Page 74 of The Sweet Spot
He brushes my hair back. “How else could I get your undivided attention?”
“Certainly not this way!” I struggle against the ropes out of sheer frustration, but I only hurt myself in the process. My wrists are burning now from fresh abrasions.
“If you don’t stop hurting yourself, I’ll have to knock you out again for your own good. Is that what you want?”
Immediately, I stop. “No! Please, don’t.” I’ll have zero chance of getting free if I’m unconscious.
He nods. “Good. If you behave, I won’t have to.”
I try another tactic. “Why did you bring me here?”
“To convince you to marry me again. Why else? We never should have gotten divorced in the first place. That was my fault for signing those damn papers. But we’re going to fix this. We’re getting married.”
“Why do you want to marry me again?”
“It’s the only way to claim what’s mine. Everything you have should belong to me,” he says matter-of-factly. “This is about fairness. You were my wife, and what’s yours should be mine—your inheritance from your grandpa, the house, the diner. All of it.”
“I already explained to you—Grandpa died after we got a divorce, so you’re not entitled to that. And the house and diner legally belong to my grandmother.”
“Yeah, but you’ll inherit all that when she passes, which probably won’t be long from now given the state of her health.” He shoots to his feet and starts pacing beside the bed. “What you don’t understand, Jennie, is that youoweme. Ever since the divorce, my life has gone to pot, and it’s all your fault. My parents disowned me because of your stupid allegations in the divorce. I neverabusedyou, and you know it.”
“I’d say my bruises and broken bones proved otherwise.”
“Those were all your fault, and you know it.” He scowls at me. “After you humiliated me with your lies and accusations, I moved to Vegas for a fresh start, and what money I had left atthe time, I lost. All of it. Not just in the casinos, but betting on everything from sports to car races to horses. I owe people money, Jennie. Powerful people who are going to hurt me if I don’t repay them. And that’s where you come in. You’re going to marry me and sell everything—the house and the diner. All that money, plus your inheritance, will more than pay off my debts. And then you and I will go somewhere far away, where no one knows us—Mexico maybe, or Thailand—and we’ll start over. Just the two of us. Newlyweds again.”
He returns to sit on the side of the bed, seemingly more upbeat now. I think he just managed to convince himself that his plan is sane and rational.
He cups my face and brushes his thumb over my lips. “We’re going to be happy, Jennie-bean, I promise.” And when he leans down to kiss me, I turn my face away, and his lips end up glancing off my cheek.
He pats my thigh. “You’ll come around, baby.”
I glance past him, unable to stand looking at him, and notice a stockpile of weapons on the small kitchen table. I see what looks like semi-automatic rifles, handguns, and even hand grenades. There are boxes and boxes of ammo. He’s prepared to wage war against anyone who tries to stop him.
He notices where my attention is. “Yeah, no one is coming between us again, baby. No one. Especially not that fucking cop of yours. If he comes near this cabin, he’s a dead man. I’ll blow his head right off his shoulders.”
He gets up then and sits at the table to organize his stockpile of weapons. “You hungry, baby? I’ve got some protein bars around here somewhere.”
His mood shifts are giving me whiplash.
He’s truly insane.
When Chris comes, which he will—I know it!—I need to warn him. Not only is David dangerous because of his delusions, but he’s well armed.
* * *
“Do you have any water?” I ask sometime later. I am loath to engage him in any type of conversation, but I’m desperate for some water to cool my burning throat.
“You’re in luck,” he says as he sets a metal bucket on the table. “When you were napping earlier, I walked down to the stream for water.”
Napping?I was kidnapped and drugged, and he thinks I’ve beennapping?
This is classic gaslighting. If only I’d understood the term narcissism before I agreed to marry him. I could have saved myself a lot of pain and suffering.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing myself to smile at him. Showing him how I really feel won’t win me any points. “I’m really thirsty.”
“Sure, sure,” he says as he grabs a ceramic mug from one of the open shelves in the kitchen area. He dips the cup in the bucket of water and brings it to me. “Here you go, Jennie-bean.” He’s smiling as if he’s proud of himself. “Drink up.”
I tilt my head up, and he holds the cup at my mouth. The cool water feels good against my raw throat, and yet it hurts to swallow. Still, I force myself to down the entire cup. I don’t know how long this situation is going to go on, and I don’t want to get dehydrated.
