Crack.
A sharp, splitting pain explodes in the back of my skull. A blinding white flash fills my vision and my knees buckle. I crumple under the net, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
The last thing I hear before the black swallows me whole is the whisper of my own breath. Croía’s name tangled on my tongue. A prayer or a curse… then nothing.
His unexpected knock startled me. My heart slammed so hard I swear it echoed in my ribs. I didn’t crumble though, I stayed rooted behind the door, breathing steadily, reminding myself that fear doesn’t get to run my house anymore. He thought he could watch me as if I’m nothing but a pretty thing to be consumed. I am not a window to be looked through.Ní rún mé le goid sa dorchadas.(I am not a secret to be stolen in the dark.)
Seeing the mess, he left on my glass this morning made something small in me want to shrink away. I refused to let it. I stood in front of that stain, and told myself, no more. I let that disgust feed my resolve instead of my shame and turned it into fuel for my plan. Every knot tied with steady hands; every piece of furniture moved until the room became my stage.
With him being so predictable, I laughed so hard when I heard him break in, he was so sure that I’d stay quiet and helpless.Tonight, I wasn’t. I was prepared. When that net dropped and the bat cracked against his skull, I felt something inside me roar awake, a fierce, glowing thing that’s been waiting so long to be unleashed.
I’m proud of myself, for not running, for not shrinking. I turned the fear he gave me into chains for him instead. He wanted to own me.Anois is liomsa é.(Now I own him.)
Dismantling my trap, I feel a fierce flicker of pride bloom in my chest as I lower the ropes from the ceiling and gather the net into a tight ball. I catch myself grinning. Hours to build, seconds to ruin, typical. It did what it needed to do. I’m just grateful it worked. I glance at Mr. Piercing eyes, crumpled on the ground, mine to handle now. A shiver of triumph runs through the weakness still clinging to my bones.
Even with the adrenaline crackling through my veins, dragging his dead weight into my bedroom takes every scrap of strength I have left. Halfway down the hall my legs nearly buckle. My lungs burn and my joints scream. I stop, plant my feet and breathe. One breath in. One breath out. I remind myself… I did this, keep going.Rug mé air.(I caught him.)
With every muscle trembling, I leave him in a heap on the floor by my bed and force myself back down the hallway. In the living room, I scoop up the cable ties with hands that feel too clumsy, too slick with sweat. By the time I stumble back to the bedroom, I’m practically dripping, my hair is stuck to my face and my breath ragged in my chest.
For a stupid moment I just stand still, panting, clutching plastic ties in both fists as if I’m about to make some grand speech. I stare at him sprawled there like a warning. My pulse hammering so hard I feel it behind my eyes.
What the hell am I doing? It completely slipped my mind. I could laugh, or scream. Maybe both. Of course I didn’t think this through. I didn’t plan where I’d keep him. How am I going to make sure he doesn’t squirm his way free the moment I blink? I shake my head, forcing my feet to move. I can figure it out.I will figure it out.One step at a time, that’s how this goes. He’s the one who should be afraid now, not me.
Securing the cable tie around the wooden bed leg, I pull it tight around his wrist, the plastic biting into his skin. My hands are trembling, so I force them steady.I have to be steady.Gripping his shoulders, I shove him roughly onto his side. He lets out a groggy grunt but doesn’t wake.Good.
With one wrist down, I drag his other arm across his chest and thread the second tie through the first, yanking until I hear the satisfying click of it locking. For good measure, I double-loop another tie through both restraints, pulling so tight I swear I feel the bed frame creak.
Níl sé ag dul áit ar bith.(He’s not going anywhere.)
Waiting to see if he’ll stir, I sit back on my heels, my breath rattling in my chest. I watch him for a second, to see if he’ll snap awake and tear free as though some nightmare coming to life. He doesn’t.
My legs feel as though they’re made of wet paper as I push myself up to stand. The room feels smaller than it did a moment ago, as if the walls are pressing in around me. The air is thick and heavy with the smell of sweat and nerves. I start pacing, barefoot steps muffled on the floorboards. My pulse pounds at my temples so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts.
Cad a rinne mé?(What the fuck did I do?)
Nervousness floods me as I glance at him again, watching the way his fingers twitch every now and then. Have I actually restrained a man against his will? My stomach flips, bile rising in my throat. What am I doing?
A dark voice in the back of my mind whispers that this is too far, that I should untie him. I brace a hand against the wall, steadying my breath. However, another voice, a louder voice, reminds me that he crossed a line first. That he watched me. That he came for me, as if I were his for the taking.
With my throat feeling like sandpaper, I swallow hard, forcing the tremor from my jaw, and keep pacing. This is my line now and he’s not crossing it again.
Exiting the room before my courage unravels completely, I force myself out through the door and into the bathroom. My feet drag as though I’m wading through tar. Each step echoes with what I’ve done.
Twisting the cold tap until icy water bursts out, I lean over the sink, cupping my hands beneath it. I splash my face repeatedly, hoping the shock will drown out the pounding in my head.Droplets of water run down my neck, soaking the collar of my t-shirt, but I barely feel it. I can’t feel anything except the acid panic curling low in my gut.
When I finally look up, the stranger in the mirror glares back at me.Pale and wild-eyed. My jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache. Who is she? This version of me with rope burns on her hands and fear woven through her bones. I don’t know her. I don’t want to know her. My reflection mocks me. The little tremor in my lip has water dripping off my chin like blood.
What have you become? I hear the whisper as clear as if I’d spoken it aloud. I’ve practically kidnapped the man, trapped him as if he’s prey. For what? Some fever-dream idea that I could control any of this. That I could scare him away when he’s the one who already crawls under my skin?
Silently I argue with myself, closing my eyes momentarily. Every part of me wants to run in there and cut him loose.
And I’ve made my choice before my feet even move. I’m letting him go.
My steps are slow and deliberate. The argument is still playing out inside my head with every inch I close between us. Let him go. Keep him here. The war drums in my ears, louder than my breathing. Why is this so fucking hard?
A rush of guilt knots in my chest, twisting tight, as I drop to my knees beside him, my bones hitting the floor harder than I mean to. He looks so still, so breakable like this. The thought that I might have killed him flashes in my mind. So, I hover my palmover his nose and relief floods me when his warm breath hits my skin. He’s alive. Thank fuck.
Carefully, I reach over him, my fingers brushing the plastic cable ties. I need to cut them. Fuck. Of course I do. I didn’t think of that.Scissors, Croía, you need scissors.
