootched out from under him. His touch made me want to gag. He woke up with a loud breath and a menacing, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“The animals need to be tended to.” Which wasn’t a lie, but more importantly, I wanted to be away from him.
“You have to earn your freedom.”
Yeah, I knew the drill. Nothing got done until he got off. I let my mind float away for the three minutes it took or so, and didn’t really let my mind wake up, until I was in the bathroom washing my face.
I should have fought, but sometimes I had to pick my battles. All that battle gave me was a slap to my dignity and a loss on my roster. I was suddenly glad I couldn’t see the scars from the stitches I’d gotten on my back, when he shoved me into that glass coffee table.
Because I’d called him a liar to his face and refused to have sex with him.
I wasn’t sure which part got under his skin more. The fact I saw through his carefully orchestrated show or that I said no pussy.
Maybe both together was too much for his fragile ego to bear.
I needed to tread carefully. He had connections and power. He could kill me here and he’d been long gone before someone showed up looking for honey. Or he would actually have me institutionalized. I preferred to get out of this without either of those things happening.
Honey.
Rinah farm was most known for its honey. I’d found some equipment in the barn, but I hadn’t seen any sign of bees.
Yeah, that would keep me far away from him today.
Goal one, find the bees.
Goal two, find some way to get Mark to leave of his own volition.
I cleaned up, got dressed, then fed the animals and myself before trekking into the woods behind the garden, with my trusty sidekick at my heel. Figuring that was the best place to keep the bees so they could pollinate the flowers and fruits.
While I searched, I let my mind wander.
How did I get Mark to let me go? I called him out on his bullshit. I called him a liar. I refused to cook. I didn’t really contribute to the sex. My dog hurt him. What did I have to do to make him release his grip on me?
I wasn’t even in his social bracket for money or looks. I liked to think I was pretty, but lots of big titty bitties would love to swallow his bullshit and anything else he might offer, in return for the life he could give.
Why did he latch onto someone who saw right through him when he seemed to hate it?
Hell, when we met at the bar I worked at the time, I’d called him a liar to his face, when he tried to sell me shit he’d already sold to three other women throughout the night. He’d laughed and given me his number and a two hundred dollar tip.
Why would he ask me out when he already knew he couldn’t fool me?
Then again, I guess he did.
He was good natured and patient until he moved in with me, after a year of dating. That’s when his demons really showed themselves. Didn’t take even a month after that. Then I wasn’t so amusing anymore.
I walked in a giant circle around the property for what felt like hours, when I finally came across an area where the ground was salted so nothing would grow. A large circle with a fire pit directly in the center. With another shield knot welded into the side of the giant pit. I toed the salt and found it went several inches down, as if someone was building an artificial beach without sand. The circle was ringed with those black rocks Pearl loved so much.
Maybe my family really was mentally ill.
I went up to the fire pit and found a burned blanket inside. I frowned at the knitting. Shield knots lined the fabric, which wasn’t too weird. Grandma Ruby said it was common practice in the family to keep any impure spirits from bothering the children. It swaddled them in protection, so any monsters under the bed couldn’t disturb their sleep.
But the remnants showed that a M with the rest of the name burned off and Valentine was under it. I pressed my lips together.
Valentine was my father’s name.
Why the fuck was my childhood blanket, that Grandma had clearly made for me, all the way out here? And why did someone try to burn it?
