Feet. Converse. Combat trousers. I blink, trying to refocus, and watch Trina’s scuffed shoes storm out of the room. My breathing is erratic as the new feet move around the table towards me.
He grunts as he lifts both me and the chair back upright. Then Stuart Culliton sits onto the edge of the table, triaging at my head. I can feel myself bleeding before a crimson bead rolls down my cheek.
My body trembles. Shocked. Cold. Terrified.
He rubs his hands harshly across his face and those familiar brown eyes are full of despair when he stops.
‘Are you thirsty?’
I feel my brows furrow as I process the absurd question. Of all the things,that’swhat he says. I nod, trying to understand how this boy, who’s shown moments of true sweetness, has come to sit before me now, taking a role in my kidnapping, messed up with Katrina Martin.
He reaches for a bottle of water behind him on the table. ‘Put your head back.’
I lean back, uncertain, but I open my mouth. He holds my chin as he carefully drips water into my mouth and I look into those eyes again.
‘This is not you,’ I whisper, not knowing whether he should be helping me, or who is behind that mirror.
He squeezes his eyes shut and when they reopen, they’re black. ‘You don’t know me.’ He takes the water and leaves.
* * *
I don’t know how long I’m alone. I don’t know how long they’ve had me here. Rain continues to pour outside. The night is still dark. Wind blows in through the open window and whirls freezing-cold air around my body.
‘Gregory.’ His name carries as a whisper in the room, drowned by the wind. I know he can’t hear me. Tears mount behind my eyes. I close my lids to stop them from falling. They’re out there, watching me, and they won’t see me break. Gregory will be doing everything he can to find me. Jackson will have his team on this. I know it.
I won’t give him up. I won’t.
But as time passes and I don’t stop shivering uncontrollably, I wonder whether giving myself up is the only way to end this. Give Katrina Martin more than she bargained for. Give her the win she so desperately wants.
My teeth chatter and my head drops against my chest. My eyes close but I won’t sleep. My body wants to shut down but it can’t. They’re out there.
* * *
The door opens with the sound of metal grinding against concrete, making me raise my head from my chest. Stuart takes off his coat and wraps it around my shoulders, still warm. I could cry out with gratitude but my throat is dry. My entire body aches. Tears don’t come. The heat of the coat sifts into my ice-cold skin.
‘Would you undo my hands?’ I croak.
He stands on the opposite side of the table, considering me with, I think, pity, but he doesn’t move.
‘Please.’
He doesn’t glance back at the mirror, which tells me we’re here alone. He moves to my back and unfastens the cuffs. I whimper in pain as I move my arms from behind me, my shoulders burning through the change of position. I bite down on my lip, raising my numb arms until I’m able to rub my aching muscles.
‘Thank you.’
He moves the chair forward from the wall where Trina left it and takes a seat opposite me. There’s nowhere for me to go. I don’t have any strength to fight and he knows it. Even if I tried to run, he’d catch me. He rubs his face. He looks young. Helpless and lost.
‘Why?’
My question doesn’t induce a reply but there’s a subtle change in him. Recognition? Regret?
‘Why?’ I ask again, louder this time.
‘It’s not about you. It’s about him.’ Stuart’s head is down, his chin angled to the floor. He mumbles as he speaks.
‘What did he ever do to you?’
His Zimbabwean twang is thick. ‘Men like him. Men who have everything.Hehas everything.’
