“That was different,” I argued. “Number one, I knew Doc. Number two, I was a kid and didn’t know any better. Number three, I pay through the nose for insurance so I don’t have to buy black market antibiotics.”
“Well, we just saved you a co-pay and the cost of prescription meds.”
I didn’t reply, because he kind of had a point. Instead, I finally said out loud what had been playing on a loop in my head for hours.
“I’m scared for Rose,” I confessed, closing my eyes. “I know they’re doing everything they can to find her, and I’m sure she’s fine, but I’m terrified.”
“I know you are,” he replied, kissing my head.
“She doesn’t even like me,” I said quietly enough that I could pretend he might not hear me. “She wouldn’t give me a second thought if the roles were reversed.”
“You don’t know that,” he argued.
“Yeah, I do.”
Mark was quiet for a while as he let that sink in.
“Does she not remember what you did for her?” he finally asked, his entire body throbbing with tension.
“I’m sure she does,” I replied.
“Then what the fuck?” He scoffed. “Jesus, if it wasn’t for you, she’d be dead.”
“Don’t say that,” I said quickly. “Don’t.”
“You know it’s true.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, maybe you should,” he said angrily. “Because I’m tired of this shit.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” I argued.
“Jesus Christ, Cecilia,” he said with a long sigh. “Why the fuck don’t you stand up for yourself?”
“Because it doesn’t matter,” I replied. “They’re always going to think whatever they want about me. It hasn’t changed in fifteen years, and it’s not going to change now.”
He growled against my neck, but thankfully let it go. I didn’t want to talk about the way my family viewed me. I’d done that before, told him all of my secrets, all of my hurts, every bad thing they’d said when they thought I couldn’t hear them. He didn’t get that from me anymore.
As I slowly drifted off into a fretful sleep, I relaxed into his body. This was the only thing he got from me—the comfort of my body against his while we slept. We both knew he didn’t even deserve that much.
* * *
I had no idea if it was hours or just minutes later when I woke up to Mark’s hand over my mouth and his lips at my ear.
“They’re here,” he said softly. “Grab Olive and get up.”
I nodded, and as soon as he let me go, I was climbing off the bed with Olive in my arms. The bedroom door was still shut, and the only light illuminating the room came from inside the closet.
“How do you—”
“Silent alarm,” he said, cutting me off as he ushered me toward the closet. “See it in the corner?”
Up near the ceiling was a small, blinking white light. If I hadn’t known it was there, I would’ve never noticed it.
“White means they haven’t made it into the house yet,” he said, grabbing my bag off the floor. “We have time.”
“What are you doing?” I asked as he knelt inside the closet.
“Another reason we got this place,” he said as he ran his fingers along the carpet. After a few seconds, he found what he was looking for and pulled, opening a trap door in the floor.
“In,” he ordered.
I looked around the bare closet. “No,” I spat. “I’m not hiding in a fucking closet again.”
“Get in, Cecilia.”
“No, I—”
Mark looked beyond me and cursed. Following his gaze, I watched as the light that had been white only seconds before blinked red.
“Get the fuck in,” he ordered again. “Or I swear to God, I’ll knock your ass out and put you in.”
“What does red mean?” I asked as I stepped toward the opening.
“Get in.”
I scrambled to the opening and sat down, my feet hanging over the ledge. The floor beneath me was close, and I slid down until I was standing, half in and half out of the small space.
“What does red mean?” I asked again, my heart pounding.
“There’s a reason we put you in this room,” he said quickly, dropping my bag in the hole. “Sit down.”
I crouched down and curled my legs until I was seated, staring at his face.
“What does red mean?”
“Stay in here until I come for you,” he ordered. “Don’t fuckin’ move.”
“What does red mean?”
His eyes met mine. “They’re in the house.”
Then he swung the door closed and the darkness surrounding me was absolute.
Slowly, I inhaled through my nose, ignoring the way my skin crawled. It was just darkness, the absence of light. I’d been in the dark before. It wasn’t anything that I couldn’t handle.
They were in the house. They were in the house. They were in the house.
The words played over and over in my head as Olive stirred and I began to rock back and forth.
It was happening again. I was hiding again. Just like the first time. Just like the last time.
I flinched as a loud thump came from somewhere in the house.
It was happening again.
I began to hum as more thumping and thudding and crashing reached my ears.
It was happening again.
Something slammed downstairs, shaking the floor I was sitting on.
It was happening again.
Memories I’d tried to bury flashed through my mind. Rose’s wide eyes as she stood frozen. The weight of her as I dragged her away. The feeling of bullets hitting the tree against my back. The feel of her fingernails digging into my arms. The burn of a bullet passing so close to my shoulder that it cut a hole in my t-shirt and left a welt on my skin.
Gunshots.
I couldn’t figure out if they’d been part of my memory, or if I’d actually heard them.
It was happening again.
I rocked faster. Hummed louder. Olive began to squirm against my hold on her.
Footsteps overhead.
Then, like someone flipped a switch, there was nothing.
No fear, no memories, no fight.
Blissful, nothing.
Chapter 10
Mark
I memorized her face, the fear in her eyes and the tension in her jaw and the way her lips had flattened into a thin line as she braced herself. Then, I closed the trap door between us and took a few precious seconds to make sure that the seam in the carpet was invisible. After I knew she wouldn’t be found if the worst happened, I was on the move.
I didn’t have time to get dressed, but I threw on a black hoodie over my bare chest, hoping for at least a little concealment considering the way my pasty-as-fuck skin practically glowed in the dark. The light in the closet went out and I let out a breath, knowing that Wilson had cut the power. I hadn’t heard anyone else moving around, which I expected, and I had to assume that everyone knew what was happening.
I didn’t need sight to grab a pistol from my bag and quickly add a suppressor. There was no need to scare Cecilia even more with sounds of gunfire. Then, just in case, I pocketed my switchblade. I’d had the thing since I was a kid, and while it wasn’t something I’d had to use often, it worked in a pinch.