Page 28 of Dead Love
I went to the stairs, carefully going up the twisting staircase, my gut rolling with each creak, not knowing if Vincent could hear me. Up on the loft, a black door was shut, with a long couch against the wall. I tried the handle, but it didn’t budge.
I squeezed my fists together. I pictured my open bedroom window, knowing that I could have snuck out so many times before, but I never had, no matter how many times I realized I was living in a cage—my mother and father’s house, cage, where I would live, breathe, and die being the perfect daughter. Instead, I had left the windows open, because I knew someone was watching over me. Because I wanted that guardian to come in.
And he had.
This was insane. My father had been on duty, but my mother? She could have been dead.
A drop of liquid landed on my foot. A red dash on my toe. I looked up, trying to figure out where it had come from, but then I realized the liquid was smeared on my arm and nightgown. A small cut was in my arm. I pressed my finger to it; a firm piece of metal was under my skin, like a tiny data chip.
My eyes widened. What the hell was it?
I had to think. Had to figure out a way out. Couldn’t let my fear take over my mind. Prying my fingers under the material, I pulled the thin sheet of carpet from the ground, revealing the wood underneath. I threw the couch cushions to the side, looking for anything—a key, a toothpick, a hair pin—but it was cleaner than our disinfected floral buckets.
I went down the stairs, holding my breath as the metal screeched with my weight, then searched the bottom floor. Underneath the loft, there was a toilet, a sink, and a narrow shower stall surrounded by glass walls. A large painting hung on the back wall of a smoky form, almost like a human body, scowled down at me, making me small.
What was I doing here? Why was I so unprepared?
Everything that my parents did was because they wanted the best for me. And yet, Vincent’s words seemed terribly true right now:I saved you from your cage.It was only this year that my mother had finally started letting me come on errands outside of the flower shop. And this situation, being in Vincent’s den, was the farthest I’d ever been away from home. The only time I had ever been without her. In a way, I was free. Maybe if I had been allowed to meet people, to go anywhere, to interact with someone other than the women that came into the shop—maybe I would have a better idea of what to do.
Was I stupid for hitting Vincent, if that’s exactly what he wanted?
Surrounded by brick, the light was sucked from the room. Something in my heart told me that my mother was okay, and I held onto that instinct because it was all I had. But my mother had depended on me for her serenity for so long; what would she do without me?
What would I do now?
The walls stretched up, as if I had been swallowed into the earth. I grit my teeth, tapped my fingers on my sides, pushing everything down. I had to think clearly. I had to find a way out.
CHAPTER10
Vincent
In the morning,a knock rang through the house. No one came here, and never this early. I closed the door to my studio, locking it behind me. I peeked through the peephole: Sheriff Mike stood proudly. I opened the door.
“Erickson,” he boomed. He blinked at me. “What happened? That’s quite the shiner.”
A deep red bruise, turning a shade of purple, was in the corner of my eye.
“Was rough-housing with my dogs,” I said. “Fell on a rake.”
He laughed, hitting his chest, then glanced around. “Where are those pups now?
“Morning hunt.” I gestured to the backyard where the house rested against Mount Punica. “There’s a squirrel out there, they just know it.”
“I miss having a dog.” He shook his head. “Shea is allergic, of course. Swears Kora is too.”
I’m sure Kora had never been exposed to a dog. I gave a patient smile. I didn’t care about their weird family life, only watching them fall apart.
“So, what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked.
Mike let out a small breath. “You mind if I come in?”
I stepped to the side, and we went through the brick archway to the small table in the breakfast nook. The natural fauna from the mountain filled the window. In the distance, the heavy red petals of pomegranate blossoms flashed through the trees.
“Our house burned down last night,” he said.
“Holy shit,” I said, leaving my mouth open for effect. I sucked in a breath. “You’re okay?”
“I was on duty, but my wife—” He stopped, then leaned on the table. “She’s being treated for smoke inhalation.”
