Page 80 of Beyond the Horizon

“Here, sip this.”

A straw is placed gently between my lips. Cool liquid washes flows into my mouth as I suck greedily. I’m so thirsty. Eventually, I find enough energy to open my eyes. Malakai is leaning over me, concern etched across every inch of his handsome face. He places the bottle of water on a table beside him and brushes a few strands of hair away from my face.

“Wh-where am I?”

“My boat. We’re moored up. You’re back home now.”

Despite the gentleness of his tone, each word grinds the cogs in my head painfully as I try to grasp what’s happened and why I’m on his boat.

“Back home?”

“Yes, Ma Silva and Lola will be here any minute now.”

“Wh-hat happened?” The last memory I have is dancing in Volts nightclub in Canterbury. I was having fun… wasn’t I? A lingering, nagging feeling starts to flit about in my memories that are still foggy and unclear. I can’t grasp it long enough to make any sense of it though.

“How did I get here? Why do I feel like this?” My body feels as though it’s still deep asleep, everything is heavy and foreign.

“You…” Malakai begins, then frowns. He strokes my hair almost absentmindedly, trying to find the words to tell me what’s gone on. It must be pretty serious given his struggle. Malakai has never faltered over his words before now. That usually isn’t his problem, he’s always straight and to the point.

“Do you remember anything?” he asks, searching my face.

“I’m not sure.” The truth is, there are snippets of images. Some are clearer than others. Shaking my head, I press my eyes shut, forcing myself to concentrate. Those images flash in my mind. I remember Peter and my friends, Jack, Alice and Georgia. We were dancing in the club, laughing, talking. I was… drunk. Happy, but drunk.

“We were in a club…” I mutter, still trying to gather my thoughts.

“That’s right. Do you remember anything else?” The way he asks me that question gives me the feeling that he hopes I don’t. But why would he not want me to remember…? My body shivers and my stomach clenches as though it knows the truth even if my mind isn’t clear. I have the sudden overwhelming urge to throw up. Is this the alcohol? No. No, it’s more than that.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say.

Malakai reaches for a bucket that I hadn’t noticed was sitting on the floor by his feet. I heave and my stomach empties. After I’m done, Malakai clears away the mess, returning with a damp washcloth.

“Here,” he says, handing it to me.

“Thank you,” I mutter, wiping my mouth and taking the proffered water he passes to me next. After cleansing my mouth, I manage to push myself upright. Pins and needles prick my skin all over, the feeling is unpleasant and unwelcome. “My legs feel so heavy, Malakai. Why is that?”

He doesn’t answer right away, instead he takes my hand and brings it up to his lips, brushing his lips over my knuckles, a gentle act in itself. “Drugs…” he says eventually.

“No!What? I don’t do drugs, Malakai. I didn’t take any drugs…”

He squeezes my hand tighter. “No, Connie, you were drugged byhim.” He spits the last word out, hatred flashing across his face like storm clouds rolling over a thunderous sky.

“Wh-hat do you…?”

But more images begin to tumble, cutting off my response as memories begin to appear. They take shape, like spectres in a deserted graveyard. We left the nightclub. We didn’t catch a cab like Jack, Alice and Georgia did. Peter said the fresh air would do me good. My legs were so heavy… Why were they so heavy?

You were drugged…

“NO!”

“I’m sorry he wasn’t who you thought he was.”

Words are caught up with the memories. Words Peter had said to me…

“Shut the fuck up, Connie. It’s time to put out.”

“That’s it, Connie. Fucking beg.”

“I’m only stopping once I’ve fucked every hole.”

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