He’d just lost me.
Lost me worse than he ever did when he walked away without a goodbye.
You’ve lost me forever.
My heart restarted, drowning in horror.
Piece by piece.
Beat by beat.
I grew cold and empty.
Silence wrapped around us, stealing our voices, suffocating our thoughts. Quietness was easier to bear than his soul-shattering confessions, and I allowed it to hug me, trying to find comfort where there was none.
“I know you’ll never forgive me,” he murmured. “I know the only place I can go is hell. And I know I’ve destroyed any hope of a future where we could all be alive and happy. This is entirely my fault. I’m the reason Olive was taken, and I’m the reason those girls had to die. I’m the one who should forfeit his life...and who knows? Maybe that will be his next request, but while Olive is alive...I have no choice.” He stood on cracking knees, towering over me. “As long as she is alive...I have to try.” His misery left me stamped and branded as he turned and walked through his office to the apartment beyond.
The second he was out of viewing distance, I scrambled to undo myself. I bucked and writhed on the podium, twisting and turning, desperate to escape.
But each imprisonment stayed steadfast, and the only thing I succeeded in doing was burning through valuable energy. Energy I couldn’t afford to lose.
Whatever Gil was about to do to me, I had to be smart. Had to be brave. I wouldn’t give up.
I would’ve fought every dragon and beast by his side. I would’ve given him everything to keep his daughter safe...if only he’d asked. If only he hadn’t taken what wasn’t his to take.
A single tear rolled down my cheek, icy and alone.
I wouldn’t cry again.
He wasn’t worth my tears.
He isn’t worth my heart.
When he came back, his eyebrows tugged low, noticing my attempt at freedom. In his hands rested a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with a tall glass of water. The only two pieces of crockery he owned that weren’t chipped or plastic.
A heavy thread of strawberry followed him as he lowered to his haunches before me.
Such a simple, innocent scent.
A berry reserved for hot summers and delightful picnics. It had no place in this chilly warehouse with ropes binding me to a terrible fate.
“Open,” he murmured, holding the sandwich to my lips.
I shook my head, earning peanut butter crumbs on my chin. “What are you doing?” I kept my face turned away. “Stop it.”
“You’re hungry. It’s my turn to feed you.”
My eyes widened. I resisted the urge to morbidly laugh. “You’re about to kill me, but you want to feed me first?”
His entire face blanched. He wobbled on his haunches and swallowed hard as if struggling to keep his own stomach contents down. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Make you face what you’re about to do to me?” I swung my knees to nudge against his, my chin high and voice sharp. “You’ve tied me up against my will. You’re going to gift me to him. You’ll allow him to do whatever he wants. The least you can do is accept the gruesome details.” My anger plaited with fragility, wavering a little. “Will he kill me or you? How will it happen? Slit my wrists and bleed me out like the last girl? Paint me and leave me to die like the ones before her?”
He groaned as if I’d butchered him. With his jaw locked, he shoved the sandwich into my mouth, forcing me to chew or choke. “Just eat, O. I need you to eat.”
I fought to grab air not tainted with food, but he followed my head, keeping the awful sandwich pressed tight against my mouth.
We duelled for a while. I shifted my head left and right, up and down. He employed patience and followed. Crumbs and strawberry jam smeared my face. Embarrassingly, my stomach snarled to stop fighting.
To devour the offered energy because there must be a reason he wanted me to eat. Maybe he wouldn’t be the one to kill me. Maybe he wanted me to have energy to fight.
I stilled. My body relaxed. I opened my mouth politely and took a dainty bite.
Gil tensed, his eyes never unlocking from mine as I ate every inch. I swallowed it down, then waited for him to wipe my cheeks and chin free from the mess.
He did with a shaky hand, his forehead furrowed and eyes so dark they looked like crushed up jade. “I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that, but if you were sorry, you’d let me go.”
“Thank you for eating.” He placed the empty plate aside and picked up the glass. “Please drink.”
I held my head away, my gaze searching his. “Tell me why.”
He struggled to reply. The truth stayed shuttered behind his anguish, but finally, he looked at my lap and whispered, “You need to eat so you have something in your system. If you’re left out there for a while...the better hydrated and fed you are...the longer you’ll survive.”
“That wasn’t what I was asking.” I’d wanted to know why.
Why he’d chosen the easy way out. Yes, his daughter was captive, and he’d been dealing with this alone, but surely, having me help him rather than just sacrificing me was a better option?
When he didn’t answer, I sighed heavily. “You think a sandwich will keep me alive? That it will prevent me from becoming yet another dead girl in a newspaper?”
His eyes squeezed shut; a single tear rolled down his ashen face. Opening them again, he held the glass to my lips. “Please.”
My heart kicked at his brokenness, even now wishing to heal him.
I locked any emotion away and opened my mouth, allowing him to pour cool water down my throat.
I drank every drop.
I will survive this.
I will.
When the glass was empty, he lowered it slowly, studying the fracturing light as a droplet danced inside. That creative spark struck a match in his gaze, turning tortured into artist. He drowned in the colour spectrum, begging the flickering rainbow to fix everything.
I was envious of him. Envious that he could still practice his talent. Jealous he had a religion that could help him, even while discussing the murder of his childhood sweetheart.
His gaze met mine, and in the green depths, he showed me how endless he truly was. How long he’d fought this battle. How I was just collateral damage in a war I could never comprehend.
And I pitied him.
Pitied the struggle that had torn away his soul. Pitied the hardships he’d had to face on his own.
But I couldn’t forgive him.
I couldn’t absolve him for putting a price on my life and finding it less valuable than another’s. Even if it was his daughter. Even if she was...family.
“Justin knows I’m here.” I studied him with defiance. “He’ll visit soon, I’m sure.”
“He won’t.” Gil stood and carried the empty dishes to his side table where an airgun, brushes, vials, and everything else he needed for his work waited, prepped and mixed.
I sucked in a breath, my heart once again winging. “Why won’t he?”
“Because I told him not to.”
“He knows something is going on with you.”
Gil laughed, but nothing was jovial about it, merely black and miserable. “He should. I’ve been hiding this nightmare for a while.”