Page 78 of No Saint

“Gabriel,” I start.

“Just think about it,” he interrupts, “I hurt you, let me make it better.”

I nod, thinking about what he had done for me, what he had been doing for me.

And so I go to my room with the bags and the lingerie, the image of that perfect dress in my head and I think.

Lincoln is returned to me just before dinner, a happy, cheerful little boy with bundles of new clothes, courtesy of his grandmother and red cheeks from his smiles. I hold him tight for a few moments before venturing downstairs.

It was surprising to find no guards posted outside my room, no men loitering in the halls pretending not to watch me, but I was grateful. For once I was clear in my thoughts, truly alone with them.

I place Lincoln on the floor in the den, the next room over from the kitchen with toys to play with and head through to the other room to prepare his dinner. It’s almost robotic as I move through the large space, plucking out ingredients and prepping them, lost in the thoughts spiraling out of control inside my head.

Gabriel was front and centre, as he always seemed to be. But he was proving to be an enigma. Just when I think I know, he changes it.

I was under no disillusions that the man was dangerous, he had killed, tortured, and hurt people. He does shady business and controls the city and everything in it, but he wasn’t the monster I believed him to be.

Shaking my head, I pinch the bridge of my nose, loosing a sigh.

After I place the vegetables onto boil and the chicken in the oven, I move back to the den to check on Lincoln.

Only he isn’t there.

“Lincoln?” I frantically search the den, trying to find him but when I don’t, I sprint into the kitchen, searching in there but he wasn’t there either.

My heart drops into my stomach the moment I step out into the hall and look towards the end, finding the door to the pool room open.

“Lincoln!” I scream. My legs are moving before I have time to process, feet heavy on the tiles as I rush to the room, heart stopping at the view of my little boy in the water. He thrashes but he’s submerged, hands barely breaching the surface.

“Lincoln!” I cry, not pausing to think about what I do next. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t swim, that I’d had a fear of pools longer than I could remember. None of that mattered as I jumped into the pool, the water rushing into my open mouth and over my head.

I thrash, kicking until my hands hit his body, and then I grip him, pushing up as much as I could. I didn’t know how to swim but I understood what to do and the panic of saving Lincoln overpowers the fear of the water. I manage to get him to the surface, my own face popping out as I inhale the air, sucking it into my lungs.

Lincoln coughs, crying out but that was good! He was breathing. Thankgodhe was breathing.

I kick wildly, holding him above the surface with one arm as I frantically try to push us to the edge of the pool. I couldn’t feel the bottom with my feet, and it seemed so far away but after pushing and fighting, I manage to get there.

My slippery fingers grab the lip of the pool, clinging on, “Help!” I scream, coughing, “Someone help!”

Lincoln thrashes, his fingernails clawing at me. I cry out as I use what I can to push him up, up, up until I shove him over the top and onto solid ground where he promptly lets out a scream.

I sigh, he was safe.

I take a moment to catch my breath, keeping a tight grip on the edge until I have enough energy. Just a minute, I just needed a minute. I hear footsteps thundering towards the pool room and relief floods through me. I turn to see who but before I can, something heavy and hard slams into the side of my head.

I let go of the edge as my head swims with fog and I can’t even panic as I slip back beneath the surface of the water.

Internally, I am screaming, crying, lashing out but I know my body isn’t moving, it’s simply sinking as the blackness consumes my head. I glance up to the surface, seeing a dark, blurry shape looking down but then it all goes black, and I sink to the bottom of the pool.

31

The scream chills me through.

I’ve heard screams of pain, or fear but this, this was different. It hit me in the soul and buried itself beneath my bones, chilling me all over.

A child’s scream.

Behind that scream I hear a voice, a voice screaming for help.

---