Page 105 of Resistant

“Good girl, Angel.”

A muffled cry erupts from me, and I dissolve into tears. He pats my head but I’m inconsolable. I grieve for the life I should have had with Wyatt, but he left me. I grieve for the life I could have had with Declan, but he left too.

The betrayals are boiling under my skin. Knox will never leave. I know this now. He takes me to the shower, cleans me and places me back in the bed like his little fuck doll. When he turns off the light and rolls over, I quiet my cries, but the tears continue to flow silently.

The days that follow are much the same, but I feel my mind shifting in ways that should be disturbing, but I’m too weak to fight him anymore.

I’m embracing the fuzziness in my mind, hiding in my own shadows. I find a strange thick peace wrapping me comfortingly in its cocoon.

Knox uses Declan’s pet names for me, whispering them softly to me, pulling me out from behind the wall I’ve erected, and he shatters it. I know that Declan and Knox are two different men, but in the days since his arrival, my mind has splintered, and I no longer remember whose pet names are whose.

I look at Knox and see Declan’s face superimposed over him. My mind won’t clear, and I feel sluggish and remote. I know on some deeper level that my mind shouldn’t be so foggy, but I can’t seem to stay concerned about the notion. The inside of my mind matches the outdoors with the smoke and the fog, and I find symmetry in the fact that my inner world matches my outer world.

Knox dotes on me during the day, hand feeding me my meals, brushing my hair, and reading aloud to me, and he fucks me mercilessly at night.

Eventually, I find myself longing to sit in his lap and find an escape in the dark of night between his sheets. He is more content than I have ever seen him, and the serenity on his face brings me happiness. When the evenings are long and the cold blankets the swamps and seeps into the cracks of the house, I curl up into him, humming, much like the cat. She follows me around the house looking for connection, and I find myself doing the same with Knox.

At times I’m aware of other people in my periphery, Mr. Anderson watches me closely when Knox isn’t around. And Mrs. Davis has a permanent expression of pity when she speaks to me.

I’ve given over my role of keeping house. I don’t care anymore, and she’s taken all my duties back over. Knox doesn’t seem to notice or doesn’t care.

I wake alone, the first moments I’ve had by myself in weeks. I put on a nightgown and walk quietly outside. The air is cool, and I move quickly through the wilderness breaking out into a sweat. I can hear Mr. Anderson behind me, but he doesn’t call out, or try to stop me.

My feet burn from running barefoot, but I keep moving. I don’t know where I’m going, or what I’ll do when I get there.

I slip down an embankment and grab a vine as I slide down on my back. I can feel sticks and branches scraping the backs of my thighs as I fall. Mr. Anderson’s footfalls grow loud as he approaches. He’s running to me and calling my name. I run as fast as I can.

There’s an old railroad bridge ahead and I sprint for it. I feel a toenail rip off and I cry out in agony, but I keep going. The slap of my wet bare feet claps on concrete.

When I get to the center I stop and turn. Mr. Anderson is at the bank, a hand held out to me. I see his mouth moving, he’s yelling but I don’t hear him. I step off the edge. I hear him screaming for me, and then there is nothing but the wind as I fall through the air. I’m waiting for fall to end in a splash, and it seems like I’ll never get there.

I look at the sky, I can see some trees, but not much more than the mist coming off the water. The sharp needles of the water splinter my skin when I hit, bruising and exhilarating me at the same time.

The cold rushes my body and I try not to take a breath and lie still, hoping to sink to the bottom. The water is murky, and the surface is hard to distinguish from the bottom. My lungs burn from the lack of air, and I keep pushing air out of my nose. I know I’m going to have to take a breath of water, but I’m afraid. I count to 5 in my head and decide it’s time. The water burns as it travels through my nose and in my lungs. I close my eyes tightly and let the darkness take me.

Puking, I’m puking up water and my whole-body hurts. Mr. Anderson is straddling my hips and I feel him tilt my head, so I don’t choke. He pushes my hair from my face.

“That’s it, Brynn, come back to me and take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

I feel his arms lift me and I cry. The sobs are torn from my chest, and I wish he’d left me in the water.

When we get back, Mrs. Davis hands me a cup of tea and I drink it down until I feel calm again. I hear Mr. Anderson telling Knox that I slipped and fell into the water. My interest is piqued, and I listen, but they move further into the house, and I don’t hear Knox respond. Mrs. Davis hands me more tea and I drink it all in one go.

Hands grasp me and I feel myself nodding off. As sleep cradles me in its embrace, I realize that only Mr. Anderson was out there.Where are all the other men he has stationed?An ounce of hope blooms in my chest before it’s extinguished by unconsciousness.

When I wake up, Knox is lying next to me.

“My lagniappe, you must be more careful. No more going outside alone, and you can’t go out barefoot and in your nightgown.”

I turn away from him and feel his fingertips on my jaw. He pulls me to his chest and hands me my tea. I feel pleasure wash over me.

“That’s it my angel, come back to me. Let’s get you some food and clean you up. We are going shop today.”

My contentment is soon disrupted when Knox brings a group of people to the house. They arrive with bags and racks of dresses, a hair stylist washes and cuts my hair. I’m being fitted for gowns, poked, prodded stuffed and any other number of tortures that women willingly subject themselves to all in the name of beauty. A flurry of activity surrounds me, and I sit and wait for Knox to come back and hum his approval.

Under my new gown, I’m wearing some pretty risqué lingerie the team gingerly pulled over my naked and bruised body. There are whispers and hushed conversations about a contract and a claiming, but mostly I ignore the team. I don’t know what it means anyway.

I watch as the team heads in and out of the house, packing all the new dresses and outfits, accessories and bags of makeup into a luxury car. Knox removes my clothing and takes my hair down. He dresses me warmly and feeds me breakfast with his fingers. Warmth settles in my belly. A now familiar dreamlike peace has pulled me under its spell.

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