Days pass. Time is determined by the rise and fall of the sun, but even that has no significance to me now. I don’t know where he’s taken me, and I don’t care. I’m numb. From top to bottom, inside out, there is nothing left but a broken shell. He’d taken my cell and sent a message to my mom. I don’t know what he told her, but he told me she wouldn’t come looking for me for a while, by which time we’d be hundreds of miles away, apparently.
The questions in my mind are still there, but nowhere near as loud as before. How is Spike? Is he even alive? Is Lottie coping?Does Denham think I’ve just left and abandoned him? Is Beth cursing my name for leaving the boutique without a word?
Too many questions. White noise in my head.
The door to the room creaks open, but I don’t turn. Instead, I focus on the view of the yard outside of the cushioned window seat where I sit with my knees tucked up into my chest. The same view I have looked out over for however long I’ve been here. I haven’t left this room. It’s minimal. There’s a bed, a leather high-backed chair, and a small table and two chairs. I don’t bother to eat, I can’t, and I sleep when my eyes won’t stay open a minute longer. I delay sleep as long as possible; reality is less painful than my dreams, because when you wake up, each time, you have to deal with the searing pain that the happiness you imagined isn’t, and will never again, be real.
“You need to eat,” Jonny says softly, placing the tray of food on the table.
I look toward him, but through him, then turn back to the idyllic view.
“You can’t keep this up forever, baby. Sooner or later, you’ll need to speak.”
Again, I ignore him. I haven’t said a word since the ‘Fuck you’ in the car the night I left. I have no desire to talk to him, no wish to interact. “Arianna!” he yells, slamming his open hand down on the tabletop. My whole body jumps and tenses. Instinct prepares me for a physical assault, but it doesn’t come. In fact, he hasn’t laid a finger on me the whole time I’ve been here. He’s been so different from the man I left behind nearly two years ago. I’ve been silently testing his patience, pushing his tolerance to see how far it will stretch. Determination makes me hang on to the very last piece of my strength. He’s surprised me by not rising to it; he hasn’t pushed or bullied me. He’s spoken to me kindly. Given me space, and he’s not touched me once.
“I didn’t want to have to do this. But you’ve left me no choice,” he snaps in a sharp, clipped voice, and the air around us tenses. Shit.
I brace myself ready for a fist to come at me, or for my hair to be yanked from my head, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he pulls out his cell, taps a few buttons, and tilts the screen in my direction. My stomach feels like it drops through the floor, and I feel my mouth fall open. It’s a picture of Denham at the hospital, sitting next to Spike’s lifeless body, still lying in the hospital bed, still hooked up to countless machines that are keeping him alive. I take in Denham’s handsome face, so tired. The handsome face that I’ve tried to shut out every second of every day that’s gone by. But he’s there when I close my eyes, and again when I open them.
He must hate me. I expect he detests me for what I’ve done to his family, and for breaking his heart. I left him when he needed me most. I just vanished from his life almost as fast as I crashed into it. Maybe I was never that important to him. Maybe he doesn’t really care, and never did…I’m not sure what thought hurts the most.
“His little empire is falling down around him,” Jonny sings, watching carefully for my reaction. I try to keep my expression neutral, it’s all a game, but I can’t pretend it’s not hurting me. How did he get that image?
“What have you done?” I whisper.
“Ah, she talks,” Jonny says, coming to sit beside me. “I thought you would have learned by now that I always get what I want. I thought you would use your brain and realize that you are no good to me as a broken shell. So, you see Arianna, for all your stubbornness over the last couple of days, you’ve done more harm than good. For every time you ignored me, every time you refused a meal, you hammered one more nail in his coffin. Your poor boy has been having a hard time of things.”
“But you’ve got me, you’ve got what you wanted,” I say on a broken, disbelieving whisper.
“No, Arianna.” He moves closer, so his breath is in my face. “I have a shell. Where’s the fun in that?”
I whimper, and turn my head from him, scrunching my eyes together to block him out.
I’ve done more harm than good…
“So, you see…The only one that can put a stop to all of this…” He pauses to let his words take effect, then whispers in my ear, “Is you.”
Something inside me breaks, and I snap my head around so fast I catch his cheekbone with mine. He pulls back, his eyes harden and turn black, but a knowing smile dances on his lips. He knows exactly how to play me. This is what he wants. He wants a fight.
“Fuck you,” I spit. “You’re a fucking sick bastard.”
I leap up from the seat, and everything I’ve ever wanted to say to him comes pouring out like water over a broken dam. Words that I’ve held back, that have choked me for years, hurl themselves toward him at velocity speed. “Don’t you dare put this on me. You…You can stop it. It’s all your doing. You’re sick in the fucking head. If you were an animal they would have put you down with a bullet to your twisted fucking brain. I’m not yours. You don’t own me. You never have, and you never will. You want my body? Fine, have it. I really don’t fucking care anymore. But, you won’t have my mind, and you’llneverhave my heart.” My throat stings with the words and the level of my voice, I’m screaming at him, and he’s stunned. “Because they are mine to give, and I choose not to. So do what you will.” I hold my arms out, welcoming him to do his worst. “If there is something you want from me, take it. You want me to give you my body? Have it. But you’ll never have my mind. You’ll never have me. So what now, you beat me? Maybe re-break a few of my ribs.”
“No,” he whispers, stepping towards me. “I’d rather taunt you with the pain of others.”
I drop my shoulders, exhausted from unburdening years of hurt and pain and the fresh weight of new ramifications, but also knowing there’s no way out. I can’t read the expression in Jonny’s eyes. But I don’t care. I’m done.
When he comes to stand in front of me, he tilts my chin up with his forefinger.
“My stupid, beautiful girl.”
***
The next couple of days pass easily.
If Jonny brought me food, I ate it.
If he spoke to me, I answered him. I did everything he asked of me.
