“What’s a while?”
He kept his back to me, unlocking the wheels on the trolley and rolling the supply table toward me. “Over a year.”
“A year?” I squirmed on the stage, my wrists and ankles sore from the tightness of his binds. “Why didn’t you go to the police? Tell them—”
“Tell them that I’m a madman’s puppet? That I’ve tried to keep so many women from death and only succeeded if my bank account was flush?”
I stiffened. “You could have. They might have believed you.”
His eyes cast back to the past, to a time I wasn’t there. “They wouldn’t. It’s always my word against someone else’s.”
That statement rippled with such stark truth, I wished I could dissect it and pull free every fact, but I kept my questioning focused, determined to solve this riddle. “How many women did your money save?” I tested the ropes again, a futile attempt, but instinct demanded I keep checking.
“Not enough.” He shuddered visibly, his face turning grey as a corpse. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t.” My voice hissed like a python. “Don’t ever say that to me again. Don’t you think I deserve to know?” I held up my bound wrists. “You’ve turned me into a sacrifice, Gilbert Clark. The least you can do is—”
“You’re right.” His back stiffened as he pulled open a drawer and selected a pair of sharp scissors. “Ask me anything. I’ll answer as honestly as I can.” Coming toward me, he eyed my skirt and blouse. “I’m sorry to ruin yet another outfit of yours.”
I scuttled backward, doing my best to avoid the silver flashes of his weapon. I asked again, “Ho-How many did you manage to save?”
His eyes met mine. This time he didn’t deflect. “Seven. Seven girls before my finances ran dry.”
“And he kept asking for more?”
He nodded as another well of rage and helplessness glossed his gaze. “I sold what I could. I worked every job possible. I gave him every penny. But it still wasn’t enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“To keep her safe.”
“To keep Olive safe,” I whispered his daughter’s name.
“Yes.” His fingers grabbed my ankle, pulling me back to the edge of the podium. With trembling hands, he cut my skirt along my thigh, right to the pretty faux croc-skin belt. With a snip, he cut that too, switching my skirt to a ruined piece of material now draped uselessly on his stage.
My garter belt decorated my black lace knickers; my stockings unable to shield me from the cold air.
He sniffed as if he couldn’t hold back his emotion. Couldn’t believe he did this to me. “Fuck, I’m so, so sorry.”
“Then stop.” I did my best to stay strong.
“I can’t.”
I flinched as he slowly cut my blouse, peeling it away from my skin. It fluttered lifelessly to join my skirt, revealing my bra.
“I need you to know.” Gil cupped my chin with snowy fingertips. “I need you to understand.” Tears strangled his voice. “Without Olive, I don’t know what I would’ve become. Sh-She saved my life.” His thumb stroked my cheekbone. “After I lost you, I barely survived. I was on a slippery slope of grief and heartache, but thanks to Olive...I had someone who needed me. I had someone to fight for—”
“I needed you!” My pain bled through my control as a sob caught in my throat. “I missed you so much. Why did you leave if you still wanted me? Why didn’t you fight for me, Gil? Why don’t you fight now?”
His tears flowed freely, glittering on his ghostly cheeks, tracking through his five o’clock shadow. “I had to stay away. Otherwise, she was going to destroy your life.”
I struggled to breathe. “Who? Who was going to destroy my life?”
“It doesn’t—”
“Gil!”
“Fine. It was Tallup.” His teeth snapped the word in half, thick with disgust and heavy with loathing. “She blackmailed me.” He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing hard. “I was stupid and gullible and way out of my depth. I should’ve told you. Should’ve told the authorities, but I was too afraid.” He let out an agony-drenched laugh. “I was too afraid of losing you. Of being locked up. Of my life becoming a total screw-up. I thought I could protect you and fix what I’d broken. But I failed, and I lost it all anyway.”
My mind scrambled to untangle the pieces. “Ms Tallup? Jane Tallup? Our teacher?” I frowned. “Why would she want to hurt me?”
“Because of me.”
“What? Why?”
“She went after you to get to me.” His gaze shot black with hatred and unresolved torment.
“I don’t understand.”
“It doesn’t ma—”
“Gil.” I ripped my face from his touch. “I swear I’ll—”
His lips crashed on mine as if he couldn’t stop himself. As if the whole deranged evening was just a role-play and I’d had every choice to participate. His tongue licked at the seam of my mouth. His groan vibrated in his chest with black-edged sorrow.
I didn’t kiss him back.
In that, I had a choice.
He pulled away, resting his forehead on mine as he breathed hard. “Fuck.” He trembled as if he had hypothermia and only had seconds to live. He kissed me again, quick and hard, his breath catching. “Fuck.”
Falling away from me, he punched the stage.
He punched it so hard, the vibration ricocheted beneath me and made him groan with agony. He punched it again, punishing his knuckles, ruining his painting hand all because he couldn’t stand the prison we were locked in.
Part of me wanted to soothe him. To tell him it was okay. That I understood his pain.
But I didn’t understand.
This was my life he was using to pay a debt.
This wasn’t his choice to make.
“What did Tallup do to you, Gil?” My question was achingly soft after such violence.
His shoulders hunched, grief crippling him. His eyes were wet as they met mine. “She wanted me.” He shrugged helplessly. “So...she took me.”
“What does that—”
No.
I wanted to be sick.
A rush of heat and nausea raced up my throat.
My cheeks burned. My body throbbed with injustice. “You slept with her?”
He swiped at the liquid on his face and looked away.
He didn’t answer as he reached for my bra and snipped it with the scissors. Cutting the straps, he let it fall to the graveyard of my clothing before slicing up my stockings and leaving me in just my knickers. A single piece of protection against so many things I didn’t know.
“You slept with her.” Tears I didn’t want to cry spilled over my cheeks. “Why would you do that? Why didn’t you say something? I was waiting for you. I was saving myself for you. I was a virgin, Gil. I wanted you to have that. No one else. You were supposed to be my first...and my only.”
His voice was dangerously low. “You think I didn’t want that too?”
“I don’t know what to think.” My heart bruised with agony. “Did she proposition you? Why didn’t you tell the principal? He would’ve fired her immediately for even looking at you wrong.”